He strode away, chuckling to himself.
"It's all our fault, Dad," said Frank ruefully. "We got you into this jam."
"But you found Tremmer," said Mr. Hardy. "Tell me about it. Perhaps we haven't lost the fellow after all."
"If we can ever get in touch with Yaqui we'll find him fast enough," Joe said.
The boys related their story: how they had started out into the desert and had followed the trail of the caravan, only to be captured by the bandits and turned over to Pedro Vincenzo; how they had discovered Tremmer, and of the conversation they had had with the fugitive bookkeeper. They explained how the missing witness had led the revolt, and then; escaped.
"What have you been doing, Dad?" asked Joe when the recital was finished. "How did you get into this part of the country?"
"When I left you," Fenton Hardy explained, "I was on the track of certain people who could give me information about the oil frauds. I rounded up half a dozen of the mea involved in the case and turned them over to the authorities. But I found that the only evidence that would clinch the case would be that of Elmer Tremmer–if he could be found."
"How did you discover that we had been captured by Vincenzo?" asked Frank.
"I didn't know that. But I learned that you had been seen on the edge of the desert," explained Mr. Hardy, "and I followed the trail from that point. Later I was told by a native that two American boys had been seen in a camp near the river, so I came in this direction. A half-breed came to my camp two nights ago and went away in a hurry. I imagine he must have been one of Pedro Vincenzo's spies. But instead of telling Vincenzo he went to Tremmer."
"That explains why Tremmer became so courageous all of a sudden," remarked Joe. "He knew he could bargain with Pedro."
"We must figure out a way of escape," said Mr. Hardy. "We're not beaten as long as Yaqui can keep on the trail of the missing witness."
"I told him to blaze the trees as he went," said Joe. "If we can get out of here we should be able to follow him easily enough."
"Well," volunteered Frank, "Yaqui told me where he had hidden the horses he brought back with him. He said there is a ford across the river a little farther up. If I can get out of here tonight I'll find the horses and perhaps we can make our way across the river."
Fenton Hardy gestured toward the guard who was standing at the cave mouth.
"He will be the chief obstacle."
"We'll have to wait until it gets dark," said Joe in a low voice.
The three were very hungry. As the boys shared with their father the food Yaqui had left, they told Fenton Hardy how Vincenzo had adopted a starvation policy toward them.
The day passed slowly. They wondered if Pedro Vincenzo planned to hold the Ceremonial of the Fire that night. But darkness fell, and their captor did not come near them.
"I'm going to try to slip out tonight," said Frank. "When I find the horses I'll bring them as close to the camp as I dare. Then, if you can get past the guard, come on out and join me."
"How shall we know when you're ready?" Joe asked.
"I'll imitate a wildcat's scream."
"You aren't out of the cave yet," Fenton Hardy reminded him. "That comes first."
"I'll get out somehow."
"Dad, in the excitement we forgot to tell you something we discovered," said Joe suddenly.
"Sure thing," echoed his brother. "We've found out an important secret."
"I'm interested," answered Mr. Hardy. "What is it?"
"Well, we were able to track Pedro to a certain cave and located a box he had secreted."
"It was wrapped in a Bayport newspaper!" interrupted Frank.
Mr. Hardy smiled. "Sounds as if the contents of the cache came from our own home town."
"I'm sure they did," explained Frank. "There were thousands of dollars rolled up, Pedro's share in the illegal stock sale."
"Maybe more than his share," was Mr. Hardy's comment. "The man isn't above robbing his friends. I know that from information I have uncovered lately."
After this conversation there was silence for a while.
"I do wish they would bring us a drink of water," said Mr. Hardy presently.
Thereupon the detective got up and went to the mouth of the cave. As he understood Spanish, he was able to talk to the guard. Sternly he demanded food and drink. After a brief argument the sentry went on up to the main camp. Another native quickly took his place, however, just as Frank was beginning to think this would be an excellent time in which to slip away.
In a little while the first guard returned. Greatly to the surprise of the boys, he carried with him an earthen plate of food and a gourd of water.
He spoke to Mr. Hardy in Spanish and offered him the food.
"Don't drink the water!" whispered Frank tensely.
"Why not?" demanded Joe in surprise. "I'm dying of thirst."
"Don't drink it!"
