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""And all we need," commented Biff, studying the mirrored sunset in the
placid water, "is for a bore to come roaring down the lake. This water
buggy would really wind up in a happy daze. "Even that imaginary menace was ended when they reached their
destination, a houseboat named _Pride of the Deodars_. This was a stout
ship in its own right, measuring 120 feet from "stem to stern" as Biff
put it, with a width or beam of 16 feet.Before taking off from New
Delhi, Colonel Gorak had engaged the _Pride of the Deodars_ for their
overnight stay in Srinagar and had come directly here while the boys
were taking their river trip.Smilingly, the colonel showed them through an actual floating mansion,
for the _Pride_, as the boys promptly called it, had a huge living room
and a sizable dining room, each with a fireplace, plus three bedrooms
with private baths.A native chef served a tasty dinner from the ample
kitchen. After the meal, the boys went to the living room.They were
seated in front of the fireplace, when a light glimmered cautiously from
the water close by, and they heard a shikara scrape alongside the
_Pride_. "Barma Shah," stated Colonel Gorak. "I contacted him at the address in
Simla. "Gorak turned to Biff. "I have never met him, so you can
introduce us." When Barma Shah entered, he was wearing his beret and tinted glasses, as
excellent a disguise as ever, for when he removed them, his complexion
changed in color and his face seemed to broaden, probably because of his
widespread ears.His high forehead and short-clipped hair were
deceptive, too, for the beret had hidden them well. Colonel Gorak nodded
his approval. "I can understand why you have managed to stay undercover," Gorak
declared. "I have dozens of reports from men who have contacted you at
one time or another"--the colonel gestured to an attache case on the
table--"but not one could give more than a vague description of you. ""Unfortunately, most of those who knew me best are gone," returned Barma
Shah, in a regretful tone. "They were marked for death, as I have been." "I know that," nodded Colonel Gorak. "All of you were in constant danger
from all sides when you tried to quell those riots between rival
factions, especially in Calcutta." "The danger still is great," declared Barma Shah, "and that is why I
show myself so seldom.During the past year or more, only two men really
met me face to face, so far as learning my identity. One was Diwan
Chand; the other, Thomas Brewster.Recently, of course"--he gestured
toward Biff and his companions--"I told these boys who I was, because
once I was clear of Calcutta, I felt the need for secrecy was gone. So
now"--Barma Shah finished with a bow--"we meet at last, Colonel Gorak. ""And the meeting is a timely one," returned Gorak, "because you are the
man who can help us most." The colonel spread a large map of Kashmir on the table, ran his finger
from Srinagar eastward to Leh, the principal city of Ladakh.Then he
inched it, zig-zag fashion, toward the boundary between India and Tibet,
which was marked with a dotted line, indicating its uncertainty. "Charles Keene will meet you in Leh," explained Colonel Gorak, "or at
one of your later stopping points.When you reach the vicinity of
Chonsi--wherever it may be--you will be contacted and guided to that
lost city." Barma Shah looked up, slightly puzzled. "You aren't coming with us,
Colonel Gorak?" he asked. "No.This is not a military mission, nor even an official expedition. Mr. Brewster went there on his own and personally promised to deliver
the Rajah's ruby to the Chonsi Lama, once the gem was found.Since the
descendants of the Rajah were supposed to deliver it to the successor of
the Lama, tradition demands that Mr. Brewster's promise be fulfilled by
his son. "Again, in keeping with tradition, the boy should be accompanied by
someone close of kin, so we have chosen his Uncle Charles for that
purpose.And since you, Barma Shah, played the vital part in recovering
the lost ruby, you are entitled to go along as its temporary guardian." As Colonel Gorak finished, Barma Shah smiled. "You should have picked Diwan Chand for my job," he said, "but as for
going along, I don't think Diwan Chand would have. So I guess I'll have
to do." "You will do very well. Any more questions?" "Just one, Colonel. What about the Chonsi Lama?Have you any reports on
him?" "Nearly twenty years ago," stated Colonel Gorak, "the Chonsi Lama
visited Leh and received a tremendous ovation.He was then a man in his
early thirties and impressed all who met him with his great vigor and
his keen mind. In the years since, the Chonsi Lama has preserved the
balance of the border.He has refused to listen to the demands of
dictators who have tried to curb his power. They are unable to oust him
because they cannot find him." "And all the while his influence has increased?" Barma Shah inquired. "Yes.Today, the Chonsi Lama is regarded as one of the wisest men in the
East and, without a doubt, the most mysterious. No one has seen him
since that time in Leh, but he has been heard from often, and his
well-weighed decisions have increased his fame.Now in his early
fifties, he is probably at the peak of his career--that is, if Lamas
have careers. When one dies, his spirit is supposed to be reincarnated
in an infant born at that same time, who then continues on as a Living
Buddha. "Biff and the other boys wanted to hear more on that intriguing subject,
but Barma Shah asked:
"Will anyone block us between Leh and Chonsi?" "One man will if he can," returned Gorak grimly. "That is Bela Kron, who
heads the international spy ring.Have you ever run across him here in
India?" "No, but I would like to." Barma Shah gritted his teeth and clenched his
fists. "I would repay him in kind for the way he tortured some of my
friends." "I know. "Colonel Gorak tapped the attache case significantly. "The
reports are all in here. But would you recognize Bela Kron if you saw
him?" "No, because I could not possibly have met him.Brewster may have,
around those mines in Bildapore, but Bela Kron would have been very
wary, any time he came to Calcutta." That ended the conference for the evening.Tingling with excitement, the
boys found it difficult to go to sleep, even in the luxurious houseboat. When they finally did drop off, the night seemed very short indeed, for
Colonel Gorak woke them early for their morning flight to Leh.The five-hundred-mile trip was interesting, for below, the boys saw
