  Scrambling over rocks and through a tangle of vines and bush, the two Scouts sought to obtain the cylinder before the mining engineer could do so. At the risk of a bad fall, Jack half slid down a steep slope. The cylinder had tumbled into a crevice but he retrieved it before Rhodes could get there. There was no opportunity to examine the message. In a matter of moments, Rhodes had joined him, moving cautiously because of his useless arm. “Let me have that cylinder!” the engineer ordered. Jack shook his head. Turning his back, he started to climb the rocks to rejoin Ken on a ledge above. “Your friends dropped a message!” Rhodes accused. “You’re working with them to make it hard for me here! What’s your game?” Jack still made no answer. He climbed steadily, handing the cylinder up to Ken who passed it on to Mr. Livingston. Impeded by his injured arm, Rhodes had to climb very slowly. While Ken and Mr. Livingston went to their camp with the retrieved cylinder, he waited to give the engineer a helping hand up the steepest part of the slope. Rhodes did not thank him. Instead, the engineer gazed at the youth with undisguised hatred. “You and your friends have ruined me here!” he asserted wrathfully. “Except for you, everything would have gone off well. What was the reason for that plane circling this camp?” Jack’s answer was a smile and a shrug. “All right, don’t answer!” Rhodes snapped. “But if you think you’ve won this little game, you have another guess coming! I might have helped you find Corning. Now I’ll never do it!” With that, the engineer strode off to the cottage. Jack quickly joined Mr. Livingston and Ken at the tent camp. The other two had opened the cylinder and already were scanning the somewhat lengthy message from Ken and Willie. “Read it aloud,” Jack urged. “Okay,” Mr. Livingston agreed. “Rhodes isn’t sneaking up here to listen, is he?” “He went to the cottage in a dreadful fury,” Jack answered. “I’ll keep an eye out for him though.” Mr. Livingston began to read slowly so that every word of the message could be grasped. “Emerald sample assayed. Highly favorable—” “Highly favorable!” Ken broke in excitedly. “Then Rhodes lied again!” Mr. Livingston nodded and read on: “Mrs. Rhodes tried several tricks, substituting poor grade emeralds for one of top quality. Certain she is teamed up with Ferd Baronni on deal to defraud company. We went over their heads and got the emerald sample to higher officials.” “Good lads!” Jack chuckled. “I knew we could depend on ’em. What else do they say?” Mr. Livingston continued to read: “Only visible habitation in mine area a group of huts above Emerald Valley. This may be bandit hide-out. Returning to Bogota.” A map had been included with the hastily scrawled message. Studying it, Mr. Livingston and the Scouts estimated that the cluster of huts might be about seven miles from the mining camp in the more rugged area. A portion of the way could be traveled by means of the narrow trail which gave access to the outside world. But to reach the hide-out, if such it was, would require a hard trek over a bisecting path in a densely overgrown area. “Willie and War have done their part well,” Mr. Livingston asserted. “Now the rest is up to us.” “Maybe we can get in there,” Jack urged. “It’s a cinch we’ve learned all we can here. No use hanging on even another day.” “When do we start?” Ken demanded, eager to be off. “Right away?” “We may as well,” the Scout leader nodded. “We can let Rhodes assume we’re starting for Bogota.” “How about taking Phillipe along?” Jack suggested. “Good idea, if you can persuade him,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “With the camp here closing down, he should be willing to come with us, and he’ll be useful. See what you can do, while Ken and I round up the mules.” Jack found Phillipe in his shack, sharing a meal with his family. However, nothing he could say would induce the miner to become a member of the exploring party. Firmly, the man rejected an offer of money. “Senor, I am not a coward,” he said, “but I would not face Carlos in his own lair! No, Senor. You are very brave to attempt it.” Discouraged by his failure to interest Phillipe in the expedition, Jack started back to the tent camp. In passing the little office, he heard someone stirring around inside, and impulsively opened the door and peered in. Rhodes was in the inner room, beside the safe. For a moment he did not hear or see the youth. The engineer was deeply engrossed in emptying the vault of valuables, including the little box of newly mined emeralds. “So the vein has been producing?” Jack remarked to draw the man’s attention. Rhodes whirled around, thrusting the emeralds into his pocket. “These samples are worthless,” he muttered, his eyes smoldering. “Then why bother to take them with you? You are leaving, aren’t you?” “That’s right,” Rhodes