UNIDENTIFIED
“Morning, Buddy. What do you suppose that guy meant last night when he
said, ‘maybe there wasn’t and maybe there was’ something in that wallet?
It got my ailerons flapping,” Bob said as he came into Jim’s room. His
Flying Buddy was already half dressed, although no one in the De Castro
household was astir at that hour.
“That got my think tank clanking, too, but I reckon the old bean’s
crusted, for I can’t make it out. I reached a lot of conclusions, you
can take your choice. Perhaps he was just shooting off his mouth; he may
think the wallet Carlos picked up is something different from what it
is, and then again, it’s possible that there is something about the
leather case which contains the secret. We couldn’t find anything more
when we looked at it last night before it was locked in the safe after
they tried to steal it,” Austin answered.
“You haven’t anything on me as a deductor. Now, all we have to do is
eliminate all but one, and there we are with the answer,” Bob grinned.
“Right-O. Any ideas on which to eliminate?”
“My dear step-brother, companion of my youth, I can argue with fervor
for each and every one of them, or, with equal conviction against them.”
“We’re equally dumb. Let’s form a trust. Sure you didn’t forget to tell
Senor de Castro that we were going up for a bracer this morning? We
don’t want him to think that some doo-doo kidnaped us.”
“I told him. Said that we’d be here in time for breakfast, so let’s get
a move on. Ah, ‘Lark,’ I hear you calling me!”
A bit later the Flying Buddies were again in the hangar beside the
graceful little plane. This time they took the precaution of having a
good look about the place to make sure that no one was hanging around
ready to throw a monkey wrench at their heads, or concealed in the
“Lark” itself. On the trip from the United States they had found a
stowaway while flying above the Caribbean Sea and the vicious brute had
fought savagely to bring them down. A few days after their arrival,
enemies of Mr. Austin had secreted a huge poisonous snake in the
communication tube between the two cock-pits. It had crawled leisurely
out over the nearly paralyzed Bob who was taking pictures of the coast
from the back. With the settlement of the power-plant difficulties and
the apprehension of the ring-leaders, the boys had felt safe from
further attempts, but it was now evident that their association with
Carlos de Castro had started a new string of enemies on their trail.
Although the men had been captured the night before, there were probably
others on the outside who would seek revenge because of the failure of
the attack, or make further efforts to get possession of the mysterious
wallet.
“All’s well that ends well,” Bob called when his share of the inspection
was finished.
“Here too. Hop in,” Jim urged. Presently they were both ready and Austin
took the controls, the engine started a cheering roar, the propeller
whirled, and the plane rolled lightly along the runway, curved a bit,
her nose lifted and she began to climb eagerly into the air. The Flying
Buddies grinned at each other and their eyes glistened happily.
“This is the life,” Bob bellowed, and Jim nodded. It was a clear,
beautiful morning. The sky in the east was tinted with long pinkish grey
streaks which announced the coming of the sun from beneath the horizon.
They had made no plan as to where they would go, but just started with
the unconquerable desire to fly, and as the plane scrambled into the
heavens they filled their lungs with deep breaths of pure joy. Up and up
they raced until the altitude meter read three thousand feet, then the
pilot leveled off, made a wide circle, and flipped her into a double
loop just to relieve their feelings. He pulled her out with nicety, then
leveled off and shot forward.
“Let’s go over Amy-Ran,” Bob proposed.
“Right-O.”
The course was quickly calculated and the plane’s nose pointed in the
direction of the ancient fastness which was still the property of the
descendants of the famous Yncas, whose people had once inhabited the
vast empire which was the world’s most civilized and prosperous
government. Jim increased the speed and the plane roared through the sky
above the magnificent Andes Mountains with their numberless spurs and
beautiful valleys, which looked as if only the greatest of nature’s
artists had been entrusted to shape their perfect outline. Here and
there were high plains whose smooth surfaces looked as if they were set
with glistening opals, while others were dark-wooded with forests which
were broken only by lovely lakes of crystal-clear water that reflected
the sky above them like wonderful mirrors. The sun, rising with a
splendid burst of brilliance, sent its rays flashing until every inch
they touched leaped to life and color.
The Flying Buddies took in all of the marvelous scenes rolling beneath
them, and were intensely sorry for grounded chaps who had never
experienced the thrill of viewing such a panorama to the accompaniment
of wind singing through the wires of an airplane carrying them swiftly
through space between the earth and sky. Finally, in the distance, they
made out the S-shaped plateau of Amy-Ran, whose edge was rimmed like a
crown with the giant stone that had once formed a section of its
inaccessible fortress.
In a few minutes the “Lark” was circling like a bird above one end and
as Jim calculated his landing he recalled the day Carlos de Castro had
brought them to the spot, the day that young Arthur Gordon had so
mysteriously appeared and assaulted them. There had been no means of
escape from the precipitous rock or the murderous attack of the Texas
outlaw and Austin had been sure that it was only a matter of minutes
before their three lifeless bodies would be pounced upon by hungry
vultures whose nests were secreted on nearby crags. When his Buddies lay
helpless, Jim was standing before a black-nosed revolver but before its
trigger could be pressed Yncicea Haurea and his uncle Corso stepped into
the ruin and the tide of battle was swiftly and effectively turned. The
motor was silenced and the “Lark” was gliding quietly down.
