SHIVERING ROCKS
“Hey you, come on en watch your step,” the Admiral ordered abruptly
although the little band of prisoners had seen or heard nothing which
announced that the next move was to be made.
“Right-O, don’t rush the mourners,” Jim answered, then he turned to his
bracelet-mate and grinned broadly. “After you, my dear Gonzalas.”
“Pray, I beg of you go first,” Arto responded equally cheerful.
“Now, none of your funny business,” the General snapped suspiciously.
“Maybe you won’t find things to laugh at—”
“We will as long as you’re around, old comic strip,” Jim told him, but
he proceeded at the head of the awkward squad.
They seemed, as far as the boy could make out in the darkness, to be on
a plateau, and he guessed it was somewhere in the coast range of the
Andes. The spot on which they had landed looked like a great shelf, the
outer edge of which must descend steeply. The wall they began to follow
was high, made a long curve and appeared to be perpendicular. Once Arto
stumbled, and in order to help them both, Jim’s hand braced against the
massive rock and he discovered that its surface was surprisingly smooth.
That fact made the boy decide that they were above one of the numerous
streams which had worn its way to its present depths through countless
ages of rushing among the jagged cliffs until it had cut the solid
foundation.
“Please, I slip,” Mrs. Gonzalas said suddenly.
“I hold you,” her husband assured her. The two ahead paused a moment to
assist if they could.
“Come on, she can’t slide off.”
“Why can’t you give us a bit of light?” Jim protested. He knew perfectly
well that the ledge must be quite wide or it would never have been
selected for a landing of the huge plane, but the woman couldn’t reason
things like that; she had no means of knowing.
“Aw, well,” grumbled the General, but he went to the couple and
proceeding beside them, using the smallest flash with its ray pointed
directly on the route.
After that they made better progress for, although a chap may be
perfectly positive that certain conditions must exist he will not fail
to falter on his way if he cannot catch an assuring glimpse of where he
is putting his feet. With seemingly endless piles of mountains mounting
to the very heavens all about him, and knowing that perhaps only a few
rods away the ledge drops off hundreds of feet, trying to walk forward
in the darkness is a nerve-racking undertaking. Another thing that
flashed through the boy’s mind was that Gordon was exactly the type of
enemy to order that they be taken to the ledge and shoved over out of
his way forever. More than once he had been frustrated in his endeavor
to rid himself of the Flying Buddies, and with each failure his hatred
was growing. Sending the innocent Gonzalas over with his neighbor from
Texas would not deter him for a moment. Arthur would reason that they
knew too much and therefore were a menace to him.
“Turn in that cut,” the admiral ordered.
They had reached a hall-like opening in the cliff, that looked as if it
had been split out by highly clever stone workers, and here the General
turned his flash, but he no longer held it close to the ground. It was
likely that he did not fear its being seen so he was more liberal with
the illumination. They had to go single file partly because of the
narrowness of the way, and partly because of their manacled hands. They
were all woefully tired and stumbling along with dragging feet. Jim
began to wish that whatever the Boss had in store for them could be got
over with immediately. He felt as if he simply couldn’t go much further.
The hallway wound around, opened into a great cave-like tunnel, and just
beyond that they came to a large square basin, like a great roofless
room. Above one side the stones formed an arch which hid the occupants
from sight of airmen and here Austin saw a fire, built well against the
rocks; about it several men were stationed as if waiting. The arrival of
the men with their captives did not create much excitement and Jim
guessed that something of importance was about to happen, or someone was
expected to arrive at any moment. The men were half lounging, their
collars turned up and their caps pulled down, so at first he could
distinguish none of them very clearly.
“Come over here,” the Admiral ordered, and escorted his party some
distance from the group.
“I’m going to sit down,” Jim announced, and promptly dropped to the
ground, or rather the stones. “Whew, that feels better.” He noticed some
of the men glance indifferently in his direction, but the four of them
made themselves as comfortable as possible while the Admiral and his
companion stood over them, guns in hand.
