A WEARY SEARCH
"Are you sure it's them?" asked Ned.
"Bless my toothpick!" cried Mr. Damon. "It isn't possible, Tom?"
"Yes, it is," said the young inventor. "It's the Fogers all right.
Take a look for yourself, Ned."
The other lad did, and confirmed his chum's news, and then Mr. Damon
also made sure, by using the glass.
"No doubt of it," the odd man said. "But what are you going to do,
Tom?"
Our hero thought for a moment. Then, once more, he looked
steadfastly through the glass at the other carts. The occupants of
them did not appear to know that they were under observation, and at
that distance they could not have made out our friends without a
telescope. Tom ascertained that the Fogers were not using one.
"Has Senor Swift any orders?" asked Delazes. "Who are these Fogers?
Enemies of yours I take it. Why should they follow you merely to
find a ruined city, that the ruins and relics may be studied?"
"Here are the orders," spoke Tom, a bit sharply, not answering the
question. "We'll camp and have supper, and then we'll go on and make
all the distance we can after dark."
"What, travel at night?" cried the Mexican, as if in horror at the
suggestion.
"Yes; why not?" asked Tom calmly. "They can't see us after dark, and
if we can strike off on another trail we may throw them off our
track. Surely we'll travel after supper."
"But it will be night--dark--we never work after dark," protested
Delazes.
"You're going to this time," declared Tom grimly.
"But the oxen--they are not used to it."
"Nothing like getting used to a thing," went on the young inventor.
"They won't mind after a rest and a good feed. Besides, there is a
moon to-night, and it will be plenty light enough. Tell the men,
Senor Delazes."
"But they will protest. It is unheard of, and--"
"Send them to me," said Tom quickly. "There'll be double pay for
night work. Send them to me."
"Ah, that is good. Senor Swift. Double pay! I think the men will not
object," and with a greedy look in his black eyes the Mexican
contractor hastened to tell his men of the change of plans.
Tom took another look at the approaching Fogers. Their carts were
slowly crawling up the trail, and as Tom could plainly see them, he
made no doubt but that his caravan was also observed by Andy and his
father.
"I guess that's the best plan to throw them off," agreed Ned, when
they were once more underway. "But how are you going to explain to
Delazes, Tom, the reason the Fogers are following us? He'll get
suspicious, I'm afraid."
"Let him. I'm not going to explain. He can think what he likes, I
can't stop him. More than likely though, that he'll put it down to
some crazy whim of us 'Americanos.' I hope he does. We can talk
loudly, when he's around, about how we want to get historical
relics, and the Fogers are after the same thing. There have been
several expeditions down this way from rival colleges or museums
after Aztec relics, and he may think we're one of them. For the
golden images are historical relics all right," added Tom in a lower
voice.
The Mexicans made no objections to continuing on after supper, once
they learned of the double pay, and a little later they went into
camp. A turn of the trail hid the Fogers from sight, but Tom and his
friends had no doubt but what they were still following.
It was rather novel, traveling along by the light of the brilliant
moon, and the boys and Mr. Damon thoroughly enjoyed it. Orders had
been given to proceed as quietly as possible, for they did not want
the Fogers to learn of the night trip.
"They may see us," Tom had said when they were ready to start, "but
we've got to take a chance on that. If the trail divides, however,
we can lose them."
"It does separate, a little farther on," Delazes had said.
"Good!" cried Tom, "then we'll fool our rival relic hunters and our
museum will get the benefit." He said this quite loudly.
"Ah, then you want the relics for a museum?" asked the Mexican
contractor quickly.
"Yes, if they pay enough," replied Tom, and he meant it, for he had
no doubt that many museums would be glad to get specimens of the
golden images.
Just as they were about to start off Tom had swept the moonlit trail
with his night-glass, but there was no sign of the Fogers, though
they may have seen their rivals start off.
"Let her go!" ordered Tom, and they were once more underway.
It was about five miles to where the trail divided, and it was
midnight when they got there, for the going was not easy.
"Now, which way," asked Delazes, as the caravan came to a halt. "To
the left or right?"
"Let me see," mused Tom, trying to remember the map the African
missionary had sent him. "Do these roads come together farther on?"
