The Mark on the Door (9 page)

“I think you have enough siesta, senor,” the man snapped sarcastically. “We go now.” He pulled off the blanket to reveal a thin, gray-haired bespectacled man, tied hand and foot.

Elmer Tremmer!
The Hardys gasped at sight of the pathetic figure, whom they recognized from a photograph in their father's dossier.

“Why did you tie me up?” Tremmer complained timidly. “I wasn't trying to run away!”

The man with the sombrero bent down and untied him. “I take no chances. Pavura would not like it if we return without you.” He then pulled his prisoner to his feet.

According to plan, Joe hurried off to rejoin Chet. Frank and Tico watched as their quarry broke camp and headed in a direction that would take them deeper into the mountains.

“We'll give them a head start,” Frank remarked.

Tico proved to be an excellent tracker. He quickly picked up the trail and followed it with ease. Frank marked their course by forming directional arrows on the ground with stones and twigs.

It was just about midday when Tico suddenly came to a halt. “Look!” he said in a low voice. “There are the men!”

Just ahead Frank saw their quarry. The men were seated on the ground. One Indian was distributing dried maize among them.

“They've stopped to eat,” Frank said. “We'd better do the same, Tico.”

The boys pulled several cans of rations from their pockets and ate quickly, then waited until the men set off again. It was almost dark before Frank and Tico had their quarry in sight once more.

The men were assembled in a clearing surrounded by steep, rugged hills. At the base of one hill was a large boulder which several Indians shoved aside. Behind it was the entrance to a cave. The men entered, pushing Tremmer ahead of them. Several Indians remained outside to replace the boulder and stand guard.

“This is their hideout!” Frank said excitedly. “Let's backtrack and meet Joe and Chet before they reach this spot. The burros are likely to make noise and give us away.”

Returning along the trail, the two boys traveled nearly a mile before they met the others.

“Leaping lizards!” Joe exclaimed as his brother told where the trail had led. “You say they went into a cave?”

“That's right,” Frank answered. “Let's recon noiter the area in the morning. Maybe we can find out what they're up to.”

The boys made camp close by and ate supper. All slept soundly. Shortly before dawn, Frank awakened and aroused the others.

“We'll go back to the place where Tico and I spotted the cave,” he said. “It'll be better if we go before daylight. Also, one of us will have to stay here and guard the camp and burros.”

“I guess I'm elected again,” Chet grumbled.

Tico observed his expression of disappointment. “I shall stay here,” he announced with a smile.

The Hardys started out with Chet along the marked trail. When they arrived at their destination, they selected a hiding place from where they could view the cave. Within the hour the sun began to appear above the crest of the mountains.

“There are the Indian guards,” Frank whispered as light spilled into the clearing.

“They're all asleep,” Joe observed.

“Those guys don't seem to be taking their jobs seriously,” Chet added.

“Obviously they don't expect outsiders to be roaming around these mountains,” Frank said.

Finally the guards began to awaken. They scrambled to their feet and rolled aside the boulder covering the cave entrance. Soon, about forty Indians emerged and hurried off as if on an urgent mission.

“Look at all those men,” Joe hissed. “Where could they be headed?”

The boys watched as the guards went into the cave and, seconds later, reappeared with Tremmer. They marched off after the others, leaving only one man behind. The Indian found a shady spot at the edge of the clearing and promptly went to sleep again.

“Now's our chance to take a look inside,” Joe whispered.

The boys crept from their hiding place and across the clearing. They froze in their tracks when the sleeping Indian grunted, but he did not wake up.

When they reached the cave entrance, Frank whispered, “Be careful. There might still be someone in there.”

The searchers crept cautiously through the entrance. Inside, they found a spacious cavern. Through the gloom, faintly illuminated by several nearly burned-out torches, the boys saw that the cave was empty.

Joe suddenly grasped his brother's arm. “Look! In the center of the floor ! It's the sym bol!”

They all stared in awe at a large stone altar. On it was carved a cluster of branches or faggots. And mounted on top was a stone inscribed with the letter P.

Quietly Joe climbed up the side of the altar. At the top, he saw that a deep, circular channel had been cut into the stone. Charred bits of wood indicated that the channel was used to hold a fire.

“Holy crow!” he said to himself. “I wonder if this is some kind of cult.”

Frank, meanwhile, in searching for clues, came upon a large section of damaged stone at the base of the altar. The broken fragment had been set back loosely into place. He pulled it away slightly and peered in through the opening.

“Hey, fellows!” Frank whispered. “Take a look at this.”

“Caramba!”
Chet exclaimed. “And see this, Frank.” He moved toward the far corner of the cave. In the shadows was a stack of empty wooden crates marked MACHINERY.

“These look like the same type of boxes we saw being loaded aboard the submarine in the cove,” Frank said.

Nearby were a number of small, wooden barrels with the word
muestra
painted on their sides.

“Muestra!”
Joe remarked. “That means ‘sample' in Spanish, doesn't it?”

Frank nodded, then sniffed at one of the barrels. “Smells like crude oil to me,” he muttered.

“What a discovery!” said Chet. “Come on. Let's look around some more.”

At the rear of the cave, Frank found a cavity in the wall. Its opening was covered by a door of metal bars.

“Looks like a prison cell,” said Joe.

At that moment Frank spotted a small fragment of paper on the floor. He picked it up. There was a single line of print:

“This must have been part of a page from a magazine,” he said, handing the fragment to his brother.

Joe examined it. “You might be right,” he agreed. “Too bad we don't have the rest of it.”

“I'd like to see the complete spelling of the last word which begins with draco,” Frank commented. “Something about it rings a small bell! I‘m—”

“Listen!” Chet interrupted. “I hear something!”

