  Gripped by utter astonishment, Biff could only stare from Serbot to Stannart. When he found his voice, he blurted out accusingly: “You two must have been working together from the very start!” “Not quite,” declared Mr. Stannart dryly, “although I must say that Mr. Serbot and I have continually operated along similar lines. However, it wasn’t until after your father told the Ajax Corporation about Lew Kirby and his wonderful mine that I even heard of Nicholas Serbot.” “And I,” rejoined Serbot, with his same fixed smile, “had never heard of the Ajax Mining Corporation.” “Despite the fact that your father was impressed by Kirby’s story,” Stannart told Biff, “Ajax still had to investigate it. Kirby had samples of gold that might have come from many places, and his map could have meant nothing. It was necessary to obtain some reports from the upper region of the Rio Negro. I learned that certain European interests were checking on the same story.” “And I,” added Serbot, “happened to represent some of those interests.” “So while the directors of the Ajax Corporation dawdled,” continued Stannart, “I contacted the competition. I had much to offer that they needed, as Mr. Serbot will agree.” “And I,” said Serbot, “advised them to meet the price, which included—this.” By “this” Serbot referred to the stolen portion of Kirby’s map, which he spread on the desk in front of him. Biff started to say something, then caught himself. Gregg Stannart recognized what was in Biff’s mind and promptly expressed it. “I needed a go-between,” Stannart asserted. “Some way to enable Serbot to use the information I could give him without bringing suspicion on myself.” “So you gave me that letter!” exclaimed Biff. He turned accusingly toward Serbot. “And you tried to steal it from me on the plane! It was all arranged beforehand!” “All very nicely arranged,” agreed Stannart, “because I wanted to keep my job with Ajax if the El Dorado story proved to be a hoax.” “Since I might have seen the address on the envelope you carried,” Serbot told Biff, “you and your father guessed that I sent Pepito to steal your precious map, which was exactly what I wanted. What you didn’t guess was that Stannart was in on the game. The funniest part”—for once, Serbot’s smile seemed real—“was that I had a carbon copy of Stannart’s letter to your father, here in my pocket all the time!” Biff swelled with indignation until he happened to glance toward Kamuka. All this talk had left Kamuka totally unimpressed. In Kamuka’s eyes, Biff saw only the same appeal that had been present that day when Biff had pulled the other boy from the quicksand. Biff suddenly realized that now they both were in something equally deep and probably just as deadly. Since he couldn’t say anything that would help, Biff said nothing. Stannart turned to Serbot and put the question: “What should we do with these boys?” “I don’t know,” returned Serbot harshly. “Maybe they should have upset their boat and drowned, coming down through those rapids. If something like that had happened—” “No, no,” Stannart interrupted. “Your men will have taken care of Brewster and his party by now. But we still need the boys to help us. Suppose we take them up the river, as far as the torn portion of your map—” Stannart was leaning forward, pointing to the map with one hand, but he had his other hand in his pocket, as though gripping a gun. “Of course!” exclaimed Serbot, who had one hand in a pocket, too. “Then they could take us back to where they came from, to this El Dorado that Nara talked about.” Both Stannart and Serbot were glaring hard at Biff as though now it was his turn to speak. Biff’s throat was dry, for he realized that these two men, in their desire for gold, would think nothing about snuffing out his life and Kamuka’s. Somebody had to speak for Biff right then—and somebody did, from the door of the cabin. “Nobody talks about El Dorado,” a crackly voice announced, “except Joe Nara, the man who owns it.” There in the doorway stood old Joe, both his guns drawn from their holsters, one fixed on Stannart, the other on Serbot. At Nara’s nod, the two men brought their hands from their pockets empty. They knew the old man meant business. “Pretty smart, both of you,” Nara said. “I never even guessed your game, Stannart, probably because I never met you before. But having seen you now, I think I would have known you for a rat from away back. “But I figured you out, Serbot. I knew what you were after—that