PLATINUM RIVER
“Mio—Pedro—you would jest with me,” Mrs. Gonzalas tried to laugh at the
joke but it was a feeble attempt and she gave a little disappointed sob.
“But this is the place. So many times you have told me, the river, small
with three branches, one dry, and on that one you found the
flakes—much—you brought much home; through the forests and over the
mountains you carried it to us.”
“Yes,” the brother said dully, for Pedro looked at them all as if he had
suddenly lost his reason or was a man asleep.
“I say, you probably got the wrong place, just a little off the course,”
Jim suggested. “Mind telling me how you marked it or remember where you
found the stuff!”
“Si, senor. I am lost, wander in a circle, then I sleep and when I wake
it is early morning. I wait for the sun—he is never wrong, then I start,
resolved that due east I will go until I reach a stream. On a stream is
always homes, settlements, maybe only trappers, but someone who will
tell me how to go,” he explained and he seemed glad to go into the
details.
“Sure, I understand,” Jim nodded.
“This stream I reach—nearer its source, and I follow with it to the
fork. My mind is easy, I rest again and set some snares. For my dinner I
get a rabbit and some fish with my hands. It is still day and I follow
the water to the dry fork—and that I follow a mile and I find the
platinum—quantities of it in the sharp sand.”
“There is no sand here,” Austin reminded him.
“None, but it is the dry fork—the only one,” Pedro insisted.
“Maybe it isn’t,” Jim argued. “Why not have another look?”
“This is the only dry fork,” Pedro answered.
“Did you tell anyone who might have come and got away with it?” Jim knew
nothing about how platinum was found.
“That is impossible. I left great quantities, although I washed all I
could carry in a bag I wove of the grass. This is a rocky place.”
“That’s right, but perhaps you passed it—”
“Impossible,” the brother put in.
“Well, then it must be further along. You probably were so excited that
you didn’t notice how far you came. Didn’t you leave a mark on the rocks
or something?” Austin was mighty sorry for the little band and he
couldn’t make out how the place could be lost. The only thing he could
think of was that Pedro had made a mistake in his reckoning, and being
an airman he knew any number of aviators did the same sort of thing and
got miles out of their courses.
“I paced it,” Pedro told him.
“You sure that you didn’t tell anyone? Mrs. Gonzalas said that while you
were in town—I mean Cuzco—that you heard rumors of platinum discoveries.
She said that was why you told the fib so I’d bring you.”
“That is true. At the fiesta many were drinking and two men talked of
platinum over a table. Them I heard, and later I saw others whisper
together, then hurry away—one left his wine.”
“Great Scott, but there is no sign of anyone coming here.”
“No one has been here. There is not a track but our own,” said Pedro.
“Well, now, come to think of it, while I was at the fiesta I heard a
couple of men talking. One said that he had found platinum, but he
didn’t say where it was. He looked like a tough customer. Said that he
had been in an airplane smash-up, the pilot was killed and this fellow
wandered around for days before he dragged himself to a trapper’s cabin.
The hunter helped him get home, I mean to Cuzco, and he was put into a
hospital. I don’t know how long he was there, but he was positive he
found platinum. Said that during the war he’d gone with a secret
commission into Russia to get some so he knew it well. He was telling it
to a fellow he was having lunch with. Did you see any airplane flying
over while you were here, or see a smash-up?”
“No. Had I seen a plane I should have remembered for I should have
concealed myself.”
“Who was the man—do you know where he went?” Mrs. Gonzalas asked.
“As it happens, he was killed. I don’t know the particulars, but I just
told you about it because it proves that there must be a place where the
mineral is and you have miscalculated. If you’d like me to, I’ll go up
in the air and look down through the glasses. I can soon spot the right
dry fork for you and it will save no end of time,” Jim suggested, and at
that sensible idea they all brightened.
“It must be somewhere near, and perhaps—this is later in the season and
more forks may have dried. It is many weeks since you were here,” the
brother suggested cheerfully.