Several minutes passed during which time no one spoke and as Austin
leaned back to rest he looked up toward the sky, which was a clear cold
blue with stars that seemed to have retreated to their greatest distance
from the globe as if they rather disapproved of the actions of men.
“Queer how different they look when we are flying near to them,” he
thought. “As if they are interested and want to be encouraging.” He
reasoned that the place they were in was probably near the coast and
considerably north of Cuzco where the range of the mountains was
broader, with wide stretches of uninhabited territory. The Flying Buddy
felt sure that only in such a place would the great Boss have a
stronghold such as this, and it was evident that the men were familiar
with the section; enough so that they had a landing site as well as the
corner with its overhanging ledge.
“Suppose it’s the Boss they are waiting for,” the lad whispered to Arto
who was seated beside him.
“Si,” Arto answered.
“Perhaps he’s got some kind of cave or something. Do you know anything
about where we are?”
“No. It might be east, far from Cuzco.”
“I was thinking north—”
“The Andes are vast,” Arto reminded him, and Jim nodded. There was no
telling where they were. All they knew was that the Boss had ordered
that they be brought at once, and it was apparent that no harm was to be
done any of them for the present.
“Must be that he wants to try and pump me,” was Austin’s mental
decision, and he shut his lips grimly determined to keep them closed and
retain the secret this hated gang leader was determined to discover,
regardless of the cost in money or men. He glanced curiously about the
dim place but it was so dark and shadowy that he could not even be sure
now exactly where the narrow entrance was that had admitted them. He
wished that he could go to sleep and he saw Pedro trying to coax his
wife to get some rest, but she was terribly frightened and her great
brown eyes were wide open as if their lids would never close again. Just
at that moment there was a slight stir near the fire, and in a couple of
seconds the boy saw three men move quickly across the dark space and
into the rim of light. Their backs were to the prisoners, and after a
few words were exchanged in undertones which could not be understood by
the captives, two of the men turned slightly, and then Jim almost jumped
out of his skin.
“It is Cardow,” Arto whispered, scarcely above his breath.
“And the fellow Gordon,” Jim added. His mind was busy, and then he
recalled that the gang lieutenant had said that he expected to go to
Amy-Ran fastness by midnight. Surely it was long past that, but Jim’s
wrist watch was under his shirt cuff where he kept it while he was
flying because there was a clock among the instruments of the
dial-board.
“Bad men! I regret for my brother—”
“Yes. Any idea what time it is?” Jim asked.
“Nearly two o’clock when we arrive. Perhaps a little after now, ten or
fifteen minutes. The night is very long,” he sighed.
In that case, Jim calculated, they couldn’t be near the fastness unless
something had gone wrong; there had been delay in setting off the
dynamite. Perhaps Cardow and Gordon had just returned from the
blowing-up of the enormous rocks intending to report their success to
the Boss. He glanced toward the two faces but there certainly was no
trace of rejoicing in the expressions the men wore. Cardow was calm
enough, but Gordon and the other chap puffed furiously at cigarettes and
acted as if they anticipated something not altogether pleasant. It might
be that they were in for a grilling from the Boss and did not look
forward to the interview with any great relish. Then Cardow said
something, and one of the men came toward them, spoke a sharp word to
the guards, who straightened quickly.
“Get up, all of you, and come on,” the General ordered.
“And no funny stuff,” added the Admiral in a growl.
“Right-O,” Jim answered, as they got to their feet. They were led close
to the wall instead of straight across the space, and presently the four
were standing in the glow of the fire, which cast fantastic shadows
about their feet. Gordon and Cardow eyed them blackly.
“Looks like a shower,” Jim informed them cheerfully.
“You’ll think it’s a harder storm than that,” Gordon shot back at him.
“That will do, Arthur, I am conducting this questionnaire. Is this the
boy you had tied up?”
“Yes, it is.”