returned with a sneer. “I’m shaking the dust of this mine from my feet forever. Why should I worry what becomes of the place or whether bandits take over as soon as I’ve cleared out? Why should I worry about the company? Did it ever do anything for me?” “Going to Bogota?” “I am! I’ll be away from here within the hour, to join my wife. I hope I never see you or the lousy place again!” “Corning?” “What about him?” “You’re not forgetting that he’s still missing? A prisoner probably of the bandit, Carlos?” “Corning is nothing to me, and I don’t mind telling you so! Didn’t he set himself up here as engineer in my place? He made me look bad to the company—convinced them that I was stealing half the emeralds that were mined.” “You weren’t, of course.” “If I could salvage anything for myself, I’d be entitled to it,” Rhodes retorted. “I gave the best years of my life to the company for very little return. I’m fed up! I’m getting out.” “Before you leave, why not tell us what really became of Corning?” Jack urged earnestly. Rhodes slammed the safe door shut and turned slowly to face the Scout. For just an instant, Jack was hopeful that the engineer meant to make a full revelation of the facts. Then, the man’s mood changed again. “I’ve told you exactly what happened,” Rhodes said shortly. “Carlos raided the place and took Corning as hostage. There’s been no ransom demand, so I assume your friend is dead.” “Mr. Livingston never will be satisfied unless we establish the truth.” “Let him go ahead if he wants to,” Rhodes shrugged. “Who’s stopping him?” “You know this country well. You could help us if you would.” “I’m heading for Bogota to join my wife! Nothing will make me change my mind.” “At least tell us where Carlos has his hide-out.” “I haven’t the slightest idea. He shifts from place to place. To find Carlos would be very much like chasing a humming bird.” Jack realized that it was useless to try to obtain the cooperation of the engineer. Giving up, he went back to report to Mr. Livingston and Ken. “I’m almost certain he’s made a big haul of emeralds and is taking the pile to Bogota for his own use,” he concluded his account. “What’ll we do? Try to stop him?” “He’s armed,” the Scout leader pointed out. “Besides, we have no absolute proof that he won’t turn the gems over to Baronni when he reaches the home office.” “We’ll return to Bogota with him?” “Not with him, Jack. We’ll trail along behind to see if we can find that village Willie and War spotted from the air.” The Scouts resumed their packing. Long before they had finished, they saw Rhodes ride away from camp, carrying only the necessities of the trail. After giving the engineer a little start, the Scouts followed. Burdened by camping equipment, they fell farther and farther back. As dusk approached, they began to feel uneasy lest they lose him entirely. “I don’t like to make camp after dark,” Mr. Livingston said. “On the other hand, if Rhodes can press on, I guess we can too.” Eager to make time, the Scouts did not halt to cook supper. Instead, they ate cold snacks as they jogged on over the uneven trail. Presently, they gained on Rhodes and in the gathering darkness dimly could make out his figure ahead. The party approached the bisecting path which Willie and War had marked on their crude map dropped from the plane. Mr. Livingston was consulting it with a shielded flashlight, when Jack, who was leading, suddenly halted his mule. “Hey, what’s the idea?” Ken demanded. “Rhodes is at the trail junction!” Jack informed him in a whisper. “Something’s wrong! I think he’s been held up!” “Held up!” Ken echoed, peering ahead. “Jeepers!” From the bushes on the trail some distance below them, a dapper little man had emerged. By his body build, the Scouts were sure that it was Carlos, the bandit. Though they could not see plainly, they knew that the man must have the engineer covered. “We haven’t been detected yet,” Jack warned in a whisper. “Those sharp bends in the trail protected us from view. Let’s see what happens!” The Scouts could hear heated conversation in Spanish and Rhodes’ violent protests. But they were to no avail. The engineer was forced to dismount and set his mule free. Carlos then ordered him to start afoot ahead of him up the steep bisecting trail. “Can you beat that!” Jack muttered. “Rhodes a captive! What do we do? Try to rescue him?” “He’s not worth the trouble,” Ken said in disgust. Mr. Livingston, however, had another opinion. “Evidently, Rhodes is being taken to the bandit village,” he said thoughtfully. “The one Willie and War spotted. This, I think, is our chance!” “To trace Corning?” supplied Jack. Mr. Livingston nodded as he dismounted. “We’ll have to rescue Rhodes, but there’s no great hurry. Let’s follow Carlos and his captive for awhile, and learn where the trail leads.” |
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