MAP OF A MINE
Annoyed by the attempted bribe, Jack returned the emerald to the mining
engineer.
“No, thanks,” he said. “Sorry, you can’t buy me. Seems you’re mighty
eager to get us away from here.”
“No such thing.” Rhodes replaced the gem in a pouch which Jack noticed
contained even larger emeralds. “Visitors interfere with the work. I was
willing to make it worth your while to leave—that’s all.”
“I doubt Mr. Livingston will pull out while his friend is held captive
by bandits. Odd isn’t it, that there’s been no ransom demand in so many
days?”
“Nothing odd about it,” Rhodes retorted. “Corning’s probably dead.
Carlos is without heart, cruel and vicious.”
“Why not organize a party and track him down?”
“He’d elude us. No, the only thing to do is to be patient and see what
develops.”
Jack made no reply, although Rhodes’ views displeased him. He had tried
to hide his anger at being offered a bribe. Nevertheless, he was more
than ever convinced that Rhodes wanted to get the Scouts away from the
mine to prevent them from learning important facts about Corning’s
kidnapping.
Thinking it over, he decided to make his own investigation by talking to
some of the miners. No opportunity presented itself, however. Whenever
he approached a workman, Rhodes quickly arrived upon the scene.
Biding his time, Jack waited until nightfall. Then, slipping away from
the Scout tent, he stole to the thatched roof shack of Phillipe, the man
Rhodes had struck.
A soft tap on the door brought the miner to the door. Suspiciously, he
gazed at Jack.
“_Amigo_—friend,” Jack assured him. In halting Spanish he asked to be
admitted.
The man allowed him to enter the barren hovel. Laboriously, Jack tried
to make him understand that he sought information about Mr. Corning.
“Bandits come, _Senor_,” the miner informed him with gestures. “They
ride off with _Senor_ Corning.”
“And the emeralds?”
“No, _Senor_. Carlos get nothing. _Senor_ Corning refuse to open safe.”
“That’s funny,” Jack remarked, half to himself. “Rhodes told us Carlos
cleaned out the safe. He must have lied.”
“_Senor_ Rhodes lie about many things,” Phillipe muttered. “Old mine—”
The words froze on his lips. Unnoticed, Rhodes had approached and now
stood, feet astride, in the open doorway.
Coldly, he addressed Jack. “I figured I’d find you here. Trying to stir
trouble among my workers?”
“No such thing,” Jack denied.
“Go to your quarters and remain there for the night! Must I remind you,
this is an emerald mining camp and that regulations must be rigid.”
Jack held his tongue, knowing that opposition most certainly would
result in a beating for Phillipe. He left with the engineer, separating
from him at the cottage. Going on to the Scout camp, he was surprised to
find his friends in earnest conversation.
“Say, Jack,” War greeted him. “Did you take that gun—the one we snatched
from Carlos?”
“Haven’t touched it,” Jack rejoined. “You’ll find it under my sleeping
bag.”
“Someone’s swiped it,” War informed him. “Rhodes probably! We saw him
poking his nose into the tent before supper. I’ll bet he took it to make
sure we don’t start anything!”
“Let’s demand it back!” Willie urged.
“No use,” Mr. Livingston advised. “He’d only deny he took it. Besides,
maybe we’re better off without that weapon. Loaded guns do cause
accidents.”
Dismissing the matter of the lost revolver, Jack told the group of his
talk with Phillipe.
“Corning was kidnapped, all right,” he declared. “But why did Rhodes lie
about the emeralds? Apparently, Carlos didn’t steal them, because
Corning wouldn’t open the safe.”
“That needn’t have stopped him,” Mr. Livingston pointed out. “He could
have blown it quite easily.”
“Seemingly, emeralds weren’t Carlos’ main objective. He must have
swooped down here with the deliberate intention of taking Corning
captive. For ransom?”
“He’s made no demand as yet,” Mr. Livingston commented. “Furthermore,
those emeralds in the safe would be worth far more than he could expect
to get in a cash demand.”
“The whole deal looks phony,” Jack said. “Rhodes knows more than he’s
telling, and he’s afraid I’ll find out something by talking to the
miners. That’s why he watches me so closely.”
“I’d like to look over Corning’s papers,” Mr. Livingston said
thoughtfully. “If ever he searched for an old mine, I’m sure he would
have left a record of his work.”
“We could ask Rhodes to let us look over his things.”
“I did, this afternoon, Jack. He denied me access to the office file.”
“Why not look without his permission?”
“I don’t like to do that, Jack.”
“We’re dealing with a guy who has no scruples,” Jack pointed out.
“Anyway, let’s breeze him again. Maybe if we bear down hard, he’ll let
us go through Corning’s papers.”
“We can try,” Mr. Livingston agreed.
Leaving the other Scouts behind, the pair walked to the office. The
building was lighted with two gasoline lamps, but upon entering, they
found no one there.
“Rhodes is at the house, I guess,” the Scout leader said.
“Then this may be our chance,” Jack suggested. His gaze fastened upon
the filing cabinet. “Why not?”
“It’s probably locked.”
“Probably,” Jack agreed. He tried the wooden drawer, and to his
surprise, it pulled open.
Stuffed into the back of the file were samples of rock and a bottle of
chemical. Manila folders were stacked in the front, each neatly labeled.
However, nearly all were empty of papers.
“Rhodes must have cleaned out about everything,” Jack commented.
“Nothing here apparently, except routine letters.”
He pulled out a second drawer, entirely empty except for a long roll of
heavy paper, tied with cord. Impelled by curiosity, he untied the knot
and spread out the sheet.
“Why, it’s a map!” he exclaimed. “A map of an emerald mine!”
“This one?” Mr. Livingston demanded. Getting up, he went to the desk to
peer over Jack’s shoulder.
The map was roughly drawn, but to scale. Even a casual glance convinced
the two that it was not a representation of the Last Chance mining
operation.
“It seems to be located across the stream,” Jack said, his interest
growing. “In the densely forested area. You don’t suppose—”
“That it might be a drawing of the old lost Spanish mine?” supplied Mr.
Livingston. “It could be, Jack!”
“The mine seems to be situated south of here,” Jack went on, studying
the markings intently. “Some of these lines have been erased and
re-drawn.”
“The map can’t have too much value, or it wouldn’t have been left out of
the safe,” Mr. Livingston replied. “The legend appears to be in
Corning’s handwriting, but I’m sure some of the writing isn’t his.”
As the two poured over the drawings, they were startled to hear
approaching footsteps. Quickly, Jack thrust the map back into the filing
cabinet drawer.
Scarcely had he closed it than the door was flung open. But it was not
McClellan Rhodes who stood there, but Willie.
“Come quick!” he urged the pair.
“What’s doing?” Mr. Livingston asked alertly. “Anyone hurt?”
Willie shook his head. “War and I were taking a little walk down the
trail before turning in for the night. We saw something mighty queer! We
want you both to see it too! Come right away or it may be too late!”