cargo of mine. So I stayed with them.” Nara gave his head a quick tilt, to smile at Biff and Kamuka. “Yes, boys, I sent my Wai Wais down to the rapids, while I stayed in the cabin of my monteria. “Next thing I knew”—Nara gave a chuckle—“you were bringing me downriver, and a right good job you were making of it, too. Finally, you hauled up beside this yacht and went on board. When you didn’t come back, I reckoned you might be needing old Joe, so I moseyed on board, and here I am.” Still keeping Stannart and Serbot covered with his guns, Nara shifted his elbow toward his hip pocket to indicate a coil of rope that projected there. “Take that rope,” Nara told the boys, “and tie them up tight. Gag them, too, with their handkerchiefs. If they don’t have any, use your own. Make a good job of it. I want them to be here when I send around for them.” Biff and Kamuka followed Nara’s instructions eagerly. They did a good job with the gags, too, while Nara, brandishing his guns, kept talking to Stannart and Serbot in an accusing tone. “I figured you out before I ever met you,” declared Nara, “because I knew I’d be meeting up with rats some time, and you just happened to be it. You figured you’d get rid of me if you could, and even if you couldn’t you’d jump my claim. After all, who was Joe Nara? Just some crazy guy who thought he’d found El Dorado. “Crazy, yes, but like a fox. I came down the Orinoco more than once to make sure my claim was registered after each political shakeup in Venezuela. I didn’t even take any chances on this last trip.” Nara paused, then chuckled as he turned to the boys who had finished tying Stannart and Serbot in their chairs. “Remember how I dropped from sight in Puerto Ayacucho?” asked Nara. “Do you know where I was most of the day? Having lunch with His Excellency, the governor of the Amazonas Territory, that’s where. I told him some people were trying to steal my claim. He said he wouldn’t let them get away with it. “After I left his office, I snooped around and happened to be handy when you ran into trouble with Urubu. I’d finished my business with the governor. He said if he didn’t hear from me, he’d send some soldiers downriver to look me up.” Nara examined the knots that the boys had tied and gave an approving nod. He beckoned them out through the cabin door, which he closed behind him. The yacht’s crew suspected nothing, for they helped Nara and the boys over the rail and down into their waiting monteria. As they started up the broad Orinoco, Nara pointed to some boats that were coming toward them. “Government boats,” he chuckled, “bringing those soldiers I spoke about.” When they met the boats, they found the other monterias with them, manned by Biffs father, Mr. Whitman, and Jacome. The Venezuelan troops had arrived at the blockhouse during the battle and had helped rout Serbot’s followers, who were commanded by Pepito. In the rapids, they had contacted Nara’s Wai Wais, who had overpowered and captured Urubu and his crew. Igo and Ubi would be along later, Mr. Brewster stated, bringing their prisoners with them. “But we saw no sign of Serbot,” declared Mr. Brewster. “I think we should offer a reward for his capture. I’ll talk to Mr. Stannart about it, when I see him on the yacht.” “You better wait, Dad, till we tell you what happened,” Biff advised soberly. Mr. Brewster was shocked when he heard Biff’s story. “I can hardly believe it!” he exclaimed. “Gregg Stannart, of all men! But now that I think of it,” he added thoughtfully, “there’s been a piece missing from the puzzle right along—and Stannart was it!” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe it.” Now Mr. Brewster was more eager than anyone to take Stannart and Serbot into custody. As they approached the Coronet, they noticed excitement on the deck. Mr. Brewster studied the yacht through his binoculars and announced: “I see Stannart and Serbot, both of them. The crew must have found them in the cabin and released them.” A fast boat containing a squad of Venezuelan soldiers sped ahead to board the yacht. Sight of the military uniforms must have quenched any desire for fight in Stannart and Serbot, for suddenly a little motor launch scooted from the far side of the yacht and bounded through the choppy waves toward the left bank of the river. Only Stannart and Serbot were in the tiny tender. The boat with the Venezuelan soldiers turned to pursue it, opening rifle fire, but the fugitives kept on. Then, just as it