It was arranged that the Hardys make the Marcheta home their headquarters while in Mexico, and that for the time being Frank and Joe remain for a visit with Juan. Mr. Hardy explained that he himself wished to run down certain clues that would take him away on a short flying trip. This would not last more than two or three days at the most, however.
"Come," said Juan to the Hardy boys, "you must wash and change after your journey. Then I will show you about the grounds."
Senor Marcheta was evidently wealthy, for the big house was luxuriously furnished. The room to which Frank and Joe were assigned was one of the finest they had ever seen. Juan let them use cool linen suits from his own substantial wardrobe until the Hardys should be able to purchase new clothes of their own. As all the boys were almost of a size, there was no trouble about the fit. Juan was plainly delighted that his new acquaintances were to remain for a visit and left nothing undone to add to their comfort.
Mr. Hardy remained at the Marcheta home that night, but left early the following morning.
The boys might have felt disappointed in being left behind, had not the warm hospitality of the Marchetas done much to make them forget the adventures they might be missing.
Besides, they planned to do a little detective work on their own account.
A few hours after their father's departure Frank and Joe began to explore the grounds, delighting in the well-kept garden with its plants and flowers that were so strange to Northern eyes. At the back of the house they came upon a small doorway, partly hidden by vines and creepers. Here they made an astonishing discovery.
In the woodwork of the door was branded a familiar symbol-the letter P in a fire of blazing fagots!
The Hardy boys were utterly astounded. They could scarcely believe their eyes as they gazed at that sinister mark.
"Why, it's the same one!" gasped Joe. "The same mark we saw on the door of Vincenzo's room in Bayport."
"It can't be!"
They went closer and examined the peculiar symbol. In every detail it was identical with the branded sign they had seen before.
"Perhaps it's been here for a long time," Frank suggested. "Run and find Juan. We'll ask him."
When Joe brought the Mexican lad to the scene a few minutes later, the latter was quite as surprised as were the Hardy boys.
"I have never seen it before," he said. "What does it mean?"
"I'm sure it means that Pedro Vincenzo has been here," said Frank, without offering any further explanation. "Do you think the mark might have been placed here while you were away?"
"It is the door of the servants' entrance. Rafael will know."
Rafael, the domestic who had met them at the gate the previous day, was promptly summoned. When he saw the symbol, his eyes grew round with amazement. He spoke rapidly to Juan in his own language.
"He says the mark was not there last night," Juan interpreted.
Frank and Joe did not want to alarm the Marchetas unduly, so they said nothing more about Pedro Vincenzo and his possible connection with the strange figure on the door.
"May have been somebody playing a practical joke," remarked Frank.
"It may be a sign to ward off evil spirits," Juan suggested doubtfully. "Perhaps I should tell my father."
The Hardy boys dissuaded him from this course, however. They managed to distract Juan's attention to some other topic. Later, however, they discussed the matter alone and agreed that the mark could have but one meaning. Either Pedro Vincenzo or some member of a possible gang of his had been on the grounds of the Marcheta home within the past twelve hours.
"It may not have been Pedro," Frank pointed out. "The mark may be the symbol of a band. Just the same, it means that we'll have to keep our eyes open."
"Perhaps one of the servants is in league "with him."
"That's what we'll have to find out. We'll keep a watch on the place tonight.''
"Perhaps we ought to tell Senior Marcheta after all," Joe suggested.
Frank thought, however, that it might only cause their kindly host unnecessary alarm.
Then, too, if any servants should be involved, he would be sure to know of any action that the Hardys might take.
"If Pedro Vincenzo has been here and there is any chance that he will be back, we want to take him by surprise if we can," Frank said.
"After dark tonight we'll go out quietly and stand guard."
Long after the Marcheta family retired that night two shadowy figures stole silently down the great staircase of the hacienda. Frank and Joe made not the slightest sound as they let themselves carefully out the front door into the velvety darkness.