samples of the rugged terrain that they would have to cover later on.The nearest thing to a road was a crude trail that led through mountain
passes twelve thousand feet in altitude, where the plane flew low
between the hemming Himalaya ranges.There were occasional squatty
villages and Buddhist monasteries perched high upon the mountainsides. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
These gave an idea of what Chonsi would be like if ever they found the
place.The immediate objective was Leh, and it proved interesting when they
landed there.Though a town of only a few thousand inhabitants, its
bazaars showed a mingling of many races including tribes in outlandish
costumes, for this was the trade center where goods came in from Tibet
by caravan.Biff and his companions found the equipment ready and the
arrangements all made for their trek to the border. But Charles Keene
and his Cessna had not yet arrived. For two full days they waited, with the strain continually increasing.The only news was a roundabout report from Katmandu, stating that the
Cessna had put down there and then resumed its flight, on the very day
that Biff and his companions had flown from New Delhi up to Srinagar.On
the third day, Colonel Gorak, who had come along this far, decided that
the caravan must start. Barma Shah agreed. "There is still a chance that your uncle's plane made a safe landing,"
Gorak told Biff. "But by now he will suppose that you have left Leh, so
there is no need of staying here." "In fact, it would be a mistake," declared Barma Shah, "for your uncle
has our schedule and may be expecting us at one of the stopping posts.We are already a day late, but the first two stages are short, so we can
make them in a single day." Paced by plodding, heavily laden yaks, they made the required distance
by nightfall.Their course was toward the glistening mountains to the
south, but the whiteness that worried Biff was not the snow upon the
Himalayan summits. The thick clouds surrounding the lower levels were
the menace.They filled the passes and the valleys beyond, the only
places where the plane could have made a landing. By morning the clouds were heavier still, and Barma Shah was anxious to
make an early start because of the threatening snow.Biff pleaded with
him to wait, so they did for another hour, studying the increasing snow
clouds. "It's no use," Barma Shah decided finally. "We can hardly see the slopes
now. Anyone coming through those passes would have to turn back. "Biff nodded hopelessly. But as he took one last look through a pair of
field glasses, he was sure he detected motion in the distant haze. Then,
against the snowy background, he saw three figures.One paused as they
struggled forward and waved his arms in a characteristic gesture. Excitedly, Biff exclaimed, "Uncle Charlie! "XVI
The Bamboo Bridge
Biff and the three boys with him started forward on the run to meet
Charles Keene and his companions.They soon saw that one of the pair was
Li, and since the other was about his size, it only took one guess for
Biff to name him: "Chuba!" But by the time the two groups met, Biff had
another name in mind as well.The first words he put were:
"Where's Muscles? Wasn't he along with you?" "Muscles is all right," Charles Keene assured him. "We are, too, but we
had to speed up our pace the last few miles, otherwise we wouldn't have
made it.When I get a cup of hot coffee, I'll tell you all about it." Li and Chuba were just too winded to talk at all. When they reached the
caravan, Barma Shah decided to delay the start until they had rested.That gave Charles Keene time to tell their story. He related how clouds
had enveloped their plane high in the Himalayas. "Rather than hit a mountain," he said, "we chanced a landing in a
valley.Fortunately it was a deep one, and the fog hadn't fully settled. All of a sudden, green fields smacked right up at us. We banged up the
plane some, but not too badly. What happened next was the odd part. "Charles Keene paused to drink half his cup of coffee in one long,
grateful swallow. Meanwhile, Li and Chuba couldn't wait to pick the
story up from there. "A lot of natives wearing goat skins came rushing up to the plane,"
declared Li. "We thought they were going to mob us." "They were shouting '_Yeti! Yeti!_' over and over," put in Chuba, "but
before we could find out what they meant, Muscles went after them. You
should have seen them run." Charles Keene laid aside his empty cup. "Later, they came creeping back," he said, "and we made friends with
them. So we didn't ask what they meant by shouting--"
He stopped suddenly, as Barma Shah made frantic gestures for silence.A
Ladakhi porter was standing by, staring with dark, narrowed eyes. Barma
Shah told the man to bring some more hot coffee. Then, when he was gone,
Barma Shah confided:
"Don't mention the word Yeti to these people.You have heard of the
giant ape-man of the Himalayas, haven't you? The creature they call the
Abominable Snowman? That's their name for it: Yeti--"
"I remember now!" exclaimed Charles Keene. "I was sure I'd heard the
word before.But I thought that yarn was spiked long ago." "Not in these mountains," rejoined Barma Shah. "Here in Ladakh, as well
as Kashmir, Sikkim, Bhutan, Nepal, Tibet, and even as far away as
Yarkand, the Yeti is very real.The natives will run away if they even
think such a creature is around." "And we thought they meant the plane!" exclaimed Li. "Yes, because we came down from the sky like a big bird," added Chuba. "Bigger than they ever saw before. ""They may have blamed the Yeti for bringing such a monster," commented
Barma Shah. "But here comes the porter with the coffee. So let us avoid
the word from now on." "But where is Muscles?" queried Biff. "Back in the valley, looking after the plane," explained his uncle. "Some of the tribesmen--_Sherpas_ they call themselves--guided us over
to the mountain pass and then returned to their valley.We miscalculated
slightly or we would have been here sooner." Despite the delay, the caravan completed its next stage ahead of the
impending snowstorm.The patient yaks, creatures that resemble both the
ox and the American buffalo, with long hair like the fleece of a sheep,
responded to continued prodding as though they recognized the need for
hurry.Tikse, the chief porter and head yak driver, had a comment on
that score. "Listen and you hear yak grunt," he told the boys. "That means two