“I’m taking her where she can be a bit out of sight.”
“Great brain work. Never know who may take the air with a view to doing
scout work. Peaceful spot, this old Peru, when there is no one about,”
said Bob. He too had been thinking of the wild experiences they had been
through, but his thoughts had been on the more recent happenings, and as
they made the descent his eyes lingered with amusement at the nearby
peak which a few nights before had given a perfect imitation of a
seething volcano with tons of burning lava rushing threateningly on
Gordon and his gang. If it had been the real thing, the Flying Buddies
and the two De Castros would have been buried under many feet of molten
rock and cinders. But as a piece of clever stage business it had struck
terror into the hearts of the man with the green mask and his
companions. In their mad rush to get above the danger zone several of
them had been killed.
“Give a calf enough rope and he’ll hang himself,” Caldwell remarked as
the plane’s wheels touched the chosen landing spot and rolled a few
feet. “Queer how many of those guys have eliminated themselves in one
way or another.”
“Yes. I should think they’d begin to tumble to themselves that they are
amateurs and quit trying to get the better of the men they are so intent
on robbing,” Jim answered. The plane rolled beneath the shelter of the
fortress wall and when she was in a position where she could not be seen
by curious flyers, he brought her to a stop. “I have a hunch that some
bright lad in that gang may come flying about to have a look at the
remains of the volcano.”
“Well, won’t he get the jolt of his gay careless youth when he can’t
find a crater as big as a hole in a tooth?” chuckled Bob. “Any hunches
that we’ll find a Lab. man around?”
“Thought we might,” Jim admitted.
“And presto, I appear!” It was Ynilea, who smiled broadly. “I too am
becoming subject to attacks of hunch and when we found that you were not
going to go home this morning under central power I observed your
hilarious flight and was delighted when you determined to pay Amy-Ran
another visit.”
“Gee, did you see the party they tried to pull last night?” Bob demanded
quickly.
“Not the ‘party’ but the records this morning.”
“A man called Ollie had a plane smash-up somewhere in the Andes and
thinks he discovered a rich deposit of platinum,” Jim explained.
“Where?” Ynilea was interested.
“I don’t know,” the boy answered, then went on and told of the
conversation they had overheard in the Santa Maria and the later attack
of the chap who wanted the wallet.
“We don’t know yet if it is the same man but it looks as if it might
be,” Bob put in. “I say—” He stopped abruptly, for their quick ears had
caught the unmistakable hum of an airplane motor, “that one of your
crates?”
“No.” Ynilea listened intently. “No.”
They sat very still as the sound grew in volume, then the Lab. man
stepped cautiously toward the place where the boys had run the “Lark”
under cover. Quickly the Flying Buddies jumped out of straps and
parachutes and hurried after him. In a moment they were making their way
along the outer edge of the great wall, much as Carlos had said he did
when he came there as a small boy and thought he saw an opening into a
court. They proceeded carefully, keeping out of sight of the approaching
airman, until suddenly Ynilea held up his hand. Just ahead of them they
saw the Indian woman whose age no one could ever guess, coming very
slowly from the opposite direction. She was wearing a robe which hung in
folds from her shoulders, a loose hood covered her head, and the
material looked so exactly like the stones beside which she walked that
if she had not moved she could not have been distinguished from one of
them. She seemed to be aware of their presence, for in a moment she
stopped, made a slight movement of her head, and Ynilea instantly went
to her, the boys close at his heels.
“Come,” she said softly.
Her hand, still concealed by the folds of her sleeve, moved over the
nearest stone, and after an instant, during which the Flying Buddies
almost held their breaths, the great mass moved. It slipped back about
three inches, then slid along like a folding door, leaving an opening
wide enough for them all to enter. The boys drew quick breaths of
astonishment as they found themselves in a good-sized room which was cut
out of the solid rock of the mountain. The heavy panel returned to its
place, and a moment later they stood close together on another rock
which dropped with perfect smoothness about ten feet, then admitted them
into another small room. This seemed to be in the section near the edge
of the cliff. Ynilea moved back a part in one corner, and through a
clever screen of foliage they could get a good view of the sky.
“My gosh, Carlos was right, he did see an opening in the wall,” Bob said
softly, and Ynilea turned a questioning glance toward him.
“He and some boys were here, I mean on top, years ago, and the little
fellow declared he saw an opening in the wall. He was separated from his
fellows, but when he found them and wanted to show it to them, he
couldn’t locate it again and they thought he was dreaming, or his
imagination working over-time,” Jim explained.
“His story was not credited?” Ynilea was adjusting a sort of periscope.
“No. He was such a little fellow they were sure he was mistaken.”