"You watch the main gate," Frank whispered to his brother. "I'll keep an eye on the servants' entrance."
Joe disappeared into the gloom of the garden and made his way toward the gate.
Frank flitted around the side of the house like a ghost, stole through the garden, and worked his way through the grounds until he came in sight of the door where they had found the strange and sinister mark. Behind a heavy clump of bushes he halted, and sat down to watch.
Long minutes passed. Beyond the wall Frank could hear the faint noises of the city. But the garden itself was wrapped in silence. The heavy perfume of flowers pervaded the darkness.
At length he heard a rustle among the trees. Across a patch of moonlight there stole a dark figure. Frank's heart beat rapidly with excitement as he saw that the intruder was moving quickly toward the door.
It might be only one of the servants returning late, he reflected. However, there was something so stealthy in the man's demeanor that Frank quickly discarded that notion. The man was enveloped in a dark cloak and wore a huge, broad-brimmed hat that hid his face from view.
Furtively the intruder glided up toward the door. He turned, looked from side to side, and groped beneath his cloak. The moonlight shone full upon his face for a moment.
Frank stifled an involuntary cry.
It was Pedro Vincenzo!
A second later the face vanished as the man crouched down in front of the door. Frank heard the rasp of a key in the lock.
The boy got cautiously to his feet. One of the bushes rustled, and he saw Vincenzo wheel about with a muttered exclamation and stare intently in the lad's direction.
Frank remained perfectly still. Apparently the man did not see him concealed by the shadows at the side of the house. Vincenzo turned again and once more tried the key in the lock.
Silently Frank moved out from behind the bush and crept slowly closer. When he was within a few feet of the intruder he suddenly rushed and leaped upon Vincenzo before the man realized what was happening. There was a frightened yell as the boy bore him to the ground. The intruder struggled furiously, trying to break free of Frank's grasp. He was a big man and very strong, but young Hardy had the advantage of taking him by surprise. He locked both arms tightly around Vincenzo's neck and hung on.
"Joe!" he shouted. "Come quick, Joe! I have him!"
Vincenzo struggled madly, trying to shake Frank lose as the two wrestled back and forth on the gravel walk. Frank heard an answering cry from Joe, and shouts of alarm from within the house.
Then suddenly a dark figure plunged swiftly out from the bushes.
Frank had one glimpse of his attacker, but he was powerless to save himself. An arm rose and fell. A heavy object descended sharply on Frank's head. He felt himself tumbling limply to the ground. Then he knew no more.
Pedro Vincenzo and the other man rushed off into the darkness.
CHAPTER X
Headquarters
Joe, who came running through the garden a few moments later, found his brother lying unconscious in front of the servants' entrance.
"Frank!" he cried wildly, kneeling down beside the prostrate figure. "Frank! You are hurt!"
A door crashed open nearby. Then Senor Marcheta came running out, clad in pajamas and a dressing gown.
"What is it?" he cried in alarm. "What has happened?"
Frank stirred and opened his eyes.
"Pedro!" he whispered. "Don't let him get away. He came to the door–I tackled him–someone knocked me out–"
"Pedro?" shouted Senor Marcheta.
In a moment he was summoning the servants, organizing a general search of the grounds.
Frank was carried into the house where Juan and Dolores helped Joe attend to his injuries. He had been struck a violent blow on the head, which had stunned him for a while. Beyond that, he was not seriously hurt, fortunately.
Lights were flashing in the garden as Marcheta and his servants made a thorough search for the intruders. When Senor Marcheta tramped into the house ten minutes later, he admitted that the miscreants had made good their escape.
"You are sure it was Pedro Pancho?" he asked Frank. "He dared to come here?"
"It was Pedro Vincenzo. I saw his face. Pedro Vincenzo and Pedro Pancho are one and the same, I think. He was trying to unlock the door."
"But how does it happen that you were there?" demanded Juan in bewilderment.
Frank and Joe then explained how they had decided to keep watch on the house after they saw the strange sign on the door. The Marchetas were greatly disturbed.