“You are indeed a generous boy,” Mrs. Gonzalas smiled. “Quickly you will
find—” She stopped abruptly, for in the heavens somewhere near was a
plane and it was flying low. Intuitively they all looked up and a moment
later saw the machine like a great dragon-fly against the evening sky.
“Maybe I better wait until that lad gets out of the neighborhood,” Jim
suggested, for it suddenly occurred to him that it might be other men in
search for the precious mineral.
“Let us conceal ourselves in the brush,” Pedro whispered. “It will be
better—safer.” He helped his brother get Mrs. Gonzalas across the dry
bed and up toward the rocks where a great patch of thick undergrowth
would protect her from sight.
“Have you got any weapons—guns or anything?” Jim asked.
“This.” Pedro produced a small but efficient automatic. “My brother,
Arto—he has one larger, and a knife.”
“Take this.” Mrs. Gonzalas slipped a small gun and cartridges into Jim’s
hand and she seemed relieved to be rid of them. The lad judged by the
look of astonishment on her husband’s face that he did not know that she
had them in her possession.
As they scrambled up the rock any noise they made was deadened by the
roar of the motor of the plane circling over their heads and Jim
realized the Gonzalas probably anticipated some difficulty in
maintaining their rights to the platinum they had found. He had read
enough accounts of valuable discoveries in various parts of the world,
and desperate struggles against unscrupulous men grimly determined to
have at least a share in the wealth, regardless of whether their claim
was justified, to appreciate the great importance of starting their
enterprise well armed against attack. Being a Texas lad, Austin was
familiar with fire-arms of various types, so a glance at the one the
woman had given him, assured him that he understood its perfect
mechanism. About half way up the ledge they reached an irregular section
where a number of great stones looked as if they had been swept from the
rim above and caught where they fell. All about them grew tough
underbrush, some of it out of the crevices themselves, and this offered
an excellent vantage point. No one could see them from the sky, get to
them from behind, nor attack them from below without great difficulty.
“In here,” Pedro urged his wife. He saw a triangular opening large
enough for the woman to crawl in and be well protected.
“You will care take, mio,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
The brothers crawled to a second boulder close by but Jim climbed a bit
higher and dropped down between two rocks which formed a barricade about
him, yet gave him an excellent view of the dry bed and the vicinity.
Although he had said nothing about it, he was mighty anxious about the
De Castro’s plane and was glad that it was parked some distance away,
but he was fully aware that the pilot might very easily note its
presence. By that time the airman had evidently selected a landing site,
for the motor was shut off and the machine was gliding swiftly to earth.
As it dropped, Jim scowled anxiously and thought soberly of the
dangerous situation in which he and the Gonzalas were placed. The plane
was none other than one of those used by members of the gang who had
taken the Flying Buddies and the De Castros to Amy-Ran and endeavored to
force from the boys some information regarding the activities of Don
Haurea and his colleagues.
“If it’s anyone from that gang, and the chances are that it is, I’m in
for a hot time. They are sure to start a hunt for whoever came in the
plane,” the lad told himself soberly.
Carefully he watched the machine come down and he gasped with
astonishment at the spot chosen. It was not far from where the Gonzalas
had expected to find the platinum, and it was so wooded that the boy
wondered how the pilot expected to pull out of it when they were ready
to take the air again. When the machine stopped, three men hopped out,
took a swift survey of their surroundings, then one of them started
briskly toward the place where Pedro had stood a few minutes before
trying to understand why he did not find the precious mineral he had
left in the locality weeks before. It was apparent that the three men
did not suspect they were not alone in that basin of the Andes
mountains, for they rushed forward without caution, and this fact made
Jim breathe easier. He began to wonder why they had come and watched
them narrowly, every faculty alert and tense. If anything happened to
him, the Gonzalas would be in a mighty bad predicament. The men could
make their way out to civilization but it would be a hazardous
undertaking for the woman who appeared small and defenseless against
such ruthless odds. This realization made the boy doubly careful not to
disturb even a small stone that could attract the attention of the three
below, who were now standing in the middle of the dry fork. The one man
seemed to be surveying the locality with something of the same
astonishment that Pedro Gonzalas had evidenced.