"No, but there is a cross trail about twenty miles ahead by which
one can get from either of these trails to the other."
"Good!" cried the young inventor. "Then we'll go to the right, and
we can make our way back. But wait a minute. Send a couple of carts
on the left trail for about two miles. We'll wait here until they
come back."
"The senor is pleased to joke," remarked the Mexican quickly.
"I never was more earnest in all my life," replied Tom.
"What's the answer?" asked Ned.
"I want to fool the Fogers. If they see cart tracks on both roads
they won't know which one we took. They may hit on the right one
first shot, and again, they may go to the left until they come to
the place where our two carts turn back. In that case we'll gain a
little time."
"Good!" cried Ned. "I might have known you had a good reason, Tom."
"Send on two carts," ordered the young inventor, and now Delazes
understood the reason for the strategy. He chuckled as he ordered
two of the drivers to start off, and come back after covering a
couple of miles.
It was rather dreary waiting there at the fork of the trail, and to
beguile the time Tom ordered fires lighted and chocolate made. The
men appreciated this, and were ready to start off again when their
companions returned.
"There," announced Tom, when they were on the way once more, "I
think we've given them something to think over at any rate. Now for
a few more miles, and then we'll rest until morning."
All were glad enough when Tom decided to go into camp, and they
slept later than usual the next morning. The trail was now of such a
character that no one following them could be detected until quite
close, so it was useless to worry over what the Fogers might do.
"We'll just make the best time we can, and trust to luck," Tom said.
They traveled on for two days more, and saw nothing of the Fogers.
Sometimes they would pass through Mexican villages where they would
stop to eat, and Tom would make inquiries about the ancient city of
Poltec and the plain of the ruined temple. In every case the
Mexicans shook their heads. They had never heard of it. Long before
this Tom had ascertained that neither Delazes nor any of his men
knew the location of this plain nor had they ever heard of it.
"If there is such a place it must be far in--very far in," the
contractor had said. "You will never find it."
"Oh, yes, I will," declared Tom.
But when a week passed, and he was no nearer it than at first even
Tom began to get a little doubtful. They made inquiries at every
place they stopped, of villagers, of town authorities, and even in
some cases of the priests who obligingly went over their ancient
church records for them. But there was no trace of the temple plain,
and of course none of the city of gold.
Peasants, journeying along the road, parties of travelers, and often
little bodies of soldiers were asked about the ruined temple, but
always the answer was the same. They had never heard of it, nor of
the head-hunters either.
"Well, I'm glad of the last," said Mr. Damon, looking apprehensively
around, while Eradicate felt of his head to see if it was still fast on
his shoulders.
It was a weary search, and when two weeks had passed even Tom had to
admit that it was not as easy as it had seemed at first. As for the
Mexicans, they kept on, spurred by the offer of good wages. Delazes
watched Tom narrowly, for a sign or hint of what the party was
really after, but the young inventor and his friends guarded their
secret well.
"But I'm not going to give up!" cried Tom. "Our map may be wrong,
and likely it is, but I'm sure we're near the spot, and I'm going to
keep on. If we don't get some hint of it in a few days, though, I'll
establish a camp, go up in the air and see what I can pick out from
the balloon."
"That's the stuff!" cried Ned. "It will be a relief from these rough
ox carts."
So for the next few days they doubled and redoubled on their trail,
criss-crossing back and forth, ever hoping to get some trace of the
temple, which was near the entrance to the city of gold. In all that
time nothing was seen of the Fogers.
"We'll try the balloon to-morrow," decided Tom, as they went into
camp one night after a weary day. Every one was tired enough to
sleep soundly under the tents which were set up over the carts, in
which beds were laid. It must have been about midnight when Tom, who
felt a bit chilly (for the nights were cool in spite of the heat of
the day), got up to look at the campfire. It was almost out so he
went over to throw on some more logs.
As he did so he heard a noise as if something or somebody had leaped
down out of a tree to the ground. A moment later, before he could
toss on the sticks he had caught up, Tom was aware of two eyes of
greenish brightness staring at him in the glow of the dying fire,
and not ten feet away.