“Oh, there she is,” the tall Indian announced. He turned a wheel in the
instrument and the boys could easily see the plane they had heard
circling in a wide loop over their heads. As they watched, the man
adjusted the glass until it was like a powerful telescope and Jim
whistled as the flying machine was brought close enough for them to see
the dark face of the pilot who was leaning over the side of his plane.
He seemed to be looking for something and scowled when he did not find
it.
“Bet the first gold tooth I get against a plugged dime that your hunch
was right, Buddy. He is looking for the crater and the evidence of the
near-disaster.”
“He’s coming lower.” The plane, which had been almost at the ceiling,
began to spiral, and the man in the cock-pit pressed a pair of field
glasses to his eyes.
“He might pick us out—”
“The glass is not directed this way. As you say, he is looking for that
crater,” Ynilea answered.
“Be a nice little treat if you could really shoot off a lid and chase
him with a blast of smoke and fire,” Jim chuckled.
“It would indeed,” Ynilea agreed with a smile.
“Give him something to write home about.”
“Looks as if he is planning to land,” Jim explained, and the plane was
descending closer. Soon it was so near that the pilot did not require
the glasses, and again he stared with a puzzled scowl toward the cliff
which was supposed to have erupted. Then his machine began to rock
crazily and bump as if it were riding deep, choppy waves, and for the
next few minutes he had to give his undivided attention to maintaining
his equilibrium. As he attended strictly to his job they could no longer
see him, but they could see that he had struck something which
threatened to end his flight in a wreck. He banked, curved, climbed, and
dived in a desperate effort to force himself out of the pocket, or
whatever it was that he had struck, but it wasn’t until he was almost a
speck in the sky again that he really recovered his balance. A moment
later, the glass was pressed to his eyes and he stared through space as
if determined to solve the mystery. Twice he descended quickly, but each
time the plane misbehaved, so at last he gave it up, circled once more,
then leveled off and shot away in the direction from which he had come.
“Pleasant entertainment while it lasted,” laughed Bob. “Thought for a
while we’d have him on our piazza.”
“Sorry he didn’t stick long enough to give you a really good time,”
laughed Ynilea. “One reason I wanted to see you boys today is to tell
you that we have a small television we’ll attach to the ‘Lark’s’ radio.
We were going to wait until you landed back in Texas to have it
installed, but since you are staying over, we’ll fix it in a set and
exchange it for you as soon as it’s ready. You can pay a visit to the
Lab. to learn how it works.”
“Oh, that will be great. I say, you’ll soon have that plane so we won’t
need to come to the ground at all,” announced Bob.
“Should you like that?”
“And how! But, Buddy we’d better get home or the De Castros will think
we’re lost—or never coming down,” Jim warned.
“Too true,” agreed Bob.
Presently the “Lark” was again in the air, but no “pockets or bumps”
interfered with her flight when she leveled off, her nose pointed toward
the De Castro home, and she rushed swiftly to the music of singing
engine and whistling wind. The boys were perfectly satisfied with their
morning adventure, but when they lighted on the runway, they saw Carlos
waiting for them on the piazza.
“My father was getting distressed,” he told them soberly.
“Sorry we over-stayed,” Jim apologized.
“You are not so very much behind time, but there is some surprising
news. Will you join us as you are? It’s quite all right if you care to
do so.”
“We’ll get there more quickly,” Bob answered, so they hurried to the
cool breakfast room off the portico, where they found Senor de Castro
pacing the floor.
“I beg your pardon, sir—” Jim began.
“That’s all right, my boy, breakfast is a movable feast. Did my son tell
you the news?”
“No sir.”
“Well, the man you call Ollie was found late last night. He had been
beaten and his skull crushed to a pulp. He is dead.”
“As Hamlet’s cat,” Carlos added, glancing at Bob. “Padre is a bit
anxious about you—and me too—and he wants us to be mighty careful.”
“We will, senor,” Jim assured him.
“It seems that the police have traced the man’s movements, questioned
persons who saw him, including the attendants at the fiesta. No one
seems to know who was with him when he had refreshments. As I remember
that was when you boys overheard his conversation about the platinum.”
“That’s right,” answered Jim.
“In such a case suspicious characters are rounded up and held until
their innocence is established. They have several of these men and ask
you to come to the detention quarters and see if you can identify any of
them.”
“Have you any idea when they picked up those men?” Jim inquired.
“Very early this morning.”
“Then they have the wrong fellows.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw the man in an airplane this morning. He was flying very
much higher than we were, and looking over the side. I saw him quite
plainly, sir.”
“Was that the lad?” demanded Bob.
“I’m sure of it,” Jim nodded.
“Could you describe the plane?” Carlos wanted to know.
“I could do that,” Jim answered, then he frowned thoughtfully. “If he’s
a member of the gang we’ve been having all the fireworks with he or some
of his gang may try to waylay us on the way home. Could the information
be given to the police confidentially?”
“That shall be attended to, my boy. You early birds do manage to—”
“Gobble the worms,” Bob suggested.