"I shall send word to the police of the city tomorrow," declared Senor Marcheta. "If Pedro Pancho is in the neighborhood he will be arrested."
"I'm afraid the police will have a hard time catching him now," Frank said. "He knows that I recognized him. He won't dare stay around here."
Frank's assumption was evidently correct. Although Senor Marcheta used his influence with the police department the following day, and the whole city was searched, the officials could find no trace of their man.
The affair proved, however, that Pedro Pancho, alias Vincenzo, was actually in Mexico. Why he had attempted to enter the Marcheta home was explained in various ways. He might have been making a second attempt to abduct Juan. He might have intended to harm the Hardy boys. Or he might have planned to avenge himself upon the Marcheta family by setting fire to the house. One thing, however, was certain. There would be danger as long as the man remained at large.
''I must not allow you out of my sight from now on," Senor Marcheta said gravely to Juan and the Hardy boys. "I have asked the police to guard my home at night. I have no further fear of danger from that source. But I think it would be best if we could go away for a little journey."
"That's a good idea!" declared Juan enthusiastically. "It will be dull for them if we stay at home. Perhaps there is some part of the country you would like to see?" he queried, turning to the Hardy boys.
Frank took from his pocket the elaborately engraved certificate of Bio Oil stock that Pedro Vincenzo had given the landlady in payment for his board bill. It had a highly colored picture of an oil well, together with a paragraph purporting to give the location of the Bio property.
"This is a company that we're–we're interested in to some extent," he said. "We'd like to see their property. Is it far from here?"
Senor Marcheta examined the fake security closely.
"I have never heard of the Bio Oil Company," he said. "According to this certificate, their property must be located about two days' journey from here. Ah, yes, the name of the village is written here. Would you care to go there?"
The Hardy boys said they would be glad to make the trip. In the back of their minds lay the hope that at the Bio Oil Company property they might pick up some information about Vincenzo and Elmer Tremmer.
"Then," declared Senor Marcheta, "we shall set out early tomorrow morning. Perhaps your father will be back by that time."
Fenton Hardy had not returned by the following day, however. Instead, there came a letter in his handwriting, and mailed from some obscure town in the mountains, stating that his return would be delayed for at least a week. The boys were curious as to the reason for his being held up. It occurred to Frank that the letter might be a hoax. A close inspection of the handwriting, however, persuaded them that the missive was indeed from Fenton Hardy.
"In that case," said Juan, "there is no need to wait. We can leave without delay."
Frank and Joe could not help but think, as they set off on their journey, mounted on horses from Senor Marcheta's stables, that their chums back in Bayport would have been envious if they could have seen them. Clad in the costume of the country, with wide-brimmed sombreros to shade their eyes from the sun, they jogged along picturesque country roads through subtropical hills and valleys riotous with vegetation, stopping here and there at quaint little inns along the way. The boys had an opportunity of seeing the real beauty of Mexico, and many of their former ideas of the country were changed completely.
"I always had a notion it was just a big, sunburnt desert!" said Joe. "Nothing but cactus plants and bandits." Juan laughed.
"Mexico has much beauty, "he said. ''There are mountains, and canons, and jungles, and cities, and towns. The Tamasopa Canon is one of the most beautiful places in the world. It is on the way from Tampico to San Luis Potosi. You cannot find such color anywhere else on earth. Millions of flowers grow there-cape jasmine, wild gardenias and orchids. Then there are the butterflies and the tropical birds. But of course we have deserts, too.
"We are going toward the desert called the Bolson de Mapimi. It was at one time a great lake. The bones of mastodons and other animals that lived millions of years ago have been found there. That is why the people of Coahuila call the place the Llano de los Gigantes, the desert of giants."
Then Juan broke into a merry laugh.
"I sound like a school teacher," he said. "Yet you shall see for yourselves. That is much better than to be told."