Joe and Mr. Hardy were puzzled by Frank's insistence. They ate the food, however, but thrust the water aside.
The sentry was astonished. He pointed to the gourd.
"I'm suspicious of it," Frank said quietly. "Let the guard drink it if he wishes."
Mr. Hardy indicated that the man himself might have the water. The sentinel thereupon picked up the gourd and drank deeply, smacking his lips in appreciation. He went out of the cave and sat down near the entrance. Then he spoke to his companion guard, who went away.
"How do you think you are going to get out of here, Frank?" asked his father.
"Wait and see."
The sentry took another drink. Then the Hardys noted that the man appeared to grow drowsy. His head sank slowly upon his chest. After a little while he revived momentarily and again quaffed deeply from the gourd, only to grow sleepy almost immediately.
"I suspected there was dope in that gourd," Frank whispered.
As he spoke, the guard suddenly slumped forward. The gourd tumbled from his hands into the dust. The man fell over and sprawled unconscious in front of the cave.
"You were right, Frank," said Joe excitedly. "And that stuff was meant for us."
Frank crept to the opening and looked out.
CHAPTEE XXIV
The Branded Tree
"How did you know the water was drugged?" Joe asked.
"Yaqui warned me to expect something like that. He overheard the two guards talking last night. One of them said we were to be given a drink made out of a narcotic variety of cactus."
The unconscious man lying at the entrance evidently had not been told of the plan. He was snoring heavily.
"Why can't we all escape now?" said Joe.
"We won't get very far without horses," Frank reminded him. "If we are missed before we have time to get the animals we'll be captured and brought back in a hurry. If you and Dad stay here no one will become suspicious, should any of Vincenzo's men accidentally come up here. You will cover my escape."
"Are you sure you can find the horses?" asked Fenton Hardy.
"If they haven't run away. I ought to be back in less than half an hour."
Frank slipped out into the night, Fenton Hardy and Joe settled down to wait for him.
As he listened for Frank's signal, Joe told his father a more complete story of the adventures he and his brother had undergone from the time their father had left them at the Marcheta villa.
"Tremmer always was a weak sort of character," Mr. Hardy said, after Joe had related how the fugitive bookkeeper had refused to help them. "He isn't crooked, though. I think Vincenzo has frightened him so thoroughly that he is desperate. The oil company faker has persuaded him that we want to arrest him and that he'll be sent to the penitentiary if he goes back to the States. It's too bad he has slipped through our fingers. I think I might have been able to have made him listen to reason."
"We haven't lost him yet. Yaqui is on his trail."
"Now our problem is to follow the Indian," smiled Fenton Hardy.
"We may not be able to do much until daylight. Yaqui said he would blaze a trail on the trees as he went."
Mr. Hardy took a powerful electric flashlight from his pocket.
"Perhaps this will help," he said.
"It will be the very thing!" Joe exclaimed
"I hope Frank finds those horses. With any luck at all, we ought to be able to overtake Mr. Elmer Tremmer before he gets very far away."
The minutes went by. Joe began to grow nervous.
"I hope nothing has happened to Frank," he said.
"I'm not worrying about him," Fenton Hardy said confidently. "You boys always seem to land on your feet."
"We landed in a tight fix this time," Joe answered.
Suddenly, away up in the darkness of the gorge, they heard a harsh, savage screech. It was exactly like the scream of a wildcat. Joe and his father leaped to their feet.
"Frank's signal!" exclaimed the latter. "I knew he wouldn't fail us."
They went out of the cave. The snoring guard did not stir. Up near the native camp they saw a fire, while dark figures moved back and forth against the ruddy glare.
"The coast is clear," whispered Joe.
Quickly they flitted through the gloom until they reached the trail. They encountered no one, and the sullen roar of the river drowned any sound they might have made.
Joe had not forgotten their little pet, which was close at his heels.
The boy and his father rounded a bend in the trail and left the camp behind. After five minutes of brisk walking they saw the shadowy outline of horses ahead of them. They heard a low whistle.
"We're here, Frank!" called out Joe softly.
Frank had succeeded in locating the ponies, which were spirited animals. They were saddled and bridled. Everything was in readiness.
"I've been looking around," said Frank. "There's a path leading down to the river from this place and the water seems shallow. It's a ford, I'm sure. I think we can get across to the other side. Then we'll work our way along the bank and try to pick up Yaqui's trail."