“That’s all I want to know.” He turned to Arto. “Who are you?”
“I am Arto Carlos de Gonzalas; this _gentleman_ is my brother Pedro, and
his wife,” Arto presented his family as ceremoniously as his hand-cuffed
wrist permitted.
“Which of you conceived the idea of going to that dry fork of the river
to-day?” Cardow demanded.
“I—”
“The project was mine, senor,” Pedro spoke up quickly.
“What were you doing there?”
“We did nothing, senor,” Pedro answered simply.
“You didn’t just happen there!” Cardow snarled. “What did you go for? I
haven’t a lot of time to waste, darn it, and if you don’t tell the
truth, I’ll have the boys stick your wife’s feet in the fire—”
“Oh—” Mrs. Gonzalas started to scream, but a hand was put quickly over
her mouth.
“Hush, mio,” her husband begged earnestly, then turning to the Admiral
who had silenced her, he snapped furiously, “You keep your hands to
yourself, senor—”
“Let her alone,” Cardow ordered, then he added to Pedro, “No one is
going to hurt her if you tell the truth.”
“I searched for platinum,” Pedro told them. “That is the truth,
absolutely,” and when he said it the men drew closer, eagerly.
“How did you happen to go there in search of it? Did you find any around
that section?” Cardow questioned sharply.
“Si, senor, I did. Once, many weeks ago when hunting I got lost and
wandered much time before I happen to cross the stream with the many
branches and the dry fork. I found platinum. I noted the place, followed
the stream and made my way out. Today—if it is to-day, I and my brother
and my wife desired to return and get some of the mineral. We persuaded
Senor Austin to take us in his airplane and he did. Before we start, we
did not tell him our purpose in going,” Pedro explained at length and
deliberately. The men were crowding around now, and Cardow snapped a
dozen questions, all of which the elder Gonzalas answered quite frankly.
“You did not find the stuff?”
“No, senor, we did not. The dry fork with the platinum I do not find, as
you know.”
“And you are positive that it was along a dry fork of that particular
stream?”
“Positive! Why I did not find it—if I make the mistake—I cannot answer.
Other planes came and we give up the search.”
“Did you take any of it away with you when you left the first time?”
Gordon put in this question.
“Yes. At Panama I sold what I had. It was pure—excellent quality.”
At that the men exchanged significant glances and then Jim was able to
pick out Joe, Brick and Carp who had arrived at the dry fork with
Cardow. He thought that some of the other men looked like those who had
been in the gang that had tied the Flying Buddies and the two De Castros
when the “volcano” had intervened to save them.
“Do you know anything more about the place?” Cardow turned to Arto.
“No.”
“Did you ever go there?”
“No, I did not.”
“Maybe while his brother was in Panama he went and cleaned out the bed,”
Brick suggested.
“Sure—that’s what happened—what did you do with it?” Joe poked his face
into the former aviator’s.
“With my brother I went to Panama, and while we were there the notes of
my brother were in the strong room at the bank in Lima,” he answered
coldly.
“Ah—”
“If I need any help from you fellows, I’ll let you know,” Cardow told
them hotly. “Now get back.” They slouched to the wall and stared
sullenly at the chief.
It suddenly occurred to Jim that if one of them ever came upon his
lieutenant when the man was off guard, he would be knifed. As the boy
got a better look at them they appeared to him more like a lot of hired
thugs picked up from the numerous big cities in the northern continent,
than men who were members of a well organized gang banded together under
their Boss for the purpose of rediscovering the ancient secrets of the
Yncas buried hundreds of years ago when their oppressors were
annihilating them by the thousands and stealing their vast treasure.
“That is all there is to tell,” Pedro spoke up quietly.
“Have you any idea how you happened to make a mistake about the place?”
Cardow asked, but although he was inquiring into something which was
really none of his business, there was nothing offensive in his manner.
“I have not,” Pedro answered, then added, “The rest of the day we have
been—our minds otherwise occupied.”