On the second day of their journey the boys began to leave the fertile country behind. Juan told them that they were drawing closer to the desert. Senor Marcheta had made inquiries at the inn where they had spent the night, and informed Frank and Joe that they must not be disappointed if they found no oil wells in the neighborhood to which they were going.
"This is not oil country," he said. "No one to whom I have spoken has heard of this Rio company you mention.''
"We won't be surprised to learn that the Bio outfit hasn't any oil wells," Frank admitted.
"When the travelers finally reached the village that had been indicated on the oil certificate, they learned that their suspicions had been correct. An innkeeper with whom Senor Marcheta conferred said that no oil had ever been found within many miles of the place, and that no such company as the Bio Oil Company had ever been heard of in the vicinity.
The innkeeper, a stout, swarthy fellow with a good-natured face, served the group a meal. Thereupon he went over and whispered confidentially to Senor Marcheta. Their conversation lasted for some time. "When the man returned to the kitchen Senor Marcheta said:
"Perhaps there may be something to this Rio company after all. The man tells me that there are rumors in town about a place called 'Headquarters,' run by some shady characters who come here occasionally. It is out in the desert-an oasis, the innkeeper says."
"We're not going to turn back now," Juan declared. "What do you say, Frank and Joel Shall we strike on to this oasis, or 'Headquarters,' as they call it?"
The Hardy boys needed no urging. Even if Pedro Vincenzo had not taken flight to this part of the country, they were determined to see the desert at all costs. Senor Marcheta, smiling, agreed to continue the journey the following morning.
Eager with anticipation the Hardy boys had their first experience of the desert the next day. For miles and miles, stretching out to the distent horizon, lay wastes of golden sand in smooth hillocks and slopes blown up by the wind. As the horses jogged out into the arid wastes, clumps of bright blossomed cacti and occasional buttes of rock rising sharply out of the desert arrested the attention of the boys.
"Do people actually live out here?" Frank inquired of Senor Marcheta.
"It is not all desert, of course," replied his host. "There are the oases, and sometimes large lakes, where wandering bands of Indians stop." He glanced at his compass. "This oasis to which we are going is a fertile place. Up in Chihuahua this desert was known as the Llano de los Cristianos, because in the early days of the Jesuit padres many converts were driven out of the mountains by those who refused to be converted. They were literally forced into the desert, and wandered from place to place."
"Wouldn't they die of thirst?" asked Joe.
Juan laughed.
"There is plenty of water on the desert," he said.
Joe stared at him unbelievingly.
"Cactus," explained Juan. "Every species of cactus has its water reservoir. Some have them below the ground, others above. The barrel cactus has saved hundreds of desert travelers from dying of thirst."
As the sun rose higher in the clear sky the heat became more intense. Frank and Joe were not able to keep up with their more experienced companions, and bit by bit lagged behind.
"It's all a grand experience, Frank," said Joe. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything. Just the same, I don't believe we're going to find any trace of Pedro Vincenzo."
"We'll have something to tell the folks back home at any rate. Boy! It's warmer out here than I bargained for. I'm getting thirsty."
"Don't let that worry you," Joe replied, swinging himself out of the saddle. "There's a fine big cactus just a few yards away. I'm glad Juan told us about them.''
He strode over to the large spiked plant that rose from the sands and took a tiny folding cup from his pocket. He broke open the cactus with his knife and dipped into the nectar.
"Come and try it," he invited, draining the contents of the cup.
"What does it taste like?"
Joe made a grimace.
"Sort of bitter and sort of sweet," he said. "It isn't bad, though."
Frank climbed out of the saddle.
"The desert beats the city all hollow," he remarked. "You don't find drinking fountains every five yards apart in town."
Joe handed his brother the cup and motioned toward the cactus plant.
"Help yourself to a nice clear drink."
Frank was just dipping into it when they heard a thunder of hoofs. The boys looked up to see Juan riding swiftly toward them. He was shouting and gesticulating wildly.
"I wonder what's the matter!" exclaimed Frank, the cup raised halfway to his lips.