"Dad has a flashlight," Joe told him.
"Good work. We won't be able to use it while we're in sight of the camp, but it will be handy later on."
The three Hardys mounted their ponies and rode down the path to the stream, where the animals plunged into the water without hesitation. The river was shallow and the current was not swift. They made the crossing without difficulty. As if by instinct the lead pony found the trail on the opposite bank.
When the Hardys came in sight of the camp again they proceeded cautiously lest they be seen by someone on the opposite shore. Most of the natives were asleep. The others were so busy with their own concerns, that by the time the trio reached the place where they had last seen Elmer Tremmer they were confident they had not been observed.
Before them, visible in the moonlight, a winding trail led up the wall of the canon. The ponies followed it without hesitation. The sure-footed animals took to the narrow path as if it had been a highway.
"I'd think twice before I would tackle this without a horse," murmured Joe as they made their way on up the steep face of the cliff. "One false step, and a fellow wouldn't stop rolling until he hit the water."
"These ponies don't make false steps," Frank assured him.
They finally reached the top of the canon wall. Glancing back, they could see the white gleam of the river far below in the moonlight, and the red glare of the natives' campfire in the distance. Before them loomed the dark wall of a forest.
"Now, if Yaqui has kept his promise and blazed the trail for us we'll set out after Elmer Tremmer," declared Frank. "I guess it's safe to use the flashlight now, Dad."
Fenton Hardy snapped on the light. The brilliant beam phone on the tangle of tropical vesretation before them. It picked out a patch of white on a tree trunk where the bark had been slashed off with a sharp knife.
"Good old Yaqui!" exclaimed Joe. "It's as plain as a Bayport street sign."
The Hardys rode toward the blazed tree. The flashlight showed them a fresh trail leading into the bush. A few yards ahead they saw a second blaze. Fenton Hardy led the way with the light, and they all plunged into the forest.
Thanks to Yaqui's signs they were able to follow the bush trail without difficulty, although their progress was slow. They had the satisfaction of knowing that they were steadily leaving Pedro Vincenzo and his men behind, and at last were drawing closer to the fugitive witness whose trail had brought them from far-off Bayport into a wild region of Mexico.
The bush thinned out eventually and they reached a clearing. In the middle of this open space towered an enormous tree.
''Look!'' cried Joe excitedly. ''The mark of the P!"
His sharp eyes had caught sight of a sign branded into the bark of the tree. Mr. Hardy turned the flashlight directly upon it, and they saw again the familiar symbol of the initial in the fagot fire.
"Pedro Vincenzo puts that symbol of his in strange places," remarked Fenton Hardy, examining it curiously. "I wonder why he went to all the trouble of leaving it here."
''It's probably there as a sign in case any of the natives should get lost trying to find their way back to the canon," Frank ventured. "Anyway, we haven't time to bother about it now. I see a fresh blaze on the other side of the clearing."
They struck again into the forest, leaving the mysteriously branded tree behind. Yaqui had been thorough about his work, and the Hardys followed the trail from blaze to blaze. In about an hour's time they came to the edge of the forest and emerged onto a hillside covered with low brush. At the foot of the slope was a rolling meadow, while a mile away they could see a glimmer of light.
"Perhaps Tremmer decided to camp for the night," Joe suggested.
"Let's hope so," replied Frank.
Out in the open they traveled at a faster pace. Soon they reached the foot of the slope and struck out across the level country. As they rode as fast as they could in the direction of the light, they saw the dim outline of a hut.
"It may be only a herder's cabin," said Fenton Hardy.
"If it is we've run into hard luck," Frank remarked. "There aren't any more trees to follow. We may lose the trail entirely."
Impatiently they rode toward the tiny cabin. As they drew up in front of the door a figure emerged. The flashlight shone upon the familiar face of Yaqui.
Frank and Joe uttered cries of delight as they flung themselves out of their saddles.
"Yaqui!" cried Frank. "We followed your trail. Is Tremmer far ahead?"
The Indian smiled. Then he gestured toward the hut.
"This is the end of the trail," he told them. "The white man is inside."
"Tremmer is here?" questioned Fenton Hardy.
