Under the flickering firelight in the camp in the valley of the Cedar, Grenville Ford unfolded for Tim the story of the revolt in Guato, the looting of the gold mines and the flight from Martee in the old tramp steamer.

“I was covering the revolution in Guato at the time for the old New York Globe,” said Ford, as he traced the events which had finally brought him into contact with the flying reporter of the News.

“The revolution was headed by Manuel Crespes, who was a professional trouble maker. He got together a band of desperadoes, all of the riff-raff in Central America, armed them with modern weapons, and promised them all of the loot they could get. In less than a month he had 3,000 of the toughest soldiers you ever saw with him.”

Ford puffed slowly on his pipe.

“Three thousand men is quite an army for Central America,” he went on, “and Crespes knew how to handle them. He kept them well fed and paid them promptly. We never knew where the money came from but we had a hunch Russia was supplying him with funds.

“The revolt started at Martee, the main seaport, and the rebels swept everything before them and started inland for the capital, Blanco. They looted every village they went through and it looked like they were going to win in a walkaway. But Crespes didn’t know that the foxy old president of Guato had purchased a fleet of American bombing planes and had secured a bunch of former war pilots to fly them. When the rebels got up in the narrow passes of the mountains just east of the capital the bombers dropped down out of the sky.

“I was there that day. Those big eagles just came out of the blue, unloaded their ‘eggs’ and then soared away for another load. The rebels were trapped. In ten minutes the backbone of the revolt was broken and they were fleeing for the seaport and safety at Martee. I had a hard time keeping up with them.

“On the way to Martee, Crespes and the other ringleaders cleaned out the gold mines in the foothills. I don’t know exactly how much, but it was at least a million. They managed to get the bullion to Martee and load it on the only ship in the harbor, the old Southern Queen.

“They got away just before sunset and were well out to sea when the bombing planes swept down in search of them. The Southern Queen was never reported in any port and no member of its crew was ever heard from. There were all kinds of stories. Some said the old steamer had been caught in a tropical gale and gone down with all hands, others said that Crespes had managed to blow it up after getting away with a large share of the gold while some stories said the Southern Queen was beached on the coast of Yucatan, the crew fleeing after dividing the gold.

“It was a mystery that intrigued me. I wanted to know what had happened to the ship and its crew and I wanted the gold it held. For years I ran down one rumor after another. That story last year sent out from New York was written around one of the rumors, but my trip to see Crazy John was based on something more than rumor.”

Ford paused while Tim threw fresh fuel on the flames.

“A month ago an old sailorman in New York told me he’d met a fellow years ago who said he knew what had happened to the Southern Queen. I got to checking up and the man he was talking about was John Boggs, the ship’s carpenter, the man we know as Crazy John. Again, through sheer coincidence, I learned from a pearl dealer in New York that he occasionally bought fresh water pearls from a man named John Boggs out here in the Cedar river valley. It didn’t take me long to get on the job.”

“Could Crazy John tell you about the Southern Queen?”

The globe trotter smiled. “Crazy John told me the whole story and I’m so sure he’s told the truth that I’m going into the Caribbean at once.”

“What happened to the Southern Queen?”

“It struck a reef off an island on the coast of Yucatan. The accident happened shortly after midnight. Crazy John says they started to sink at once and the crew and rebels were too drunk to get the boats off. A few jumped overboard and tried to swim to the island. The sharks got them. Crazy John managed to get a skiff launched and he reached the island. It was uninhabited and a gale wrecked his small boat. He finally made a raft but he drifted for days before he was able to get across the channel to the mainland for the currents held him just away from the shore. He thinks he went insane then and it wasn’t until he got away from the sea and settled down here that his mind cleared up. But the horror of those days on the raft is too much for him. He won’t go back.”

“I don’t blame him,” said Tim. “It must have been horrible, drifting for days with the shore in sight.”

“I’ve made an agreement with Crazy John that he is to have a fourth of the treasure if it is found,” went on Ford. “In turn he has given me an excellent description of the island and that section of the coast of Yucatan. I’m sure I’ll be able to find the island without difficulty.”

“But will you be able to locate the remains of the Southern Queen and bring up the treasure if you do find her?”

“That’s something I’ve got to take a chance on. A good many people would like to have the same information I obtained from Crazy John.”

“Including Jack Sladek?”

“Right. Sladek would give a good many thousand.”

“Why is he so interested?”

“Sladek was one of the soldiers of fortune with Crespes on the short-lived revolution. He had a broken leg and they sailed away from Martee and left him stranded there. It saved Sladek’s life, but he doesn’t know that.”

“How could he have learned about Crazy John?” asked Tim.

“Only through keeping close track of my movements and I’ve felt for months that someone has been shadowing me. Sladek is a cool hand and without scruples but I know the only way he learned about Crazy John was through tracing me.”

“Then it looks like he may vote himself a hand in hunting for the treasure.”

“He may, but I think I’ll be ready and capable of taking care of him when the time comes. Sladek is looked upon none too favorably in Central America while I believe I can still claim a lot of friends.”

“Were you really serious about taking me on the expedition?” asked Tim.

“Dead serious,” replied the globe trotter. “You’re resourceful and that’s exactly the type I need. Do you think you can arrange with your editor to get away for about three months?”

“If there’ll be some good stories in connection with the trip, he won’t be likely to object.”

“I guess I can promise him plenty of stories and some of them may be real thrillers. We’re going to make the trip in a submarine.”

Tim stared across the flames at Ford, wondering if he had heard correctly.