The Mark on the Door (12 page)

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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

BOOK: The Mark on the Door
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“Let's chance it and try swimming downstream!” Joe suggested frantically.
“Okay!”
The Hardys quickly removed their shoes, tied the laces together, and draped them around their necks. They jumped feet first into the water. No sooner had the icy current swept them away, when several Indians arrived on the scene.
“They're not coming after us!” Joe sputtered.
The boys fought hard to keep their heads above the churning water as the river carried them through a dark tunnel. Minutes later, they saw a bright circle of light ahead.
“Sunlight!” Frank shouted, but his joy suddenly froze to horror.
The underground river gushed through the opening and cascaded out of sight with a thunderous roar!
CHAPTER XVI
Face to Face
THE SWIFT current tumbled the Hardys toward the river's drop. They were about to be swept through, when Joe, in the lead, grabbed a segment of rock projecting from the wall of the tunnel about three feet above his head.
“Hang on to me!” he shouted.
Frank clung to Joe's waist and gazed through the opening. The water cascaded to jagged rocks below.
“Don't let go!” he screamed, “or we're finished!”
“I'll hang on as long as I can!” Joe shouted.
The water pounded against the boys and threatened to carry them with it into the chasm.
“The rock-climbing tools!” Frank cried out.
Joe hooked his left arm around the projection of rock and pulled a piton from his belt. Using the small hatchet in his right hand and holding the pin in the other, he hammered the piton into the tunnel wall. Then he took the coil of rope and threaded one end through the eyelet of the piton to form a double line.
Grasping it firmly with both hands, Joe let go of the rock and slowly fed out line. With the current pulling the boys' bodies forward, they were swept outside the opening. They dangled precariously above the chasm as water gushed over them.
“There's a narrow ledge to our left!” Frank yelled. “It looks just big enough for us to stand on if we can get close enough to reach it.”
He kicked out hard and the boys started to swing back and forth like a human pendulum. Frank, with only one hand around his brother's waist, reached out for the ledge with the other.
“Almost!” he called as they arched up toward it.
Finally, after a hard swing, Frank managed to grab hold of the ledge. He and Joe pulled themselves up onto it. Then Joe released one half of the double line and pulled the rope free from the piton inside the tunnel.
“It's about two hundred feet to the bottom of this waterfall,” Frank remarked. “And another two hundred to the top of the mountain,” he said as he peered at the sheer rock wall stretching above them.
“And it's too far to the bottom for the amount of rope we have,” Joe observed. “Our best chance is to try making it to the top.”
Joe took one of his four remaining pitons and hammered it into the rock wall above the ledge. Using it as a foothold, he carefully lifted himself up. Then he drove another piton into the wall and repeated the procedure.
Frank began the dangerous climb immediately behind his brother. When Joe had used the last of his pitons, Frank reached down, loosened the lowermost one from the wall, and handed it to him. Each time the cycle was repeated, the boys edged a few feet closer to their goal.
Finally they reached the top and dragged themselves onto a level stretch of ground. “Whew!” Joe gasped. “I was beginning to think this hill was higher than Everest.”
The Hardys rested for a moment to regain their strength. Several minutes had passed when suddenly they were startled to see the shadows of two men fall across the ground from behind.
“Oh, oh!” Frank muttered. “We have company!”
Turning around, the youths saw two Indians standing just a few feet away.
“You come!” one of them demanded.
“Pronto! Pronto!”
He made a menacing gesture with his rifle.
“Some of Vincenzo's men must've spotted us climbing the wall,” Frank said to his brother.
“And planned this little reception for us,” Joe added. “It looks as if they mean business.”
The Indian repeated his order, then forced the boys to march in front of him. They slowly made their way down a steep, treacherous slope on the opposite side of the mountain. When they reached the bottom, the Indians took the captives back to their leader's hideout.
The Hardys were prodded into the cave and led directly to the chamber which served as a prisoners' cell.