things." "And what are those?" asked Biff. "One thing, yak like what happen, yes.Other thing, yak do not like what
happen, no." "And how," queried Mike, "do you tell the grunts apart?" "No way to tell," replied Tikse. "Yak grunt the same exactly, whichever
way he feel. But it is important just the same. ""And what makes it so important," demanded Li, "if you don't know the
difference?" "You do know the difference," returned Tikse. "When yak give grunt, he
feel one way or other, maybe both. When yak do not give grunt, yak do
not care. ""But why," asked Chuba, "should yaks feel both good and bad?" "These yaks feel good," explained Tikse, "because they know they get to
shelter ahead of snow. They feel bad because we make them hurry. So they
say both things with one grunt. Simple. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
"It looked simple indeed when they reached the day's goal, a small patch
of grazing ground where dried grass spread to the foot of rocky slopes. There were stone huts for the members of the party and similar shelters
for the yaks.The reason stones had been used in the construction was
because there were plenty of them lying around; and nothing else. The
roofs of the buildings were made of rough boards, covered with thatched
leaves.They weren't nailed down because they didn't have to be. The
builders had simply placed big stones on the roofs. The boys turned in early and slept late, snug in their sleeping bags and
shoulder to shoulder in their huts.In the morning it took three of them
to ram the door open, the snow was so deep. But the yaks were up, ready
and grunting--some because they liked snow; others because they hated
it. The yaks pulled the party through.They bulldozed their way through the
snow, chest deep, clearing it like living snowplows, so that the people
had no difficulty following them. Oddly, as the trail climbed higher, it
led to barren ground, totally free from snow.Apparently, the storm
clouds hadn't managed to gain that altitude. Early that afternoon, the party halted at a roaring mountain stream and
stared at the remnants of a crude wooden bridge that had been washed
away by the flood.Sadly, Tikse petted one yak after another, while the
porters relieved the stolid beasts of their burdens. The boys watched
Tikse turn the yaks over to two other Ladakhis, who promptly drove them
off along the trail. Barma Shah explained the situation. "We'll have to make a footbridge," he stated, "before the water rises
too high. So Tikse is sending the yaks on to another shelter. From now
on, the porters will carry our packs. "All the while, Biff could hear a chopping sound from a short way up the
narrow, turbulent stream. There was a sudden crash, and a tree came
toppling down to bridge the raging torrent. Chandra appeared from the
brush, carrying a heavy hand-axe. "Bridge already set," reported Chandra. "It just needs one thing more--"
"It needs much more. "The interruption came from a squatty, broadly
built porter named Hurdu, as he tested the tree with a clumsy foot. "We
need ten more trees like this." "We need a rail for the bridge," declared Chandra calmly. "Can somebody
bring me a rope? "Biff supplied a rope, and Chandra hitched one end around a tree. Like a
monkey, he scrambled across the fallen tree, carrying the free end of
the rope with him.A single slip and Chandra would have gone into the
flood, which probably would have pleased Hurdu, who was watching
intently. But Chandra was across in no time and promptly hitched the
rope to a tree on the opposite bank, drawing it taut as he did. "Now, walk across log bridge," called Chandra, "and hold on to rope
rail." Biff shouldered a pack and followed instructions, keeping his eyes fixed
straight ahead, not on the furious current, which would have distracted
him.With one hand on the rope, it was simple to steady himself while he
advanced one foot, then the other. A dozen steps and he was over. Now
the other boys were following his example. That was all the porters
needed.They hoisted their full burdens, eighty pounds to a man, and
stalked across Chandra's simple bridge in regular procession.Charles Keene and Barma Shah followed, as did Tikse and Hurdu, though
the last two exchanged glares before they started and after they had
crossed.Now that the yaks had gone their way, a dispute appeared to be
in the making as to who was the chief guide of the party. Both Tikse and
Hurdu wanted that honor.The narrow path made a steep ascent up the side of a high cliff, and
before the porters were out of sight of Chandra's crude bridge, they saw
the surging stream carry it away. Time had been the all-important
factor, where that crossing was concerned.But an hour later, the party
came to something much more formidable. The trail swung along the fringe of a tremendous, steep-walled gorge a
thousand feet in depth and a hundred or more across.Down below, a river
thundered like a hungry dragon, ready to devour any human prey. Chandra
was pleased to see that this chasm was already bridged, for he could
have done nothing with his hand-axe.The bridge was of a suspension type, so crude and flimsy of construction
that it seemed to hover in midair. Yet it evidently was strong enough,
for Barma Shah, who was up in front, started across without hesitation.Tikse and Hurdu were close behind him, followed by the long procession
of porters with their heavy packs. As Biff paused to look for the other
boys, he found Chuba close beside him. As usual, Chuba had a saying to
fit the situation. "Tikse and Hurdu agree on something at last," declared Chuba. "Wise man
never argue when it prove another man right." "You've got something there," laughed Biff, as he watched Tikse and
Hurdu practically crowd each other across the bridge. "Neither could
afford to hesitate, or he'd be admitting that the other was boss." "From the look of that bridge," observed Li, "both were lucky to get
across. The same goes for us--if we make it. "Considering that the bridge's cables were composed of twisted strands of
bamboo and rattan, with hanging vines dangling like ropes to support the
roadway, Li had a point. But the other boys didn't agree.They had seen
and crossed many such primitive bridges: Chuba in Burma, Chandra in
India, Kamuka in Brazil, and Mike in Mexico. Though the porters crossed
at a safe distance apart, they didn't begin to tax the bridge to its
capacity.That was proven when the boys reached the bridge and saw that its
runway, fashioned from strips of bamboo laid crosswise, was wide enough
