After this remark he reached out his "pole" once more and caught another trout. As fast as the natives threw their fish upon the bank, just so fast did their catch disappear. In the meantime Frank was tearing off pieces of the meat, and after managing the first mouthful declared the food was not bad.
"They're coming up now," announced Joe, as the natives prepared to leave the stream.
With bated breaths the Hardys lay flat on the ground behind the rocks as the fishermen approached. In a moment there was a piercing scream from the man in the lead as he discovered there were no fish where he had thrown them. Raising his hands above his head he began to jump around and repeat what was evidently an incantation. This was taken up by the second native when in consternation he learned of the situation.
Presently the two tribesmen looked wildly about them, then dashed up the stone steps.
The Hardy boys could only guess that the superstitious natives figured some angry evil spirit had snatched away their catch.
"Too bad," said Frank with a chuckle, "to fool those poor people, but they have other food. Here, help yourself, Joe."
Barely had the natives disappeared when the boys again heard people talking, so they remained in hiding. One of the voices was familiar. The man was speaking in Spanish, and Frank was sure he had heard the tones before. He looked at his brother in amazement.
The boys peered out from behind the rocks. There, not ten yards away, was Pedro Vincenzo!
There was no mistaking the figure of the swarthy Mexican, as he stood in the bright morning sunlight, talking earnestly to a companion who was unmistakably a half-breed. This was the native who had questioned Yaqui about the Hardy boys in the squatter's cabin, the same fellow who had come to Pedro Vincenzo 's assistance and knocked Frank senseless in Senor Marcheta's garden.
Spellbound, the boys watched the man who had led them this long chase into the mountains of Chihuahua. They had found Pedro Vincenzo at last, but they were helpless. They could do nothing but remain in hiding and listen.
It was plain that Pedro was angry about something. Bat he was talking in a language that the Hardy boys did not understand. He was violently berating his companion, who listened meekly. In the course of the tirade there was one word that Frank and Joe did catch repeatedly.
The word was "Hardy." A little later they heard "Senor Hardy."
Frank saw that Vincenzo was smiling cruelly. Whatever the man was saying, it appeared to afford him great satisfaction, for he extended his hand, then closed it tightly as if he were squeezing something in his grasp.
It seemed to give great satisfaction to his companion as well, for the man slapped his knee and laughed.
"I'm very worried," Frank whispered. "Dad–"
CHAPTER XVIII
The Figure in the Firelight
The Hardy boys could not understand what Pedro Vincenzo and his satellite were saying, but they could guess. The two men were talking about Fenton Hardy, and from their actions there was no doubt but that they hoped soon to have the detective in their power, if they had not done so already.
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What did Vincenzo know? What was the reason for the glee of the two conspirators?
Frank and Joe were not enlightened further, for the two men moved on down the river bank past the rocks, and then ascended the flight of steps leading to the ledge above.
"Well," said Joe, when the pair had vanished, "there's our man. What are we going to do about it?"
"There are several things we might do," replied Frank.
"For instance?" asked Joe.
"Let's shadow him."
"Vincenzo? Now?"
"Why not?"
"It's too dangerous," Joe objected. "He's on the ripper level now, with all the natives to help him if he catches us."
"I don't care," said Frank. "He's the man who can lead us to Elmer Tremmer if he is alive, and that's our reason for being in this country. Come on."
Cautiously the boys followed the wily Mexican and his cohort. Luck was with them, for no one else appeared and the men ahead were in too much of a hurry to look back.
"Down!" suddenly commanded Frank, who was climbing the steps ahead of his brother.
Instantly the two lads huddled under an over-hanging cliff.
"Pedro stepped into a cave just above us," whispered Frank. "The other fellow went on ahead."
For fifteen minutes the Hardys waited. Then they saw the man they were after emerge from the cave and ascend once more.
"After him!" said Frank.
"No," replied Joe. "I'm going to investigate that place Vincenzo just came from. He's pleading for the camp and we don't dare follow him. I want to have a look inside that cave, anyway.''
For several minutes after entering the enclosure the boys could see nothing. As their eyes gradually became accustomed to the semidarkness, they began to look around and at first were disappointed that apparently the cave was empty.
Then suddenly Joe pointed.
"The mark!" he exclaimed. "The mark of Pedro!"
There it was. The burning fagots with the letter P in the flames scratched into the wall.
"Wonder if it means anything," commented Frank, running his hands over the surface where the symbol had been crudely sketched on. "I'd like to bet–oh!"
The boy's slender fingers had found a slight depression and in a moment were pulling at a section of the side. A good-sized stone came away, revealing a deep niche.