“Say, I knew this was a darn fool errand,” snapped the smaller of the
three, who, by his clothes, was apparently the pilot.
“It is not so,” shouted the second man, whose clothes made him appear to
be some sort of woodsman or hunter. “If you have come right, it is
here.”
“Well, I did come right,” and then Jim had to brace himself, for there
was young Arthur Gordon, whose ranch at the edge of Cap Rock in Texas
was now deserted by the young outlaw who had managed to make endless
trouble for Don Haurea and the Flying Buddies.
“There is no platinum here and there never was any,” the third man
announced positively, and then Jim had another shock, for this man was
one of the chaps who had brought, or tried to bring, disaster to the
power-plant. His name was Alonzo and his brother had been killed along
with a mysterious stranger only a week before. Their activities had
branded them as criminals and the Peruvian government was anxious to get
hold of him dead or alive.
“You could not have come right. I tell you I copied the map from his
wallet, exactly,” the hunter insisted. Instantly it flashed into Jim’s
mind that this must be the trapper who had helped Ollie to civilization.
“Let me see it,” growled Gordon. Alonzo took the folded paper from his
pocket and the pair examined it carefully. “This is the place, all
right. You’ve been made a goat. See? There’s no platinum here.”
“It is a trick,” the trapper shrieked.
“You’re a fool,” Gordon bellowed and he doubled his fist threateningly.
“You would kill me and get the stuff yourself,” the trapper accused as
he backed away from them, but Alonzo, snarling furiously, leaped to
catch him. With a move so swift that the boy hiding above could not
follow it, the trapper threw a long glistening knife with such force and
accuracy that it plunged into Alonzo’s throat. He sank in a heap to the
ground, gave a convulsive twist and lay still.
“You—” Gordon swore furiously, then suddenly he stopped. Instantly he
seemed to forget the assault and his companion, and stood tense, his
eyes turned toward the sky. In a moment the unmistakable hum of an
airplane came to them. “My God—” He stepped quickly to the side of the
dead man, gave him an indifferent kick with his foot, rolling the body
over, pulled out the knife, which he threw to his companion, and deftly
he went through the pockets for other weapons.
“You are going to kill me—”
“Shut up! Take this, we’re going to have a heck of a fight on our hands
and you’ll need to use everything you can get to come out with a whole
skin. See!” He tossed a revolver to the trapper, and cutting the
cartridge belt from Alonzo’s body, divided its contents, all the while
looking about for some avenue of escape.
While Jim watched the movements of the two, his mind was busy trying to
puzzle out the whole affair. It was apparent that Gordon had come
expecting to find platinum. They had landed in almost exactly the same
spot where Gonzalas was positive he had discovered it and the map, or
whatever the trapper had copied from Ollie’s wallet, must have given the
same locality. Ollie had declared that he was sure of his find, and had
made his identification with such care that Arthur had located the
section from the plane. It was not possible, Jim reasoned, for both
Pedro Gonzalas and Ollie to have made the same error in the
calculations, yet there was no sign of anything of value in the
vicinity. It was certainly puzzling, but the boy could not give the
matter too much thought. With Gordon alone their position was dangerous
enough, but with the coming of the second plane it looked as if other
men had learned of the discovery and were bent upon getting possession
of the land. Austin watched the two below, who were giving their
undivided attention to the later arrivals, standing with weapons ready
to repel attack and seemingly to have abandoned any idea of leaving the
place without a fight.
“That bird’s not coming down,” Jim said softly to himself and drawing
some of the foliage carefully above his head, he ventured stealthily to
peep out.