to drive a yak across. As the boys crossed the bridge two abreast, Biff
spoke to Chandra, who was beside him. "Now I see why Hurdu wanted to chop down more trees back at the little
stream. We could have brought the yaks along. Why wasn't Tikse in favor
of that?" "I saw Tikse pet the yaks and say good-by," returned Chandra. "He made
grunts, like yak, saying he was both glad and sorry. Sorry because yaks
had to go. Glad because it gave jobs to porters instead." "You're right!" exclaimed Biff. "Colonel Gorak said the bearers were not
to receive full pay until they actually took over." The tremendous roar of water echoed up from the steep-walled gorge,
drowning further conversation until the boys were across.It might have
been imagination, but Biff felt that the bridge quivered as he left it,
so he turned to look back while Chandra, still beside him, was laying
his pack on solid ground.They had come between a pair of upright posts
that served as tower for the bridge; now they were close by the big
stakes to which the rope cables were moored. There, porters were
stacking their packs by dozens and sitting down to rest.There were still several porters on the bridge, all well spaced. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
Behind
them came Li and Chuba, for those two boys had stayed back to wait for
Charles Keene, who was bringing up the rear.Biff's uncle had taken on
that duty to "keep the parade moving" as he styled it, which meant that
he had been encouraging straggling porters in his own cheery, breezy
way.Li and Chuba were past the halfway mark and Uncle Charlie was almost
there when Biff saw the swaying bridge give a sudden shudder. Biff
thought for an instant that it was an earth tremor.Then he noticed that
the porters near him were chatting, quite unconcerned. Biff gave a
warning shout, too late. With a snap like a rifle report, the rope parted from the stake at
Biff's right.With it, the entire cable slipped on that side of the
bridge, tilting the runway downward.In a single second, Charles Keene,
Li, Chuba, and a pair of porters were sprawling on the slippery bamboo
slats, which had suddenly become a chute to certain doom in the abyss
below!XVII
The Monster of the Mountains
In the harrowing moments that followed, Biff saw two shapes go
slithering off the slanted bridge and continue spinning, tumbling in
huddled helpless fashion into the gaping jaws of the roaring gorge.Biff
shut his eyes as they disappeared, and his mind flashed back to those
tiny figures that he had seen against the snowy background of the
mountain pass. Uncle Charlie, Li, and Chuba.The boys were two of a size, like those
two forms that had just plunged from the collapsing bridge. So they must
be Li and Chuba--or else the two porters. But no, not the porters; those
somersaulting shapes weren't big enough.Biff tightened his fists grimly
as he opened his eyes for one last hopeless look. Biff was right: It wasn't the porters. At the first warning quiver of the bridge, they had dropped their heavy
burdens and made a desperate dive for safety.Nearly across, first one,
then the other, had managed to grab the high edge of the canted runway
and scramble to the ground beyond. But as Biff looked past them, his
eyes opened really wide. It wasn't Li or Chuba either!Both boys were still there, near the center of the bridge, with Uncle
Charlie! The moment the bridge had tilted one way and they had felt themselves
sliding with it, all three had made a frantic grab in the other
direction.Instinctively, they had gripped the upper side and the
slender grass ropes that supported it. They were still hanging on. What Biff had seen tumble into the gorge were the bulky packs that the
porters had flung aside.Those bulging burdens, when falling, had looked
exactly like a pair of huddled humans. Now, Uncle Charlie and the two
boys were lightening weight by letting their own packs follow the path
of the others. That still didn't guarantee them safety.The whole weight of the bridge
was now swaying on a single rope cable. Sooner or later it was sure to
snap; then all hope of rescue would be gone.Now, chunks of the runway
were breaking loose from the dangling ropes, which no longer bore their
proportionate shares of the weight. That produced a new dilemma.It was impossible for Uncle Charlie, Li, and Chuba to work their way
along that upper edge, because of the gaps. They would have to reach the
one remaining cable, climb it to the top of the tower post and come down
to the ground.Li and Chuba might manage it; but not Charles Keene, with
all his weight. Chandra had the answer. He had brought along the rope from his log
bridge. He tossed one end to Biff, saying, "Hang on tight! "Then,
carrying the other end, Chandra scrambled up the lone cable and
practically slid from the post top out to where Li and Chuba clung.There, Chandra, Li, and Chuba tied their rope end to the cable; while
Biff, Mike, and Kamuka hauled the rope taut and hitched the other end
around the tower post. That filled the gaps along the level route to safety.Chandra went
first, pausing to tie dangling liana strands to the new rope to keep it
from sagging. Li and Chuba followed, stopping to wait for Charles Keene,
even when he twisted one arm in the rope and waved them on with his
other hand.If Biff's uncle tired, they hoped to help him; but what
Uncle Charlie lacked in agility, he made up for in endurance.After minutes that proved long and nerve-racking for Biff and his
watching companions, the other boys reached solid ground with Charles
Keene right behind them.A moment later, Biff and the rest were swarming
around Uncle Charlie and congratulating him, while Barma Shah spoke
approvingly. "That was very good, indeed. And just in time, too. The wind is getting
brisker from the gorge.What is left of the bridge will soon be gone." At a combined order from Tikse and Hurdu, the bearers gathered their
packs. Then they were on their way again. As they veered away from the
gorge, Biff took a last look back.The remains of the bridge were
swinging like a hammock now, its single strand due to snap at any
moment. Chandra, who was walking beside Biff, touched his arm. "The rope, Biff,"
he said in a low voice. "Somebody cut it!" Biff stared at him. "Are you sure?" he gasped. When Chandra nodded, Biff
said soberly, "Then that means there's an enemy right in our own party. "That evening, when they pitched their tents in the shelter of some trees
on the rim of a rugged valley, Charles Keene remarked:
"Losing a few packs didn't hurt us, because we were short on porters
anyway." "Short on porters?" inquired Barma Shah."How?" "We had sixty yesterday morning, but there were only fifty-four when I
counted them as they crossed the log bridge. That's why I brought up the
rear, to see that no more of them skipped. "That news brought a grim expression to Barma Shah's face. In response,
he said:
"They may have heard our talk of Yeti. What is more, I saw some big
tracks in the snow before we broke camp yesterday.I obliterated them,
but perhaps some of the porters saw them first." That night it snowed again, though only lightly. In the morning, Biff
awoke to hear the camp babbling with excitement.He crawled from his
sleeping bag and emerged from the tent, where he promptly ran into
Chandra, who told him:
"Yeti tracks again. Hurdu found them on the hill." Biff joined Charles Keene and Barma Shah up near some barren rocks.The
tracks were much larger than a man's foot, but clumsy and roughly
formed. They led in from the rocks, then back again, as though some
creature had come down from the craggy hill toward the camp, only to
return to its lair.Some of the Ladakhi bearers were gabbing among themselves and repeating,
"Yeti--Yeti," much too often, as they walked along beside the big
footprints and compared them with their own smaller tracks.Back at
camp, Barma Shah conferred with Tikse, who gave the porters a pep-talk
in a mixture of Hindi and Ladakhi. They responded in grunts of
half-agreement as they gathered up their packs. "Those sound like yak grunts," declared Chuba. "Good and bad.They don't
want to go along, but anyway, they go." | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
"That is right," stated Chandra, who had caught the meaning of the
speech. "Tikse says they have to go along because they can't go back, as
there is no bridge across the gorge. "That night, the porters pitched their tents much closer together when
they camped. There was another light snow, and in the morning Hurdu
found new Yeti tracks beside a rocky slope nearby. Charles Keene was
frankly skeptical about them. "Anybody could have made them with a piece of brushwood," Biff's uncle
declared, "or in half a dozen other ways. But I guess Tikse can't
convince his crowd of that." "Tikse thinks they are Yeti tracks himself," returned Barma Shah. "That
is the real trouble." All day the Ladakhi porters kept watching the barren ground above the
tree line, for that was the high altitude at which the Yeti supposedly
dwelled. They quickened their pace and reached the next campsite well
before dusk.There, trouble seemed over, for this was a valley where two
trails crossed, and already a nomadic tribe was camped there. They
greeted the party from Leh and gladly sold them fresh provisions.That night, there was music and mirth around the campfires. The morning
dawned crisp but pleasant, for there was no sign of any snow. Nor was
there any sign of Tikse and his Ladakhi porters.They had pulled out at
dawn, taking the other trail the long way back to Leh, leaving only
Hurdu and a dozen others who were not Ladakhi.That automatically promoted Hurdu to chief guide, and when he suggested
hiring some of the nomad tribesmen as porters, Barma Shah favored the
idea, but asked for approval from Charles Keene, as joint leader of the
expedition.Biff's uncle was all for Hurdu's suggestion. "They look to me like Sherpas," he declared. "Like those friendly chaps
we met in the valley where we landed our plane." "They are not Sherpas," put in Chuba politely. "I listen to their talk,
Sahib Keene.They call themselves _Changpas_. They do not come from the
south, but from the north." "That means that they are not Nepalese," stated Barma Shah, "but
Tibetans.They are accustomed to these high altitudes perhaps better
than those who live in Ladakh or Nepal. What is more"--he lowered his
voice--"they have probably heard less about the Yeti. ""Then let's hire them quickly," returned Charles Keene, with a knowing
smile, "before they can change their minds." Hurdu hired the Changpa bearers, and the march was resumed.But the
nomads, though sturdier than the old crew from Leh, lacked their
steady-going qualities. They paused frequently to rest and eat, even
hinting that they might drop their packs and quit.So Barma Shah told
Hurdu to cut the day's trek short as soon as they reached a suitable
campsite. That went on for three days, which pleased Biff and the other boys, as
it gave them more time to roam at large.They had found little to talk
about with the porters from Leh, but this Changpa crew were mostly
hunters. They had brought throwing spears as well as bows and arrows,
and at every halt, they let the boys try the weapons.On the fourth morning, Biff awoke to find more snow on the ground. Nobody else was up, for the carefree Changpas were late risers. Glancing
off beyond the camp, Biff saw something that riveted him.Going back
into the tent, Biff wakened the nearest boy, who happened to be Chandra. Motioning for silence, Biff whispered: "Yeti tracks! Come on!" Chandra came, bringing his trusty hand-axe.Biff nodded approval and
promptly "borrowed" a throwing spear that was standing outside a Changpa
tent. He then led Chandra to the first of the marks that he had noticed
in the snow.They looked like footprints and big ones, half the size of
snowshoe tracks. Breathless, Chandra gestured back toward the camp. "Maybe we better call others?" "Not yet," returned Biff. "Let's see where these lead.Then we can plan
ahead, before everybody gets excited." The tracks led up the slope, but instead of ending there, they followed
a snow-covered ledge.Beyond that was a huge, chunky rock, and as Biff
glanced in that direction, he saw a great tawny figure with a shock of
thick, black hair, as it bounded from cover. Then it was gone, among another cluster of rocks.Biff was after it,
beckoning Chandra along, and they saw the thing again, as it sprang to
another snowy ledge. There it dropped to all fours, and by the time the
boys reached the ledge, it was gone again, but its footprints showed in
the patchy snow.The two boys passed a slight turn where the rocks rose
like jagged steps, tufted with snow. As Chandra started in that
direction, Biff noticed an arched gap in the jagged wall that rose
beside the ledge itself. Biff turned and called, "Wait, Chandra.There's a cave here--maybe
that's where he went--"
Chandra looked back, and his face froze with horror. He was too startled