seemed sure they would be overtaken, the chase ended. The soldiers, about to fire at close range, suddenly lowered their rifles. “It’s too late,” declared Mr. Brewster glumly. “They can’t be captured now. They have passed the middle of the river and are across the international line, in Colombian jurisdiction.” The captain of the yacht was astonished when told the reason for Stannart’s flight. He and his crew had known nothing about Stannart’s double-dealing. They had supposed that Serbot was simply a friend who had come on board to meet the owner. They had been puzzled to find the pair bound and gagged after Nara and the boys had left. Stannart had claimed that Nara and the boys had tried to rob him. The yacht captain had accepted that explanation until Stannart and Serbot saw the Venezuelan soldiers and suddenly took flight. Then it was plain that something was wrong. Contact was made with Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, and from there, radiograms were relayed to and from New York. Word finally came from the directors of the Ajax Mining Corporation, stating that they had checked their accounts and found that Stannart had taken most of the available funds before starting on his Caribbean yacht trip. The Ajax Corporation obtained an order enabling them to take over the Coronet, and the yacht was placed in Mr. Brewster’s charge. They also authorized Mr. Brewster to complete the transaction with Joe Nara on whatever terms might be mutually satisfactory. That was done on board the Coronet, which was still anchored near the junction of the Meta and the Orinoco. Mr. Brewster set the date when the Ajax Corporation would take over the mine with a down payment of a quarter of a million dollars to Joe Nara and a block of El Dorado stock that would guarantee him a share of all future profits. That same day, Joe Nara prepared to start back up the Orinoco with Igo, Ubi, and the other Wai Wais, who were eager to rejoin their fellow tribesmen as the guardians of El Dorado. Hal Whitman arranged to go along to represent the Ajax Company, taking Jacome with him. Kamuka packed his few belongings, expecting to accompany them. The Indian boy was saying a reluctant good-by to Biff on the deck of the yacht, when Mr. Brewster quietly commented: “You don’t have to go, Kamuka, if you’d rather come with us.” Kamuka’s eyes popped wide with eager surprise. Biff showed the same feeling, when he exclaimed, “You really mean it, Dad?” “I do,” rejoined Mr. Brewster. “Hal Whitman told me he has made plans to send Kamuka to a new school that is opening in Brasilia, the capital of Brazil. But Hal can’t possibly get down there for the next few weeks, or more. So there’s no reason why Kamuka can’t come home with us. Then he can fly to Brasilia after Mr. Whitman arrives there.” Biff turned and clapped Kamuka on the shoulder. “Will we have fun, Kamuka! First, the yacht will take us out into the Atlantic Ocean—” “I have heard of it,” put in Kamuka. “They say it is bigger than a thousand Amazons.” “And you’ll see New York, which is more wonderful than any El Dorado!” It was hard to tell which boy felt the greater thrill. Each was glad to continue a companionship in which they had shared so many adventures, forming the bonds of a friendship that would last always. Mr. Brewster was the most pleased of all. He stood at the stem of the yacht with Biff and Kamuka, while they were churning their way down the broad Orinoco toward Ciudad Bolivar, the largest port on the river. It was then that Biff turned to his father and said, very seriously: “Dad, I can’t see how Stannart and Serbot missed out. When they used me as a go-between, they had everything so easy.” “So easy, Biff?” “Yes. I must have been a big handicap to the safari. I’d never even seen a jungle, let alone run into the sort of dangers we found there.” “But you learned to meet those dangers, and more.” “Well, yes. I certainly did learn some things.” “And so did the rest of us,” declared Mr. Brewster. “Our enemies put us in spots where we had to pull one another out. That was their big mistake. The situations that we overcame early sharpened us for the problems we met later. That’s why we won out.” As Biff nodded slowly, his father added with a smile: “Think back, Biff, and you’ll see how it adds up.” Biff gazed back at the wide Orinoco, tapering to the dim, distant scenes of those final adventures, and he knew that his dad was right. A Biff Brewster Mystery Adventure |
|