Frank reached in quickly, and to the surprise and delight of the boys drew forth an oblong box wrapped in a newspaper. Bushing to the cave entrance, they were amazed to find the sheet to be printed in English.
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"The–the Bayport Star," exclaimed Joe, as he noted the items more closely. "And the date-the date is the day when we started on this mystery!"
The brothers were so excited at their find, and for a few minutes so struck with a wave of homesickness as they read names and events so familiar to them, that they failed utterly to see the full significance of their discovery.
Frank was the first to recover composure and realize the importance of the matter.
"Joe, I think we've stumbled upon something valuable," he said. "Perhaps the contents of this box came from Bayport, too."
Quickly the boys opened the wooden chest which was branded with Pedro's peculiar insignia, and saw rolls and rolls of American bank bills of large denomination, held together with elastic bands. "With them was a notation in Spanish which the Hardys figured out to indicate that the money was Vincenzo's share in the sale of the fake Bio Oil Company stock.
"So the man had no money to pay his helpers!" said Joe in disgust. "That fellow is several kinds of a scoundrel."
"These bills don't belong to him by rights, I'm sure," was Frank's rejoinder. "I suggest we hide this box in another cave, and then tell the authorities about it later."
"Fine idea," agreed Joe.
Together the boys scouted around a bit, watching carefully so they would not be seen, and at last found a deep crevice which seemed to suit their purpose. Into it they pushed their valuable find, and made a clear mental note of the location.
"Score one for us," said Joe. "Now to escape from this place and get some help."
"We can't go any farther up the steps. It's too risky,'' Frank said. '' I think we had better work our way along the river bank until we're a good distance from the camp. Then we may be able to find our way to the main trail."
As this seemed to be the most feasible plan, the brothers emerged from their hiding place and went down the stone stairway. Then they headed for the shelter of some rocks farther down the shore. They had gone no more than a few steps, however, before Joe uttered a yell of alarm and leaped wildly to one side.
A harsh warning rattle sounded. Right in the boy's path a huge snake was coiled in the sunlight. It struck viciously, uncoiling itself to its full length in the twinkling of an eye.
Fortunately Joe had caught sight of the rattler just in time, and sprang out of reach as the wicked head flashed past his foot.
Frank snatched up a heavy rock and hurled it at the snake. The reptile gathered itself into a coil again, hissing evilly. The lad's aim was bad, and the rock clattered harmlessly to one side. Then Joe hurled a stone, striking the creature in the back. Thereupon the rattler lashed out once more, but in a moment went writhing swiftly toward the rocks.
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This had taken only a few seconds, but Joe's shout of alarm and the subsequent noise on the rocks had not gone unheard. From the ledge above came a surprised yell. When the boys looked up they saw a native standing at the top of the stone steps.
''Run!'' exclaimed Frank. The Hardys went racing down the river bank. Behind them the half-breed was already raising the alarm, and when Frank glanced back over his shoulder he saw half a dozen of the outcast Indians leaping down the steps in pursuit.
Frank and Joe bolted around an outcropping of rock. To their dismay, they found that the river bank became very narrow at this point, sloping directly toward the water in a steep declivity from the ledge above. They went scrambling up the slope, grabbing at bits of rock and tiny bushes to aid them. In their hearts they knew it was useless. They could never hope to outdistance the fleet-footed natives.
The man who had first seen them was now close behind. Yelling with triumph, he began to ascend the slope in pursuit. At the same time the boys could see other Indians running along the ledge above to cut off any way of escape at the top of the bank.
"No chance," said Joe bitterly. "They've caught us."
With natives close at their heels and others waiting for them at the head of the slope, the boys found escape impossible. Wearily they pulled themselves up to the ledge, where they were instantly seized by three dark-skinned Indians, who bound the arms of the unfortunates behind their backs.
There was a great deal of chattering and loud talking. The man who had discovered their escape came up grinning with pride, evidently thinking very well of himself.
"If it hadn't been for that rattlesnake," muttered Joe, "we might have got away."
They were marched back to the camp in disgrace. Frank was hoping that Pedro Vincenzo would make an appearance, but neither he nor his companion were anywhere to be seen, although all the natives and some of the bandits gathered around to learn the cause of the disturbance.
One of the bandits came up and consulted briefly with the natives. Then he gave a curt order and the prisoners were hustled away.
This time they were not taken back up the trail to the cave in the face of the cliff. They were brought to a niche on the lower level, much nearer the camp. It was a dismal little hole like a dungeon. As soon as the boys had been thrust roughly through the entrance, a native armed with a revolver took up his position a few yards from the opening and squatted down in the sun.
