  “Just a minute, please,” Mr. Livingston interposed as the mining engineer started to leave the office. “We’ve come a long distance to see Appleby Corning. I feel I must know more about his strange disappearance.” Rhodes halted in the doorway, scowling. “I’m busy,” he replied pointedly. “As I told you, work isn’t progressing as it should. Whenever I turn my back, those confounded Indians lean on their tools, instead of working.” “We won’t keep you long,” Mr. Livingston returned in a quiet voice. “Just tell us what became of Mr. Corning.” “I don’t know,” the engineer retorted in exasperation. “I thought I made that clear.” “Why do you say he’s probably dead.” “Because he’s a captive of Carlos.” “The bandit!” “So I assume. I’d heard repeated reports that the mine was being badly managed. I came here to see if I could help. Lucky I did too. I found everything in chaos. Bandits, led by Carlos, had dropped down on the camp twelve hours earlier. They’d robbed the safe of emeralds and taken Corning captive.” “How long ago was that?” Mr. Livingston asked. “Ten days ago.” “What attempt have you made to trace Appleby?” “None.” “None?” The Scout leader repeated sharply. “It’s useless,” the engineer informed him. “You don’t know this country. Carlos is a devil. It would take a small army to blast him out of his hide-out.” “He didn’t seem such a bold demon when we brushed into him,” Jack drawled, entering the conversation. “In fact, he turned tail and ran like a coward.” Rhodes turned to stare intently at the youth. “You encountered Carlos?” he demanded. “Where?” “On the trail. He was alone.” “He tried to rob us,” contributed Ken, “but we were fortunate enough to elude him.” “Carlos doesn’t usually operate alone,” Rhodes informed the group. “You were lucky he didn’t shoot you at sight.” “If we’d known that he had taken Mr. Corning captive, we’d have pursued him,” Mr. Livingston said. “Where is his hide-out?” “Oh, he has half a dozen of them back in the hills,” the mining engineer returned vaguely. “He moves from one to another. A reward has been placed on his head, but no one ever collects.” “You say you’ve made no effort to try to find Corning?” “That’s right,” Rhodes retorted, “and I don’t like your tone, Mister. You know what these mountain trails are like.” “We do.” “I can’t send natives to look for him. They wouldn’t venture a step. As for myself, it would be folly to leave the mine. My first duty is to the operators.” “So nothing is to be done?” “I didn’t put it that way,” Mr. Rhodes returned, his eyes flashing. “If your friend is still alive—which I seriously doubt—there will be a ransom demand in time. It will be prohibitive, of course. Whether or not it is met, will be up to the mine operators, not to me.” “I’m not satisfied to sit and wait, Mr. Rhodes. Appleby and I were close friends. Something must be done.” “Then you do it!” the engineer snapped. He started to leave the office, then paused again. “I’ll put you up here for a day or so, if you’re not too particular about your accommodations,” he told the group. “One of the men will show you to your quarters as soon as the place has been fumigated.” “Fumigated?” Mr. Livingston’s eyebrows jerked upward. “For insects, you mean?” “Not exactly. The last occupant died of some unknown disease that’s been knocking the natives off like flies.” “In that case, we’ll use our sleeping bags and remain out-of-doors,” Mr. Livingston stated. “We have our canvas shelters.” “Suit yourself,” the engineer shrugged. “The nights here get pretty cold though. After a couple of days, I think you’ll be hitting the trail.” No one made a reply. The engineer hesitated a moment, and then without saying more, went out of the building. The Scouts saw him descend a series of roughly hewn stone steps into a pit where a dozen natives were at work. Mr. Livingston made certain that no one loitered near the office, before he spoke. Then he said: “The situation is a lot worse than I expected.” “Rhodes may be lying!” Ken asserted. “Do you think Appleby Corning really is dead?” War asked anxiously. “Something has happened to him, that’s evident,” the Scout leader replied. “I was afraid of it when he didn’t meet us or send word.” “All the same, there’s something fishy about Rhodes’ story,” Jack insisted. “Why would he show up here at exactly the right moment to check on the mine? Wasn’t he discharged?” “That was my understanding, Jack. Corning didn’t write very much, you know.” “The natural thing after being discharged would be to clear out,” Jack went on. “Rhodes apparently didn’t do that. He hung around, waiting for a chance to move in.” “And maybe he created that chance!” suggested Willie. “Maybe he did away with Corning himself! I’ll bet the tale about Carlos swooping down here is a phony!” “It might be,” Mr. Livingston conceded. “That part should be easy to check, if we can talk with the natives. Some of them must speak a little English.” “Rhodes has moved in here to further his own interests, and he doesn’t give a hoot what became of Appleby Corning,” Willie expanded his theory. “It’s to his advantage not to have him found.” “That’s so,” agreed Jack. “Getting rid of Corning may have been part of a well-planned scheme. If it’s true that Rhodes came here only ten days ago, it’s unlikely he’d have had time to get word to his wife.” “Yet she knew he was in charge here days ago!” Ken exclaimed. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have made the trip.” “I’m terribly afraid Appleby has been the victim of treachery,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “We’ve got to learn what became of him, and not depend on Rhodes’ word either.” “We might drive him into a corner, and try to force the truth out of him,” War proposed. The others vetoed his suggestion. “That wouldn’t get us anywhere,” Mr. Livingston objected. “Rhodes controls the natives here. His word is law.” “Can’t we organize search parties?” Willie asked. “In this jungle growth?” Jack caught him up. “It would be worse than looking for a needle in a haystack! Without a clue as to Carlos’ hide-out, we’d lose ourselves, and never find Corning.” “That’s the way it looks to me,” Mr. Livingston admitted. “Another thing, I’m not fully convinced that my friend was seized by bandits. Our first job is to confirm that fact.” “Rhodes won’t do anything to help us,” Ken said. “Where do we start?” “While you fellows get settled, I’ll amble around to see what I can learn,” Jack offered. Once outside the office building, curiosity led him toward the V-shaped pit where stocky Indians labored with crowbar and pick. A vein of beryl lay exposed. With infinite skill, the laborers shattered the rock, taking care not to smash the calcite or the emeralds. Eagerly, Rhodes examined the exposed gems. But the take did not satisfy him. With an exclamation of rage, he struck one of the workers in the face. The fellow stumbled backward against the rocks. A small object rolled from his gnarled hand. Only then did Jack realize that Rhodes’ anger had been caused by the native’s thievery. The engineer seized the gem and dropped it into his leather pouch. His gaze fell upon Jack who stood watching. “Get out of here!” he ordered harshly. “No one is allowed near the vein except the workmen! Believe me, I have enough trouble watching them. They steal me blind!” “You or the company?” Jack asked, irked by the engineer’s unwarranted attack. “The company,” Rhodes corrected himself. “Every gem taken from this mine is accounted for, I assure you. But the vein’s playing out. A new pit must be opened, or the mine soon will close down.” Jack made no reply for his eyes were on the fallen workman. The fellow had no shoes, his trousers were ragged, and his shirt torn. It was his gaze however, that held the Scout’s attention. The man was eyeing Rhodes with a deep, smoldering hatred. The engineer himself became aware of the expression. Ignoring Jack for the moment, he strode over and bestowed a savage kick upon the fallen one. “Thieving leech!” he berated him. “Stupid, stealing fool!” His wrath expended, the engineer again turned upon Jack. “Didn’t I ask you to get out of here?” he asked coldly but with his voice now carefully controlled. “No one is allowed in the pit. It’s a company rule.” “I’m sorry,” Jack apologized. “I’ll leave. You needn’t worry, though, about any of the Scouts taking your emeralds.” “No?” The engineer flashed an amused smile. “Son, if you’re here long enough, you may find their lure irresistible. Many a murder has been committed for an emerald—here at this mine too.” “Appleby Corning being the latest victim?” “Carlos has preyed upon this mine for years,” Rhodes replied, not answering Jack’s question directly. “He’s a bad actor.” “Why doesn’t someone clean out his gang?” “This isn’t the United States,” Rhodes retorted. “The authorities can’t be bothered. Now will you move out and stop asking so many questions? You hinder me.” Jack nodded and climbed out of the pit, but not before he had made careful note of the fallen workman. He would remember the face. Later, if he approached the matter right, the man might talk. Leaving the pit, he sought his companions, who had pitched their tents in a sheltered area some distance from the huts. “Learn anything, Jack?” Ken accosted him as he came up. “Not yet. Rhodes drove me out of the mine.” “We took a look at that hut Rhodes assigned to us,” Willie informed him in disgust. “It’s the worst looking hole in the place. We figure he wanted to make it as tough as possible for us.” “Where’s Mrs. Rhodes?” “She’s moved into the best place in the diggings, with her husband.” Ken pointed to a well-built frame structure near the main office. “That must have been where Appleby Corning lived.” “I wish we could look through his papers,” Mr. Livingston said. “We might run into something that would help.” “What sort of clue?” Jack questioned, staring thoughtfully toward the hut. “I don’t actually know, Jack. But there’s more to this raid and kidnapping than Rhodes has told us.” “Maybe we can get in and look around.” “Not now at any rate,” Mr. Livingston rejected his proposal. “Mrs. Rhodes is in there. We saw her go in a few minutes ago.” “She knows we’re here, but she just ignores us,” added War. “Suits me fine.” Leaving Jose, War and Willie to unpack the equipment, the other three started toward the office. Enroute, Jack told of the beating Rhodes had inflicted upon the peon. “It doesn’t surprise me,” Mr. Livingston commented. “Rhodes is a brute!” “The man was trying to steal an emerald,” Jack admitted. “Obviously, he hates Rhodes and probably would like to get even. I’ll talk to him at the first opportunity.” “You may not get anything,” Mr. Livingston advised. “Jose might have better luck. At least, he could draw the fellow out better, and Rhodes wouldn’t be suspicious if he saw them together.” “I never thought of Jose!” Jack exclaimed. “That’s the ticket!” The three had reached the little office on the rise of land. An outer door stood open to the breeze. Jack was surprised to see that Rhodes had left the pit and now was inside the building. His back was to the approaching trio. He had squatted before the big safe, and deftly was turning the dials. Involuntarily, the three halted, alerted by the engineer’s tense attitude. Why, they wondered, did he act so furtively, as if engaged in a dishonest act? The big safe door swung open. Rhodes reached in and drew out a long, cardboard box. Dipping in his hand, he lifted out a fistful of green emeralds. Gloatingly, as a miser would gaze at his hoard of gold, he fondled the gems. The watchers saw him compare some of the larger emeralds with those taken from his leather pouch. “There’s something fishy about this!” Jack muttered. “Didn’t he tell us that ten days ago, Carlos broke into the safe and took all the emeralds? Why, that handful must represent weeks of digging!” His voice, though scarcely above a whisper, had carried inside the building. Startled, Rhodes suddenly straightened. Seeing the three just outside the door, he thrust all the gems back into the box and hurriedly locked the safe. |
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