The boys remained perfectly quiet for a moment.

“I hear it too!” Joe said finally. “Men talking!”

The three darted toward the entrance but halted abruptly when they saw the shadows of three men on the ground outside.

“Oh, oh!” Frank whispered. “It must be the guards!”

“And they're armed,” Joe added. “It would be too risky to try and make a break for it now.”

“But we can't stay here!” Chet whispered nervously. “That crowd of Indians might come back any time now.”

Chet's fears were warranted. Soon many men could be heard approaching the cave entrance. The boys frantically searched for a place to hide.

“Quick!” Frank commanded, remembering the altar. “Follow me!” He pulled aside the broken fragment of stone at its base. “Inside! Hurry!”

The boys squeezed through the opening and into the hollow portion of the altar. A split second later the Indians poured into the cave.

“Fuego!”
one of them shouted.
“Fuego por Pavura!”

The boys were horror-stricken. The Indians were about to build a fire on top of the altar!

CHAPTER XII

“WE'LL be roasted alive!” Chet quavered.

“Quiet,” Joe warned, nudging Chet with his elbow.

Frank fully realized their desperate situation. If they left their hiding place—capture! Yet to remain—destruction!

The fire was started, and the boys waited tensely for the temperature to rise. But much to their surprise, the heat was not intolerable.

“Of course!” Frank said to himself. “The altar is made out of volcanic rock. It is radiating the heat of the fire too rapidly to get very hot itself!”

From outside came the same kind of weird chanting they had heard the previous night.

“They must be performing some kind of ceremony,” Joe whispered into his brother's ear.

Suddenly the chanting stopped.

“Pavura! Pavura!” the Indians shouted in unison.

The deep voice of a man, obviously that of their leader, addressed them in Spanish.

“What's he saying?” Chet hissed.

“I can only pick up a few words,” Frank whispered. “He thanks them for their work, and says they'll be rewarded soon.”

After the ceremony the Indians left. Their footfalls faded away. Frank was about to push the broken stone aside when he suddenly stopped at the muffled voices of two men speaking in English.

“Why am I being treated like a prisoner?” one man asked.

“You tried to run away, Senor Tremmer,” the other replied. “Perhaps you go to the authorities. I do not like that.”

“You're wrong, Vincenzo! I didn't try to run away! Didn't I come to Mexico with you of my own free will? I just went out for a walk and got lost.”

“Odd, then,” Vincenzo replied, “that my men find you more than a day's journey from here. I do not believe you. However, I will give you one more chance. But if you run away again, I shall send my men after you with orders
not
to bring you back.”

“Don't threaten me, Vincenzol”

“Ah, but I will. And do not speak my name in the presence of my men. To them I am known only as Pavura!”

Vincenzo and Pavura! One and the same! The boys quivered with excitement. And Vincenzo was the leader of the Indians, who worshiped him.

More footsteps. Then silence.

“They've gone!” Joe whispered.

The boys cautiously crawled from their hiding place, and edged toward the cave exit. Seeing no sign of the guards, they dashed across the clearing and headed back to their own camp. After eating and taking a short rest, the young detectives mulled over the situation and discussed a new plan.

“Tico, you take one of the burros and go back to Montaraz,” Frank instructed him. “Ask Senora Santos to help you get in touch with the authorities. Tell them what we've found out.”

“Si,
I will do as you say,” the Mexican youth promised. “But what do you plan to do?”

“Chet will guard the camp, while Joe and I re connoiter the area,” Frank explained. “We'd like to find out what those Indians are up to.”

After Tico departed for the village, the Hardys began a systematic search of the surrounding territory. They carefully threaded their way across the difficult, lunar-like terrain.

“When the Indians leave the cave,” Joe said, pointing off to his right, “they go in that direction.”

“Right,” Frank agreed. “But let's stay close to this ridge. The rocks will give us good cover.”

Nearly an hour had passed before the boys heard sounds of activity somewhere ahead of them.

“What's that?” Joe asked curiously.

“Sounds like men digging,” Frank replied.

The Hardys continued on slowly. Soon they came upon a startling scene. In a small clearing ahead, Indians were working busily. Some were digging with picks and shovels. Others carried heavy wooden crates.

“Looks like some kind of mining operation,” Frank said in a hushed voice.

The boys crept ahead for a closer look. They saw several Mexicans, not dressed as Indians, assembling various pieces of machinery. Nearby was a narrow-gauge railroad that stretched out of sight down an incline to the east. Resting on the track was an unusual-looking vehicle. It was an elongated wooden platform with sides that angled outwards and was set on eight small rail road-type wheels.

“What's that?” Joe blurted.

“I've never seen anything like it used in mining,” Frank whispered. “It must be ninety feet long.”

“And about six feet wide,” Joe added.

“Let's work our way around to the other side of the clearing. Be careful. We don't want to run into any of these guys.”

The boys edged their way along, studying the scene with increasing interest. Then Frank began to sniff the air. “I smell crude oil.”

“I do, too,” Joe said.

Just then the Hardys heard a man shout from somewhere behind them. “Fare—Halt!”

The boys whirled to see an Indian with a rifle standing at the top of a knoll.

“We've been spotted!” Joe gasped.

A shot rang out, and the Hardys ran. More shots. A bullet ricocheted off a rock close by.

“Head for the ridge!” Frank cried.

By now the Indians in the clearing had dropped their tools and were racing off in pursuit of the boys.

Joe stumbled and fell. Frank stopped and yanked him to his feet. “Are you all right?”

“Yes—I'm okay! Let's keep going!”

In the next instant the Hardys were startled to see several more Indians blocking their path to the ridge.

“This way!” Joe shouted as he started down a slope to the right.