The plane was executing a wide circle as low as the pilot dared in that
rugged section, and the boy noticed that at least three men were staring
over the sides of the cock-pit. The machine dived swiftly toward the
dried bed of the river-branch, leveled out precariously close, then with
nose tilted, shot high and so close to the ledge that the boy could
easily see the landing gear. He wondered why Gordon and the trapper did
not run to shelter, or get away in their own machine, for it was obvious
that they anticipated trouble. Perhaps he did not dare risk a smash-up
if he attempted flight, for his machine was not in a position from which
to make a hasty take-off; also, probably Arthur thought that concealment
would serve him little, for his machine must have been spotted
immediately by the men in the air. They were zooming swiftly and as
steeply as they dared. For a moment Austin thought they were going to
climb well out of the dangerous zone above the ledges and go away, but
this idea was soon dismissed, for by the sound he could tell that the
machine was circling again, and presently it came into view far below;
diving as before, only this time, he saw one of the men high in his
seat. Down it roared, the wheels barely escaping the topmost branches as
it came like some bird of prey, the men straining forward with faces set
and determined.
Something suddenly startled Gordon, for he jumped toward them as hard as
he could go and in a zig-zag course. He clutched the trapper as he
passed, but the man stumbled, and almost at the same instant there was a
flash of flame, followed by a vicious rat-a-tat-tat that sent a hail of
shot in a wide swath. It cut the trapper down in a lifeless heap.
“A machine gun,” Jim whispered. “Regular war stuff!” He was so
fascinated that he could hardly take his eyes off the deadly instrument
of destruction and it wasn’t until bits of stone and rebounding bullets
began to pepper the rocks where he and his friends were hiding that he
backed further into the shelter of the boulders. He hoped fervently that
the Gonzalas were well protected from the attack and he tried to
calculate a way of helping his companions. He couldn’t leave his own
corner without risking being seen and that certainly would not help
them.
From under his hiding place the boy listened intently and heard the
plane going up again as if to repeat the maneuver, then suddenly it came
back more quickly and its motor was shut off.
“They must be coming down,” he told himself. Creeping close to the
opening he made a place so that he could see what was taking place below
and then he saw Arthur standing waving his white handkerchief. By that
he knew that the young Texan was signaling his surrender. The machine
descended quickly, presently landed, ran a few feet and stopped.
“What you doing here?” came a hoarse demand, as a man leaped from the
cock-pit. He shoved his helmet back from his face and then Jim
recognized the chap who had been with Ollie Boome at the fiesta, the man
the police were so anxious to capture, and the same fellow who had
circled above Amy-Ran early that morning. It hardly seemed possible that
so much could have happened in one day.
“I might ask you the same question,” Gordon answered indifferently, “and
I might add, what are you shooting the place up for?”
“You might, yes. Explanations are in order but they are coming from you.
What are you butting into the chief’s work for? This isn’t the first
time—”
“No? Well, the chief isn’t taking me into his confidence these days so
how the blazes could I know he was sending a bunch of you fellows here?”
Arthur demanded hotly. He had taken a cigarette from his pocket and was
lighting it coolly.
“Of course you didn’t know—you or Alonzo—”
“Of course. You killed the two of them—the trapper and the big gun. That
may require some explanation—”
“None of your funny business. What are you doing here? Why did you
come?” the man snapped.
“Probably for the same reason you did, but I don’t know how we all
happened to land in this place,” Gordon answered. “Alonzo came to me
with the hunter and said they wanted me to fly them to a place where
platinum had been found. The trapper had a map, it’s here on the ground
somewhere, but I don’t know how you got wind of the same thing.”
“It’s none of your business. You’d better get into your machine and
report to the chief. He’s got a job for you—”
“You need not be so anxious to get rid of me—”
“Aw, come on, let’s give him the works; he’s always balling things up,”
one of the other men proposed.
“There’s nothing here to ball up, old timer. We’re a lot of goats,
somebody’s—”
“Goats, what do you mean?”
“There’s no platinum here, that’s what I mean. Have a look for yourself.
There never was any here,” Gordon told them. Instantly the men began to
look about the section, and those who had flash-lights turned them on,
for it was beginning to get dark.
“It’s some of his funny business, I’ll bet. He’s just making fools out
of us again, or trying to, but he doesn’t play that game twice with
me—not me.” One of the men stepped quickly to Gordon’s side and swung
his fist, but the Texan’s foot shot out and the fellow went sprawling.