In another moment Juan rode up in a cloud of sand, flung himself out of the saddle, and ran toward them.
"Don't drink it! Don't drink it!" he cried, and dashed the cup out of Frank's hand.
"Why?" demanded Frank.
"I forgot to tell you. Some varieties of cactus contain deadly poison." Juan looked at the plant. "And this is one of them!" he declared.
Joe uttered a gasp of horror.
"I just drank some!" he gasped.
CHAPTER XI
The Indian
The Hardy boys were white with terror. Juan wrung his hands.
"It's all my fault," he cried. "I should have warned you. How much did you drink?" he demanded.
"A cupful."
Senior Marcheta was riding toward them and Juan summoned him to hurry.
"We'll have to get you back to the town right away," the Mexican boy snapped. "Perhaps, if we get there in time, we may be able to find medicine to counteract the poison."
"I'm beginning to feel sick already," said Joe dolefully.
Senor Marcheta's horse thundered up to the boys.
"What's the matter?" demanded Juan's father in alarm.
Then, when he saw the broken cactus plant, his face became serious, and he swung himself out of the saddle.
"He drank from a poison cactus," said Juan.
Senor Marcheta strode quickly over to the plant and examined it. Finally he turned aside with a sigh of relief.
"That was a narrow escape," he said to the Hardy boys. "This species is very like a poison cactus, but fortunately it isn't. Another variety–"
"And harmless?" asked Joe.
"Quite harmless," he replied, greatly to their comfort. "After this, do not drink from a cactus unless you ask me about it first. Some of them contain poison, while others hold a drug that would put you to sleep in a few minutes. It's very fortunate that you happened to drink from a harmless one."
Juan mopped the sweat from his brow. He had been trembling with fear.
"That gave me a bad scare," he admitted.
''How about me?'' asked Joe with a grin. ''I thought I was going to drop dead on the spot."
"A miss is as good as a mile," said Frank, climbing back on his horse. "Let's get going. That was a lesson we'll remember for a while."
The four resumed their journey across the great desert, interested in the bright-hued lizards that lay sunning themselves lazily in the sand. Occasionally a great horned toad would hop across their path.
They finally came to a butte of reddish rock, deeply seamed and worn away by the impact of sand blown against it in the course of years. As they were riding around it Senor Marcheta's horse suddenly lurched, then stumbled and fell. The Mexican was a good horseman, and managed to slip one foot out of the stirrup and leap to the ground just as the animal went sprawling. The horse had stepped into a hole that had been hidden from view by a hillock of sand. When the rest of the party dismounted and went over to the steed, they saw that its leg was oddly twisted.
"Broken," said Senor Marcheta, after several vain attempts to help the horse to its feet.
Juan whistled ruefully.
"I guess that puts an end to the trip," he said.
Senor Marcheta did not answer. He was examining the animal's leg. After a while he stood up and drew a revolver from his belt. He patted the horse's head gently.
"Good-bye, old fellow," he said. "I can't leave you to die of thirst in the desert." Then, turning about, he said to the boys, "Look the other way!"
After they had done so a shot rang out. When the boys looked around again the horse was lying motionless in the sand.
"We cannot go ahead, that is certain," said Juan. "You'll have to ride with me, Father."
"It is too bad, especially when we have come go far," said Senor Marcheta reluctantly. Then he shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed out across the desert. "Someone is coming," he remarked.
Frank and Joe could see no one. They could distinguish nothing but rolling sand dunes extending like great waves far into the distance. However, a moment later a figure began to rise above the crest of one of the dunes. First they saw his head, then his shoulders, then the head of a horse. Finally animal and rider came over the top of the dune. The man reined in his steed, stood up in the stirrups, and gazed at the travelers.
He was a magnificent figure in the sunlight; a tall, broad-shouldered Indian with coppery skin, riding a wiry little pony. A moment later, satisfied that Senor Marcheta's party were friendly, he dug his heels into the pony's flanks and rode toward them.