“You have had rather a hot time of it. Why on earth did you run away? I
saw the plane before we came down and we found tracks among the rocks,
but you had vamoosed. What did you do that for?”
“My wife should be protected. The first plane came, there was a fight—a
man was killed—”
“Yes—just a minute, Cardow—you saw that—now how did the fellow Alonzo
get killed?” Gordon demanded.
“The trapper was offensive—I believe he claimed that you two were what
you call—double-crossing him. The other man jump, very mad, and the
hunter threw the knife. He went down at once—a woodsman’s aim is always
excellent,” Pedro explained, but they wished that Gordon could have been
implicated in the murder of Alonzo.
“Well, that ought to satisfy you,” Gordon snapped at Joe. Although the
fellow made no comment his face was ugly.
“Every darn thing that you’ve been in has been shot to blazes,” Brick
flared. “Tain’t no wonder we’re kinda tired of you.”
“That will do,” Cardow ordered. He started to turn to Jim, but just then
a man hurried toward them.
“He’s back, Cardow, with more stuff, and putting it under.”
“It better work this time, or blast his hide, he’ll get some blasting!
We’re not hanging around here all night!”
“He says it will be set in a few minutes.”
“All right, come back and tell us when he’s ready.” Austin heard this
exchange, and then he made up his mind that they really were near
Amy-Ran fastness. The gang must have tried to blow up the stones, but
something had gone wrong with the explosives.
“All right.” The fellow started away, and Cardow called him.
“Tell him to put it well around that low shelf—”
“That’s what he was doing when I left.”
“Very well. That’s the rock that tipped and scared the wits out of the
bunch, so that’s one place we can be pretty sure is worth getting under.
And warn him to have the charges so the whole works will not blow
everything inside to thunder. That stone is hollow as a drum, I know,
and I’ll have no more of those half baked jobs. The Boss will be along
himself, and if things aren’t working right—” He didn’t finish the
sentence and at the announcement that the “Boss” was expected, the men
took on a more alert attitude.
“Yes, he knows, but I’ll remind him again.” The chap hurried off so
quietly there wasn’t even one step heard, and almost immediately he had
disappeared.
Jim wondered how soon the great leader would appear, and he also
wondered if the Peruvian police chief was aware that this “Boss” of
gangdom was in his country. Recalling the man with the Green Mask who
had taken charge of things the night on the ledge, Austin expected that
the real head of the vast organization would probably appear in some
similar disguise. It was a pretty theatrical sort of get-up, but the lad
decided that the Boss did not dare permit any of his men to know him
personally, for no doubt every disgruntled one would betray him to the
police if he got a chance.
Cardow turned toward him again, but before a question could be put,
Gordon spoke in a low tone to the lieutenant. When the discourse was
finished, the leader nodded impatiently.
“Now, look here,” he snapped. “I’m not wasting a minute on you. We know
that you are in with the bunch we are after, so, you answer my
questions, everyone of them, and no stalling.”
“I’ll answer anything I can,” Jim promised.
“See that you do.”
“First, come across with what you know about the Haurea’s and what they
are doing. Where are they located?”
“The Don has a large ranch which adjoins my father’s in Texas.”
“We know he has a ranch there—now, no stalling—I told you before. If you
don’t come out with the truth, I’m going to burn the whole bunch of you
right here until you loosen up—see—”
“Yes, I see.” Jim’s face paled and his eyes rested a moment on the
Gonzalas. He had no doubt that Cardow would carry out his threat and the
woman would receive no kindlier treatment than the men, but he bit his
lip and clenched his fists. Arto’s fingers closed reassuringly over his
own. Then another figure ran through the opening toward the fire and
everyone turned to see him.
“Did you get him?” Gordon snapped.
“We got him—”
“Where is he?”
“Cooked!”
“Cooked? What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. We followed the plane all afternoon, brought it down
ablaze, and the Caldwell kid went up with it; ain’t that plain enough?”