“Chet and Tico are in there!” Joe exclaimed as one of the Indians unlocked the door of metal bars.
Frank and his brother were shoved inside and the door slammed behind them. Two Indians posted themselves outside as guards. Despite the boys' predicament, they were overjoyed by the reunion.
“Sorry I messed up your plans, fellows,” Chet said apologetically. “But I didn't think a small campfire would raise much smoke.”
“It's too late to think about it now,” Frank replied.
“What happened to you?” Joe asked Tico. “How were you captured?”
“I had almost made it to Montaraz,” the Mexican youth explained, “when I came upon two men camped in the desert. They took me prisoner. One of them brought me back here after contacting Pavura on a small radio.”
“You ran across a couple of men in Vincenzo's communication chain,” Frank said. The Hardys then told the others about their own adventure.
“Juan, Marcheta's son, is being held prisoner here,” Chet announced. “And also six men from the village of Montaraz.”
“And one of them is Señor Santos,” Tico added.
“That's what we figured,” Joe said. “We saw them being taken from the cave.”
“Did they say anything about what Vincenzo and his workers are up to?” Frank queried.
“They know only that they are made to work with the Indians on a small railroad,” Tico answered.
“Why aren't you two forced to go along?” Joe asked curiously.
Tico grinned. “I overheard one of the guards say that Vincenzo thinks we are cleverer than the others,” he said. “He does not feel it is worth the extra guards it would take to watch us.”
“I'd say Vincenzo is a good judge of character,” Chet muttered proudly.
Later, the Indian workers began to swarm into the cave. Then Juan Marcheta and the six prisoners from Montaraz were returned to the cell. Tico introduced them to the Hardys.
Juan, a lean, dark-haired boy, told the young detectives how he had been kidnapped by Vincenzo in order to stop his father from cooperating with the authorities.
“Your father is in hiding,” Frank told him. “I'm sorry I can't tell you where he is, but he's safe.”
Santos, a tall, pleasant-looking man with a thick mustache, anxiously asked the Hardys if they had any news of his wife.
“We saw her just two days ago,” Joe said. “She's well.”
“Ah! That is goodl” he replied with a sigh of relief.
“Why did Vincenzo take you prisoner?” Frank asked him.
Santos said he had accidentally stumbled upon the gang leader's hideout while on a hunting trip. When he returned to Montaraz, he told some of his friends about his discovery.
“Upon leaving the
cantina
that night,” the Mexican continued, “I was struck on the head and knocked out. I was brought here.” He pointed to the other five men. “My
amigos
came to look for me and were also captured.”
Joe remarked, “Obviously Vincenzo wanted to keep you from telling anyone about his hideout.”
“And he put the strange symbol on the doors of your houses to terrorize the other villagers,” Frank surmised. “It was meant to discourage them from getting curious.”
An Indian appeared and handed each of the prisoners a plate of dried maize. When they had finished eating, the weary captives fell asleep.
They were awakened the next morning by the sound of the Indian workers as they left the cave. Several guards came and escorted Santos and the other five men from the cell.
The Hardys' thoughts turned to the possibility of escape. With Tico acting as their interpreter, they made an attempt to cajole their two guards into releasing them.
Joe creased his brow. “We're not going to get anywhere with those guys,” he said.
At that instant two men entered the cave and approached the boys' cell. One of them was a tall, angular man with thinning black hair. His close-set eyes and sharp features gave his face an expression of evil. The Hardys recognized him as the Mexican they had encountered in Bayport.
“It's Cardillo!” Joe declared.
“You mean, Vincenzo!” his brother retorted.
The gangleader's companion, a short, wiry Mexican, stepped forward. “You are in the presence of Pavura!” he exclaimed. “You do not speak unless he bids you to do so!”
“Don't give us that Pavura stuff!” Joe snapped. “We know his real name!”
Vincenzo glared at the boys. “You think you are clever,” he snarled. “But what you have learned will not do you any good.”