The boys were now in a worse plight than ever; under close guard, with no further chance of escape, their hands bound so tightly that they had little freedom of movement. After an hour or so their arms were aching. Frank called out to the guard.
"You don't need to keep us tied up. Cut the ropes. We won't get away."
The man stared at them blankly. As well as they could the boys tried to make him understand, yet the fellow was either stupid or he had no intention of cutting their bonds, for he simply turned his back and paid no further attention to them.
"I'm just beginning to remember that we haven't eaten this morning," said Joe miserably. "I'm as hungry as a bear."
"Surely they don't intend to starve us. Of course, it's our own fault that we weren't on hand at breakfast time."
Frank called to the guard again and tried to make further signs indicating that they were hungry. But the man merely laughed and turned away again.
Hours passed. The boys were in the depths of wretchedness. Another native came up and replaced their former guard. This man seemed of a more friendly disposition, for he came into the cave, took a knife from his belt and cut the ropes, apparently realizing that it was needless cruelty to keep the prisoners tied up while under close supervision.
Again Frank and Joe made signs to indicate their hunger. Although the man evidently understood, he shook his head, pointed down to the camp, and burst into a lengthy explanation which the boys could not interpret. They did gather, however, that he did not dare get them anything to eat.
"I guess he has to obey orders," Frank said, stretching his arms, which were stiff and sore. "Maybe we're lucky we weren't shot for trying to escape."
The day wore on slowly. The guard was sympathetic enough to bring them some water. Although they were made to suffer from hunger, they were not forced to endure the added torture of thirst.
"I wonder where Yaqui is now," said Joe reflectively.
"Halfway home, probably. I hope he tells Senor Marcheta what has happened to us."
"It's strange the natives haven't been making a fuss about his escape."
"Perhaps he didn't escape after all," said Joe significantly. "He may have been killed trying to get away, for all we know."
The boys spent a miserable day. When they left Bayport, excited over the prospect of an adventurous trip to Texas, they had not bargained for anything like this.
As night came, their discouragement became greater. A new guard appeared on the scene, bringing with him a substantial supper which he ate on the adobe platform outside the entrance, smacking his lips over every mouthful. The boys tried to persuade him to share the food with them, much as it hurt their pride to do so, but he shrugged his shoulders and continued to gormandize.
"Greedy brute!" said Frank. "I feel absolutely hollow."
When the guard had finished his supper he paced up and down before the entrance to the cave. After a while Frank and Joe heard a shout, which the sentinel answered. A moment later he came to the doorway and beckoned to them.
"Supper time!" exclaimed Joe gleefully.
"Maybe."
The boys went outside. Up near the camp they could see a great fire blazing, and in the light of the flames they saw figures moving to and fro. Then a drum began to beat monotonously.
Frank gulped.
"I hope they don't intend to burn us at the Stake!"
The guard growled an irritable command and thrust them ahead. The flickering flames, the shifting figures in the firelight, the monotonous pounding of the drum created a triii and savage effect. A group of natives sitting just beyond the circle of radiance were chanting solemnly.
"It must be some sort of ceremonial dance," remarked Joe, with as much confidence as he could muster.
Frankly, he did not like the looks of the situation at all. What barbaric rites might be practiced here in the heart of the mountains he did not know, yet he was prepared for anything.
A tall native with his head wound about in colorful bandages and his face painted horribly, leaped out from the circle and motioned to the guard, who brought the prisoners over immediately. No one else paid any attention to them. The Indian with the painted face was evidently a medicine man, for he appeared to be in full charge of the ceremony, directing the natives who danced wildly around the fire and continued their droning chant to the beating of the drum.
Frank's attention was caught by a raised platform not far away, where a small figure was seated in state watching the performance. The man was enveloped in a gay blanket and had a headband about his hair. Though he was dressed as a native, Frank saw at a glance that the man was neither a Mexican nor an Indian.
That man! In this place!
Frank nudged Joe vigorously and indicated the person on the platform.
At that moment one of the half-breeds threw a great heap of fagots on the fire. They ignited with a roar and the flames leaped high into the air. The whole face of the cliff was illuminated with a ruddy glow. So intense was the light that the Hardy boys could now see the white man's face clearly.
A simultaneous cry of recognition broke from their lips, although the smooth shaven individual was changed from the last time the Hardys had seen him.
"Elmer Tremmer!"
CHAPTER XIX
Vain Pleadings
In spite of their surprise and the gravity of their position, the Hardy boys almost laughed aloud when they saw the missing witness, the former Bayport bookkeeper, sitting in state in his outlandish garb.