even to shout a warning, but the look in his eyes, which were staring
straight past Biff, told enough.Instinctively, Biff wheeled about, then
recoiled as he turned his eyes upward. From the cleft in the rocky wall loomed a tremendous hulk of reddish
brown.Tiny eyes were glaring above wide-open, long-toothed jaws, while
massive, sharp-clawed paws clamped downward, inward, toward the boy's
dodging form.Biff Brewster was all but in the grip of a gigantic Tibetan bear, one of
the most dangerous creatures that roved those rocky heights!XVIII
The Frozen Waterfall
All that saved Biff at that moment was the Changpa spear that he had
snatched from outside a tent.He had the weapon in his hand, and as he
dodged, he jabbed the spear point at the creature from the cave. It was
puny compared to the bear's bulk, but it bothered the big beast. Clumsily, the bear batted aside the jabs, and that diverted its action.Biff now had time to dive away. He flung the spear as he went, but it
flew wide. Hardly had it clattered on the rocks before another weapon
whizzed past the bear's head: Chandra's hand-axe. Like Biff, Chandra
timed his throw too late.The bear was already dropping on all fours,
about to lope after Biff. Biff saw that in a glance and began thinking
fast. Bears, though clumsy, could move swiftly and would attack if angered,
which this one evidently was.Tibetan bears were death on yaks and
sheep; that Biff had also heard. Maybe they'd keep coming after them on
ledges like this, so there was no use acting like a sheep or a yak.Biff
halted suddenly and flattened himself against the rocky wall, ready to
reverse direction if the bear came bounding past.On the contrary, if it reared, Biff intended to be off again; and while
waiting that moment of decision, he took a quick look down toward the
campsite. That proved smart indeed.Instead of the area being all but
deserted, with everyone asleep, it literally teemed with action. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
Uncle
Charlie and Barma Shah were coming up the slope armed with rifles and
followed by half a dozen Changpa tribesmen, all with bows and arrows.All the other boys were coming, too, apparently shouting as loudly as
they could, but the wind was against them, which was why Biff hadn't
heard them. They were gesturing, though, and that he understood.Wildly,
all were waving for him to keep going along the ledge. That Biff would
have done anyway, for just now, the bear had arrived and was rearing for
another lunge. So Biff took off again, hoping that the ledge would lead
somewhere.That wasn't necessary. From behind him came the _ping_ of bullets as
they hit the ledge, followed by the boom of the actual gunshots from
below.Biff darted another quick look and saw arrows coming down from
the sky, with the rearing bear as their target. The bear hadn't budged
from its last position, except to set itself up for the marksmen.Suddenly bristling with arrows, it toppled, rolled sideways, and fell
from sight over the ledge. Everybody took credit for the kill, which they had a right to do. Uncle
Charlie had fired half a dozen shots and was sure that at least two had
landed.Barma Shah quietly showed Biff his rifle, which still had a
special gadget fitted above the barrel. "This time," Barma Shah confided, "it _was_ a telescopic sight. I only
use the flashlight beam at night. "As for the Changpa marksmen, there were six of them, and there were six
arrows in the dead bear. They knew which arrow was whose, because all
had identifying marks. They chattered among themselves, each claiming
that his shaft had been the best.They were still at it after their
comrades had carved the bear into steaks for the evening dinner at the
next campsite. That pleased Barma Shah, because nobody was interested in the Yeti
tracks any more.He mentioned this fact to Hurdu, who interpreted it to
the Changpas thus:
"You see what fools the Ladakhi are? Day after day, they see tracks in
the snow and think they are Yeti footprints. Instead, they are just bear
tracks.The big bear followed, hoping people have yaks that bear can
kill and eat. Instead, people kill bear and eat it. But people who kill
bear are Changpas, not Ladakhi! "When they stopped for a noonday meal, the Changpa bowmen were still
arguing whose arrow had killed the big bear.While the other boys were
watching and quietly getting a wallop out of the pantomime, Chandra drew
Biff aside and asked:
"Who do you think really killed the bear?" "Uncle Charlie fired a lot of shots," replied Biff, "And he may have
made some hits.After all, we didn't dig the bullets out of the carcass. But I know--and you know--that Barma Shah is a terrific marksman--"
"This is true," interposed Chandra. "But Barma Shah did not kill the
bear. The Yeti did." Biff stared amazed. "We saw Yeti," said Chandra. "Didn't we?" "We saw something go hopping up to the ledge," conceded Biff, "but when
we got there, out popped the big bear." "From the cave, yes, but I saw Yeti keep going up by rocks above." "So you said, Chandra.But are you sure?" "Sure I am sure. Because the number one shot that killed the bear, it
came from up there. Afterward, there was much shooting. But first, the
bear had gone like this. "Chandra gave a perfect imitation of the way the bear had stiffened on
the cliff. So Biff decided not to argue it. "You may be right," he told Chandra, "but let's keep it to ourselves. The Yeti is supposed to be right smart, maybe more man than ape.But to
class him as a expert rifleman, well, people just wouldn't go for it." "You go for it, Biff?" "I might go for anything, Chandra. "Biff let it go at that, because his own recollections of what had
happened on the ledge were somewhat confused, so he could allow for a
few mistakes on Chandra's part. Besides, there were more important
things to think about.The most important of all was brought up in an
odd way when they pitched camp late that same afternoon. Biff heard Li
and Kamuka begin one of their old arguments, while the other boys
gleefully listened in. "Well, Kamuka," commented Li in an indulgent tone, "now that you're high
in the Himalayas, how do the Andes stack up?" "Still bigger," returned Kamuka. "Anyway, they look bigger. That's
what's most important. "Kamuka looked for someone to agree, and he received an approving nod
from Chuba. "But there are things here that you won't find in the Andes," Li went
on. "For instance"--he caught himself when Biff gave him a warning
glance.Instead of mentioning Yetis, Li made a quick switch. "For