“I wouldn't count on that,” Frank retorted.
“I have no time for idle talk,” Vincenzo growled. He stepped closer to the cell door. “You will tell me the whereabouts of Mr. Hardy and Senor Marchetal”
“They went fishing in Tampico,” Chet interrupted with a laugh.
“You will advise your fat
amigo
to be quietl” shouted Vincenzo's companion.
“I order you to answer my questions!” the leader barked impatiently. “Does your father know you are here in Baja?”
“You'll have to figure that out for yourself!” Frank replied.
“You force me to take stronger measures,” Vincenzo announced. “Perhaps the fiery brand of Pavura will loosen your tongues!”
The gangleader signaled the two guards, who immediately prepared a small pit of hot coals. Into it, one of the Indians thrust what appeared to be a branding iron. Minutes later he withdrew it from the pit. On the end of the iron, glowing white hot, was the mysterious symbol.
“Now!” Vincenzo cried. “Which one of you would like to be the first to know the terror of Pavura?”
CHAPTER XVII
A Hot Melee
“You won't get away with this!” Joe shouted.
“Oh, no?” Vincenzo snarled. “And since you are so quick to speak, I think you should have the honor of being first.”
Joe was led out of the cell and his hands were tied behind his back.
“He's not blufEng!” Chet cried in a quavering voice.
The gangleader signaled the Indian holding the branding iron, who then walked slowly toward Joe.
“Stop!” Frank demanded angrily.
Suddenly, in a lightning move, Joe darted forward. Head low, he smashed into the midriff of the Indian, who jackknifed onto Joe's shoulder. Then, snapping to an upright position, he flung the man to the floor.
“Grab the others!” Frank shouted to his companions.
The guards had neglected to relock the cell door. Flinging it open, the boys sprang into action. Frank caught the second guard squarely on the chin and knocked him unconscious, then he quickly untied his brother's hands.
A wild melee followed. Vincenzo lashed out and sent Tico sprawling to the ground.
“Socorro! Socorro!—
Help! Help!” screamed the gangleader as he started to flee from the cave.
Frank gave chase and downed Vincenzo with a flying tackle. They rolled across the ground, locked in a fierce struggle.
Chet, who had selected Vincenzo's companion as his opponent, had pulled the Mexican's sombrero down over his eyes. The stocky man ran around the cave frantically trying to pull up the hat.
“I hear men shouting outside! They're coming to help Vincenzo!” Tico exclaimed.
Several Indians appeared in the cave entrance. Joe grabbed one of the small barrels marked MUESTRA, and hurled it at them. The barrel smashed against the rocky wall above their heads and drenched the men with crude oil.
“Nice going!” Chet yelled.
Joe picked up another barrel and threw it onto the pit of hot coals. It shattered, throwing up a huge orange ball of flame and thick smoke.
“Aheee!”
screamed an Indian in terror as he saw the fire.
Frank pulled Vincenzo to his feet and flung him into the path of two Indians about to attack. The men crashed to the ground in a tangled mass of arms and legs.
Meanwhile, Joe threw another barrel into the pit. The fire and smoke became more intense.
“Salga! Salga!
—Get out! Get out!” Vincenzo shouted to his men.
Choking from the smoke, the Indians followed their leader out of the cave. Chet's opponent finally managed to pull his sombrero free and raced out after the others.
The boys threw themselves down and placed their faces close to the ground where there was a shallow layer of clear air. When the fire and smoke subsided, they got to their feet.
“Come out! There is no escape!” they heard Vincenzo shout from outside the cave.
“Isn't there anything we can do?” Chet asked nervously.
“Vincenzo and his men have us cornered,” Frank admitted. He glanced around. “And there's no way out of this place except by the entrance.”
“Come out at once!” the gangleader screamed. “Or I shall send my men in after youl”
With no alternative but to obey, the boys walked out of the cave. As they emerged, the captives saw that Vincenzo was in a mad rage.

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