CHAPTER XXV
The End of the Case
The Hardy boys found Elmer Tremmer, the fugitive bookkeeper, lying on a straw pallet on the floor of the gloomy little hut. He was in a state of utter collapse.
"I give up!" he cried weakly, as they entered the building. In the gleam of the flashlight his face was pale and worn. "I'm ready to go back. No matter what it costs-even if I go to prison-I'll go back."
The strain of that long journey through the bush had told heavily on him. He was not a strong man, and now he was physically exhausted.
Fenton Hardy sat down beside him.
"You've been very foolish, Tremmer," he said. "Why did you run away?"
"Because Vincenzo warned me. He said the authorities would arrest me for my part in the Bio Oil affair. But it wasn't my fault, Mr. Hardy. I swear it. I kept the books, but I didn't know the business was crooked. I see it now, of course-but it's too late."
"It isn't too late. Don't you realize that Vincenzo merely wanted you out of the way so you couldn't give evidence against his associates?"
"Your sons told me that. But I didn't believe them. I thought it was a trick to get me back to the States."
"It wasn't a trick. I'm authorized to promise you, Tremmer, that no action will be taken against you if you will come back to Bayport and give your evidence for the State."
"I can really go back? And I won't be put in prison?" cried Tremmer eagerly.
"You have my promise," said Fenton Hardy firmly.
"Then," returned Tremmer, "I'll return with you. And believe me, I'll be glad to see Bayport again. Mexico is a wonderful country, but it's no fun being a prisoner and thinking you're a fugitive from justice at the same time."
Frank and Joe were hilarious with joy. Their mission to Mexico had been successful at last. They clapped Yaqui on the back and assured him that he deserved most of the credit. Even the dog, Egg, seemed to realize that the occasion called for a demonstration, and he went scampering about the hut barking with delight.
"I must tell you," said Elmer Tremmer, "that Vincenzo has other plans up his sleeve. I overheard him talking to one of his men yesterday. He is planning to kidnap a girl–her name is Dolores–"
"Dolores Marcheta!" cried Fenton Hardy.
"Yes. That's the name," exclaimed Tremmer. "If you know the family, they must he warned."
"Then there is no time to lose," declared Frank. "The Marchetas are friends of ours. Before we leave Mexico we must see that Pedro Vincenzo is put behind the bars where he belongs."
The Hardys and Mr. Tremmer set out early the next morning, and with the guidance of Yaqui soon found their way to the main highway. They came to a large inn where they were able to hire an automobile that whirled them over the last thirty miles of their journey in less than an hour's time. It was mid-afternoon when they reached the home of Senor Marcheta.
Fenton Hardy and his sons received a royal welcome. Senor Marcheta and Juan made no secret of the sense of relief they felt in seeing their American friends again.
"We were sure you must have been captured by bandits when the soldiers we sent failed to find you," declared Juan. "We were going to organize a search party."
"We were," laughed Frank. "And the search party will still be useful."
They told the story of their adventures. When Senor Marcheta learned that Vincenzo was still planning villainy against his household he lost no time getting into action.
"We'll settle that fellow without any more delay," he said. "Now that we know where to find Vincenzo's headquarters, we can organize a raiding party." Then, turning to the detective and his sons, Senor Marcheta said, "No doubt, after your trying experiences, you will prefer to rest. If you will permit us to have the services of your Yaqui as a guide–"
"Don't you want us to come along?" cried Joe. "Do you think we'll let the Indian have all the fun? Just try to keep us out of this excursion.''
Senor Marcheta laughed.
"My little joke," he apologized. "I might have known you would insist upon being present at the end."
Accompanied by a squad of a dozen soldiers, Senor Marcheta, Juan, Yaqui, Fenton Hardy and his sons set out early the following morning for the canon. Swift automobiles brought them within a few miles of their destination. Then they mounted ponies and rode down a side trail toward the river. When the soldiers came in sight of the native village they swooped upon it, hoping to capture Pedro Vincenzo by surprise.
The wily rogue was not to be caught napping, however. He had evidently suspected the truth when he had learned of his prisoners' escape. Greatly to the disappointment of the raiding party the village was deserted. Not a native remained. Pedro Vincenzo and his followers had taken to their heels.
The soldiers scouted around for some time hoping to pick up the trail, but without success. Senor Marcheta was crestfallen.
"As long as that rascal is at large," he said, "I shall never feel that any member of my family is safe."