Elmer Tremmer had always been a meek, inoffensive man inclined to rusty black suits and linen collars, the soul of respectability and conventionality. To see him in this wild place, with a blanket about him and a band around his gray hair, was almost too ridiculous. From the expression on Elmer Tremmer's face he did not seem to be enjoying himself; he appeared to realize that he was quite as much out of place here as one of the natives would have been in a Bayport office.
"Elmer Tremmer, and in a box seat!" exclaimed Frank.
"We must talk to him. He doesn't seem to be a prisoner. If anyone can get us out of this jam it will be he," Joe declared.
"He hasn't seen us yet."
Frank looked around at the guard. But that worthy was so absorbed in watching the ceremonial of the dance that he appeared to have forgotten his prisoners altogether. In a moment the two boys slipped away from his side and vanished into the shadows.
There was so much confusion as one native after another joined the ring of figures around the fire, that the Hardys were able to make their way close to the platform without being noticed.
Elmer Tremmer, his arms folded, gazed solemnly down at the crowd.
Frank knew that any open attempt to attract the man's attention might be disastrous, so the brothers edged their way as near the platform as they dared, and pretended to be absorbed in the spectacle before them. Frank had, at one time, tried to learn the tricks of ventriloquism and had taken lessons in the art from a famous vaudeville artist who was a close friend of Fenton Hardy. This practice now stood him in good stead.
Gazing straight before him, and without moving his lips, he said clearly:
"Mr. Tremmer!"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the figure on the platform start violently. The man looked up, then all around him, his face a study in bewilderment. This was the last place in the world where the fugitive bookkeeper might have expected to hear his name called aloud.
"Look down," said Frank.
Tremmer obeyed. Then his eyes opened wide as he saw the two American lads almost at his feet.
"Who–who are you!" he stammered weakly.
"We're the Hardy boys from Bayport," Frank told him.
Elmer Tremmer's expression became instantly suspicious.
"Bayport!"
"Yes. We'd like to talk to you."
"Not here," muttered Tremmer hastily. "Not here. They–they may be watching us. It's dangerous."
"Don't you want to get out of this place? Perhaps we can help you escape.''
"I'll come to see you tonight," the man muttered. "Don't talk here. I'll come to your cave.''
"When?"
"As soon as I can get away. Midnight, probably. But don't talk any more now. Don't let on you know me."
Tremmer was evidently very much frightened, so the Hardy boys quietly withdrew and returned to their guard, taking up their positions at his side. The man, still staring at the dancers, had not even noticed their absence.
Frank plucked the guard's sleeve and made signs that they wished to go. He was evidently annoyed at having to miss the rest of the spectacle, but went back to the cave with them, grumbling all the way. They tried to persuade him to get them some food, but the man was now in a bad temper and their request was ignored.
Back in the cave the boys sat down to await the coming of Elmer Tremmer, and to make plans. If they could only escape from the canon with the fugitive witness, their mission to Mexico would be a success.
"He seemed to be scared stiff," remarked Frank. "I wonder if he is a prisoner after all. If they have him under guard he won't be able to come here."
"Perhaps he isn't closely watched."
The moon rose higher in the sky. The boys peered out of the cave. To their surprise they found that the guard had vanished.
Frank chuckled.
"I guess he thought we were asleep and figured he might as well go down again and watch the dance. He didn't like it very much when we made him leave right in the middle of the performance."
A few yards down the trail they heard a light footstep. As the boys watched, a shadowy figure came moving quietly along the wall of rock.
"It's our guard coming back," whispered Frank.
"The guard wouldn't move that quietly. If must be Tremmer."
Swiftly and silently the man came nearer. Then with a few quick strides he reached the mouth of the cave.
"Yaqui!" cried the boys.
It was indeed their erstwhile guide. He was breathing heavily, as if he had traveled a long distance. Without a word he plunged into the cave and flung himself down on the floor, panting breathlessly.
"Yaqui, where did you come from? Where have you been?" the brothers demanded anxiously.
"Went for help," he gasped. "Got horses. And food."
He gestured weakly toward a bag slung across his back.
Frank and Joe were overcome with joy and not a little ashamed of the suspicions they had entertained that morning. Yaqui had not deserted them after all. How many miles he had traveled that day they did not know, but it was plain that his great strength was almost exhausted.
The boys opened the bag of food and ate hungrily, though sparingly, realizing that the food might have to last them for a long while. The Indian refused to eat.
After a time he recovered sufficiently to tell them something of his adventures. He had made his way down the back trail on foot until he had found tracks that led him to a small farm in the foothills. There he had.succeeded in borrowing horses and obtaining food.
While the Yaqui, in low tones, was telling his story, the boys again heard footsteps on the trail leading to the cave.