instance, we have Lamas. You don't have people like that in the Andes." "Sure we do," rejoined Kamuka. "Only they don't look like people. They
look like yaks. "That brought a laugh from Biff, in which Mike joined. Chandra and Chuba
were still puzzled, so Biff explained:
"Li means a Lama, spelled with one 'L' like Li. The Lamas are important
people. We are on our way to see one now.But Kamuka is talking about
llamas, spelled with a double 'l.' They are animals that carry packs in
the Andes, as yaks do here." Biff left it to Mike to go into further details on the subject while he
went over to talk to Uncle Charlie and Barma Shah.Biff put a simple
question. "How are we going to find Chonsi?" Biff asked them. "When will we hear
from the Grand Lama, the wisest man in the East?" "I don't know," began Barma Shah, "unless--"
His eyes narrowed as he spoke.He was looking off toward the nearest
mountain pass, and Biff, following his gaze, saw a tiny figure coming
toward them at a jog-trot. "What is it?" Biff asked anxiously. "Not--not a Yeti?" "No, no. "Barma Shah had raised a pair of binoculars and was studying
the approaching man. "It is a _longompa_, a special kind of runner, who
carries messages from one Lama to another. A longompa can keep up that
pace all day. ""And he may have a message for us?" "Very possibly." The rangy longompa never slackened speed until he pulled into the camp. There, in some uncanny fashion, he picked out the leaders of the party.But when he approached Barma Shah and Charles Keene, he did not hand
them the envelope he carried. Instead, he gave it to Biff.Then, with a
faraway stare, the runner started off again, oblivious to
everything--including the weather, for despite the freezing temperature,
he wore only a simple goat skin and a pair of open sandals.Biff opened the envelope and brought out a sheet of parchment which
proved to be a map. He showed it to Uncle Charlie and Barma Shah. Together, they studied it in the firelight, for it was now dusk.The map
puzzled them completely until Charles Keene declared: "I don't get it. Somebody has drawn what looks like a streak of lightning--"
"That's it! The Place of Living Thunder!" Barma Shah exclaimed.He brought out another map and spread it in the firelight. It showed the
whole course that the party had followed. Near the present campsite was
a zig-zag line, exactly like the one on the parchment, but on a smaller
scale. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
"It is a chasm a mile deep," explained Barma Shah, "but only half that
distance across. Nobody has ever gone there, because it is supposed to
be impassable." He traced a dotted line on the longompa's chart. "It
must lead to the Lost City of Chonsi.No wonder no one has ever found
it! We'll start for there tomorrow." They were off to an early start the next morning and soon were among
scenes of grandeur that surpassed any so far encountered.Narrow valleys
filled with odd, colorful flowers formed a contrast to the snow-topped
peaks that loomed high above. Then, abruptly, the trail reached the brim
of a deep, granite-walled canyon.Nearby was a cluster of trees
indicated on the parchment map. A dotted line began from there, so the
party moved into the grove.There they were halted by a big rock until
the boys probed the underbrush around it and found stone steps leading
downward. Soon, the whole procession was following a dizzy trail chiseled in the
canyon wall.Barma Shah had been right regarding its depth: it was at
least a mile and perhaps more.The vast gulch followed a zigzag as shown
on the map, and as they steadily descended, the brim of the gorge was
totally lost from view, due to the narrowing of the walls.Then, the zigzag sharpened, and on their own side of the gorge, they saw
a fascinating sight. Through an opening in the granite poured what
looked like a mammoth waterfall, except that it was utterly motionless.At the bottom, half a mile beneath, was a vast, glassy mass, pock-marked
by thousands of huge stones. "An icefall!" exclaimed Charles Keene. "A stream of water, frozen solid,
pouring down to a glacier below! "As he spoke, they saw a chunk of ice and rock drop from the brink and
slide out along the graceful, frozen curve until it dropped straight
down and struck the glacier.Then came a rising echo that reverberated
through the gorge like a long roll of thunder. When the sound finally
died away, Barma Shah said coolly:
"That is why they call it the Place of Living Thunder.People have heard
that roar from the brink above, but we are the first to see what caused
it--except for those who live in the valley." Their course brought them to the huge icefall.This time Charles Keene
and Barma Shah led the way together, followed by Hurdu and the Tibetan
bearers, with Biff and the boys bringing up the rear. The path seemed a
very safe one, being hewn in the solid rock.Granite steps took them
upward to the overhanging curve of the giant icefall. Above that, a
bridge of large steppingstones crossed the whitish flowing mass. Biff, in the lead, leaped to the first stone and felt it quiver.He
should have turned back, but instead, he tried to jump on to the next. The first stone suddenly went from under him, spilling Biff backward. Mike, who had reached the top of the steps, grabbed for Biff's hand and
caught it with both of his own.Then Mike was swept off balance by the
force of Biff's slide. Both would have gone skimming over the brink,
except that Chuba and Kamuka, coming next, were in time to catch Mike's
ankles and hold them.They hadn't the strength to pull the pair back, and Biff, from his
precarious position, realized why. That curving brink of perpetual ice
was so smooth that it offered nothing in the way of a hold, not even the
slightest amount of friction.Slowly, surely, the drag would bring all
four along, unless someone's hold gave out. In any case, Biff Brewster would be the first to slide out over that
fatal curve and plunge the half mile to the glacier below!XIX
The Lost City
From his hopeless perch, Biff heard Kamuka and Chuba shouting up above. "Come on, you fellows!" they yelled. "Lend a hand! "They were calling to
Li and Chandra, who were still coming up the granite steps, but it was
useless. Biff and Mike represented too much dead weight, even for all
four. Mike had Biff's wrist in a powerful grip.They were face to face as Biff
looked up and said, "You'll have to let go, Mike. They may be able to