"A full-blooded Yaqui Indian," explained Juan as the stranger approached. "Perhaps he'll be able to help us."
The Yaqui raised his arm in greeting as he came up. Senor Marcheta uttered a cry of recognition.
"Why, I know this man!" he exclaimed. "He once worked for me."
It was evident that the Yaqui also recognized Senior Marcheta. They exchanged a few friendly words in Spanish. Frank and Joe were greatly interested in the newcomer. They had never seen a finer specimen of manhood. He was powerfully built, lean and athletic, with the clear eyes and untroubled face of one who lives close to nature.
Senor Marcheta and the Indian talked for some time. Finally Juan's father turned to the boys.
"The Yaqui has offered to take one of us back to town with him for another pony. It will be too heavy a load for his horse if I ride with him."
"I'll go," said Frank readily.
"Are you sure you won't mind?"
"Not a bit of it. But do you think I could find my way back again?"
"The Yaqui will come back with you. He couldn't get lost in the desert if he tried. He has promised to guide us when he returns. In fact, he tells me that the oasis known as the 'Headquarters' isn't very far from here."
The Indian rose in his stirrups and extended his arm toward the northeast, where a distant line of dunes stretched out before them.
''Over there,'' he said. ''Not far. When the sun sets you will be close."
Arrangements were quickly made for the exchange of horses. Senor Marcheta took Frank's pony while the elder Hardy boy climbed up into the saddle behind the Yaqui. A few moments later the two parties separated, prank and the Indian toward the town, Joe and the Marchetas heading on into the desert.
The sun was just sinking toward the western horizon in a blaze of glowing light, when Juan suddenly reined in his pony.
"We must be careful now," he said. "I think I see a camp against the sky. Yes–there are trees–and tents."
"Your young eyes are better than mine," said Senor Marcheta, coming to a stop. "I can see nothing."
They had halted at the top of a low butte. Great sunbaked leagues of desert stretched illimitably before them. Joe followed the direction of Juan's gaze, and in the distance could barely distinguish a few trees silhouetted against the sky.
"It is the oasis," said Juan. "I think we had better stay here until it becomes dark."
They dismounted, and ate a hearty meal from the provisions they had taken with them from the inn. Beneath the rim of the butte they knew they were secure from observation by anyone in the distant camp. The sky flamed with glorious colors as the sun slowly sank beyond the horizon. Darkness came swiftly, bringing a welcome coolness after the heat of the day.
"We shall ride on now," decided Senor Marcheta finally.
The sky blazed with stars. The pink glow of a campfire indicated the location of the oasis as the party rode ahead. Fortunately the successive sand dunes afforded plenty of cover so that they were able to approach within half a mile of the place without fear of being observed. Then, in a little hollow out of sight of the camp, they hobbled their horses.
"Let's creep up closer," suggested Juan. "Maybe we can learn who is camping there."
Senor Marcheta was dubious.
"We may learn nothing, and if we are seen we may get a bullet or two for our curiosity," he said.
"Perhaps Pedro is here. We can't give up now, after having come so far."
Senor Marcheta was fully alive to the dangers of.stealing up to spy on a desert camp in the dead of night, but Juan and Joe finally persuaded him to do so.
"For a little while, then," he agreed. "But you must not go too close. They have sharp ears, these people of the desert."
The three made their way to the top of the dune. Now they could see the campfire clearly. The light shone on a scattered group of tents and on the calm waters of the oasis, in which the clear stars were reflected as if in a mirror.
Figures moved to and fro in the ruddy firelight. Soft music came from a guitar.
Bit by bit Joe and his companions crept over the crest and moved silently down the slope in the direction of the oasis. The Hardy boy's heart was pounding with excitement. The three made scarcely a sound in the soft, yielding sand a? they crept closer to the camp. The night was very still. The music of the guitar thrummed dreamily. They heard a burst of laughter, and a man approached the fire. He threw on fresh fuel so that the flames leaped higher.