"Quick! Hide!" they urged the Indian. "It may be the guard."
Yaqui promptly concealed himself behind a niche of rock at the back of the cave. The boys waited as the cautious footsteps came closer. Then Elmer Tremmer sidled into their prison.
"I can't stay very long," he whispered. "If Vincenzo misses me he'll suspect something."
"Is Vincenzo in the camp now?" asked Frank.
"Yes, of course," returned Tremmer. "Oh, dear," he added mournfully, "if I'd known it was to be like this I don't believe I should have ever left the States."
"But why did you leave?" Joe asked.
"You know well enough," returned Tremmer. "I went away because I'd have been sent to prison if I had stayed. That's why you're here. You want to bring me back. But I'm not going back," he declared. "Even this is better than being in jail. "
"Then you came of your own free will! You aren't a prisoner?"
"I'm not supposed to be a prisoner, though I might as well be one," replied the former bookkeeper. "It was an unlucky day for me when I took that job with the Bio Oil Company, I tell you. Vincenzo promised me I'd have a wonderful life if I'd come to Mexico with him. Now, here I am in this miserable camp in the mountains. Nothing very glorious about it."
"Vincenzo told you that you'd be sent to jail if you stayed in Bayport?" inquired Frank.
Tremmer nodded. "He said the authorities were preparing to arrest me. You see, being the bookkeeper of the firm, I should have known that there was something crooked about the business. He says I'm legally just as much to blame as any of them. So I ran away."
"Vincenzo was lying to you," Joe said. "The authorities wanted you as a witness against the Bio crowd. That's why Vincenzo talked you into going away."
"That's your story," answered Tremmer suspiciously, "but I know different. You're trying to talk me into going back with you. Then the moment I step on American soil you'll have me arrested. I'm not such a fool as all that. Fenton Hardy has trailed me ever since I left Bayport, and now you're trying to make me fall into his trap. No, sir!"
The boys had expected any attitude but this. Patiently they argued with the man, aggravated by his stupidity. But Elmer Tremmer had evidently been thoroughly frightened by Vincenzo, and resolutely refused to return to Bayport.
"This isn't much of a place," he said, "but at least it isn't jail."
"Don't you believe we're telling the truth?" demanded Frank. "Don't you trust us?"
"No," returned Elmer Tremmer promptly. "You're detectives and you are trying to arrest me."
Half an hour of argument failed to alter the man's decision. He was convinced that his only safety remained in staying with Pedro Vincenzo. Nothing the boys could say would convince him otherwise. Finally, in desperation, Joe exclaimed:
"Well then, if you won't come back to Bayport with us, surely you'll help us get away from here, won't you?"
In the moonlight that shone through the cave entrance they saw that Elmer Tremmer's weak face looked frightened. He shook his head.
"No. I couldn't do that. It's impossible."
"But why?" they asked, almost dumbfounded by his refusal.
"You're not getting away from here if I can help it. If you ever reach the city you'll tell everybody where I am. Besides, I don't dare make Vincenzo angry. He could turn me over to the police in a minute if he wished."
"Do you mean to say you won't help us?"
"I don't want to go to jail. And that's what will happen if I help you escape from here," declared Elmer Tremmer stubbornly.
The boys pleaded with him desperately, but Tremmer was not to be moved. He had a vein of obstinacy in his makeup that was hard to break. Yet back of everything was his fear that he would be taken to the States and sent to prison because of the Bio Oil frauds. Over and over again Frank and Joe tried to convince him that his fears were groundless and that he was playing into the hands of Pedro Vincenzo, but Elmer Tremmer refused to listen.
"It's all a trick!" he said. "Just a trick to get me back. I'm too smart to be fooled."
"Smart!" said Frank. "Vincenzo has fooled you from the beginning."
"Maybe. Maybe," replied Tremmer. "But he hasn't tricked me into jail yet, and that's what you're trying to do."
"You're a fine specimen if you won't help us escape from here, that's all I can,say," Joe told him angrily.
Tremmer got up and moved toward the cave entrance.
"Can't help it. Can't help it," he said. "I have to look out for myself."
Then he scuttled out into the night.
CHAPTER XX
The Revolt
"What a pal!" exclaimed Joe in disgust. "I'm ashamed to think that a man like that comes from my own home town."
"He's stupid and weak–"
"And scared pink."
"Yes, he's scared. That's the big trouble. Vincenzo has filled him up with a lot of lies. If Tremmer were as smart as he thinks he is, he would have seen through the scheme long before."
The tramp of heavy footsteps outside the cave silenced them. When they looked out they saw that two sentinels had been posted at the entrance, one on either side. Frank whistled softly.