Joe was looking thoughtfully across the river.
"Frank," he said, "I have an idea. Let's take Yaqui and a couple of the soldiers. I may be all wrong, but I think I can find Vincenzo's hiding place."
Frank was puzzled.
"What's the idea?" he asked.
"The mark on the door," Joe replied mysteriously.
Yaqui and two of the soldiers readily agreed to follow him. Juan and his father begged to be allowed to come also. Joe led the party across the river and tip the path to the top of the canon wall, then through the bush, following the trail blazed by the Yaqui in the pursuit of Elmer Tremmer. At last they came to the huge tree in the clearing.
"It's just a hunch," said Joe, pointing to the familiar brand in the surface of the tree, "but Vincenzo had a habit of putting that mark on doors."
Frank quickly seized his brother's idea. The Hardy boys dismounted hastily and went over to the tree. After a brief examination they shouted with triumph, and called to the soldiers. Joe seized a knot in the rough surface, tugged at it-and the whole side of the trunk came away.
There was revealed a cunningly contrived door. The Hardys climbed through the opening, and looked down an aperture. They saw a flight of steps leading below the ground, and quickly descended. A moment later those above heard shouts and cries for mercy. Then, at the foot of the stairs, appeared Joe and Frank dragging a craven figure.
The man was Pedro Vincenzo. The mark on the door had revealed the secret of his last hiding place.
Senior Marcheta and Juan stared at the prisoner.
"Why, it's Pedro Pancho!" cried Juan.
The captive glared at Senor Marcheta.
"I see the game is up," he said bitterly. "But if it hadn't been for those American boys, I'd have had my revenge on you, Marcheta."
"Thanks to the Hardys," replied the Mexican gentleman with dignity, "my family will now know peace and security. As for your fancied revenge, you are aware that I never harmed you. It was all in your evil imagination."
He spoke curtly to the soldiers and turned away. In a moment Pedro's arms were bound tightly behind his back. He was mounted upon a pony and thus brought ingloriously back to the camp.
So the mission of the Hardy boys to Mexico was finally crowned with success. Pedro Vincenzo, in captivity, proved to be a frightened coward. When he learned that Tremmer was no longer afraid of him and that the former bookkeeper had promised to give evidence for the State, he talked freely and exposed all the crooked dealings of his associates in the Bio Oil Company. In so doing he hoped to win favor, but it gained him little. For the abduction of Juan and for many other crimes which were traced to him by the Mexican authorities he was sentenced to a long term in prison.
As for Elmer Tremmer, he returned to Bayport with Mr. Hardy and the boys–to say-nothing of the dog Egg–and went on the witness stand to clinch the State's case against the crooked promoters. The authorities succeeded in rounding up every member of the fake oil company.
Joe and Frank received high praise for having located the box in the cave, where Vincenzo had stored much of the loot from the sale of the bogus stock.
The shareholders who had been victimized by the promoters were reimbursed. Fenton Hardy, for his work in running down the missing witness, was paid a handsome fee.
"But I don't deserve it, as a matter of fact," he told the shareholders who had employed him. "My sons really should have the credit."
Although Frank and Joe insisted that they were "just trying to help," Fenton Hardy shared the fee with them. He put the money to their credit in the bank where they already had a substantial sum on deposit in the form of rewards paid them for their work in solving other mysteries.
"We didn't do it for money," said Frank. "We had a million dollars' worth of adventure out of it."
"And we brought back a dog for Mrs. Smith," Joe reminded him. "I hate to part with the little animal. But after all, the landlady gave us some mighty valuable clues. We first saw Pedro's mark on the door in her house."
"By the way," remarked Fenton Hardy, "I think you told me Vincenzo had damaged your motorboat. Did you have it repaired?"
"Yes. The boat is all right now," said Frank.
"How much did it cost?"
"Fourteen dollars and fifty cents."
Fenton Hardy counted out the money and put it on the desk.
"When I told the shareholders the whole story," he said, "they particularly requested that you be paid for the damage to the boat."
"We shouldn't take that money," remarked Frank.
"Why?" asked Fenton Hardy.
"Because," returned Frank wisely, "if Pedro hadn't bumped into us we probably shouldn't have located the missing witness or solved the mystery of the mark on the door."
THE END
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