haul you back, but not both of us." "It's both," gritted Mike, "or neither!" "But you'll only be dragging the others along, too.Can't you
understand?" "No." Mike grinned grimly as he was jolted upward. Then, as he slipped
back downward, he added, "Yes. "Mike realized that Li had joined Chuba and Kamuka; that with Li's
helping hand, they had managed a temporary lift, only to lose what
little they had gained. But Mike still gripped Biff. "Chandra will be helping them next," Mike said reassuringly. "With four
pulling, it will make a difference." "Yes, they'll manage to hold on a little longer," groaned Biff, "but it
can't change things, Mike. They still can haul you up, if you'll only
let go." "Only I _won't_ let go! "A sharp sound was beating through Biff's brain. It came,
"Crack--crack--crack--" in deadly monotone. He imagined he heard a new
voice too, Chandra's voice, saying, "I'll be there, Biff! "Then came the
"Crack--crack--" and again, "I'll be there--" closer, it seemed, and
just below. For the first time, Biff steeled his nerve and looked down. Chandra _was_ there!On the curving brink itself, hanging to the ice
where it was steeper than the spot where Biff himself was stretched. In
his hand, Chandra held his axe, which he had retrieved after hurling it
at the bear.With it, he was chopping into the ice, making those
"Crack--crack--" sounds. Chandra hadn't gone up the steps to join the
boys above. Instead, he had hacked steps of his own into the fringe of
the icefall!He'd made enough to gain hand and toeholds for himself. Working up from
those at an outward angle, he had literally chopped a slanted ladder,
climbing it as he did. Now he was denting the ice beside Biff's right
ankle.That done, he shoved Biff's right foot into place. Biff shifted
his weight in that direction. Instantly the strain on Mike lessened just
enough for him to open his half-closed eyes and stare downward in
wonder.Crack--crack--crack--
There was a toehold for Biff's left foot now. That really eased the
strain, for Mike's body immediately moved up a bit, pulled by the boys
above.Chandra kept hacking, more steps, higher; Biff kept climbing the
new ones, leaving the old to Chandra, who promptly followed. Then
suddenly, Mike was up to safety and they were hauling Biff up, too, when
he gasped:
"Wait! I'm bringing Chandra, too! "So Biff was, for by now Chandra was tiring. He clung to Biff's leg with
one hand and kept chopping steps with the other, just enough to work
himself up. Then hands from above gripped Chandra, and he and Biff were
hauled up side by side.Kamuka found a board from an old catwalk and used it to bridge the gap
across the missing steppingstone. One by one, the boys crossed the
frozen stream above the mammoth icefall.They found steps on the other
side and descended for nearly half a mile before they overtook the
party. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
Charles Keene, Barma Shah, Hurdu, and all the rest were waiting
on a great, wide lookout platform, viewing a stupendously breathtaking
scene.There, set in a tremendous niche across the mile-deep gorge, was the
Lost City of Chonsi. There were small stone huts in the foreground. These, if seen from straight above, would look like nothing more than
rock heaps.But the pride of Chonsi, the palace of the Grand Lama, rose
above a towering array of great stone steps and castellated walls
forming tier after tier of magnificent buildings to a height of nearly
five hundred feet, only to be dwarfed by the more tremendous mass of the
cliff that overhung it.From the top of the great gorge it would be impossible even to glimpse
this hidden wonder of the Himalayas in the massive hollow that had been
hewn to contain it.Yet its relation to the gorge was such that sunlight
streamed down into this secret setting during a good proportion of the
day. Barma Shah summed it up when he stated:
"There is an old saying: 'As long as the Himalayas stand, so will
Chonsi. 'Now I understand its meaning. If that cliff should tumble, the
city would fall, too." Amazed at the sight of the stupendous citadel, Biff did not tell his
Uncle Charlie and Barma Shah about his near-plunge from the icefall.Instead, he reminded them of his mission:
"The sooner we get over there, the quicker we will find my father." Both men agreed, but Barma Shah added, "You will have to see the Grand
Lama first. "That was the part that worried Biff most, though he didn't say so. Now
that he was practically at his goal, he felt shakier than ever, for the
Chonsi Lama now represented power on a vast scale, considering the size
of his secret stronghold.The party continued down the granite trail, which zigzagged to the
bottom of the canyon and there crossed a deep but narrow stream on a
bridge of simple logs.At the other side, they came to a great wall,
where gates were being swung wide to receive them. They were ushered in
by lesser lamas and other dignitaries, all wearing robes and costumes of
an ancient day. [Illustration: _There, across the mile-deep gorge, was the Lost City of
Chonsi_]
With Hurdu and the porters following, they were conducted up outer
steps, then deep beneath a portico and up more steps until they reached
a magnificently tiled inner courtyard, where they were bowed to rows of
benches.An elderly lama approached and gestured to Biff, as he said,
"You may come." Next, he addressed Charles Keene and Barma Shah. "You two may follow." Then, to the boys, "And you next." Pausing, he looked toward the porters
and asked, "Any of these? "Barma Shah decided to bring Hurdu and three others. So, in the order as
arranged, they entered another portico and climbed a short flight of
gilded steps into a reception room also decorated in gold.There, Biff
was told that he was to enter the throne-room of the Grand Lama alone,
while Charles Keene and Barma Shah were to be ready when summoned.Golden doors were opening when Uncle Charlie whispered to Biff,
"Remember, you're meeting one of the wisest men in the East, as I can
now believe. Pay close attention." To that, Biff nodded.Then, as
trumpets blared, he was ushered through the doors, clutching the ruby
that he had carried all along as his final passport to the Grand Lama's
presence.Then Biff reached a throne where a figure in great golden robes and
peaked hat awaited him. On each side stood a solemn dignitary, each in
similar robes. One asked in a droning tone, "You have brought the Light
of the Lama? "Then as Biff solemnly replied, "Yes," the other dignitary
ordered, "Give it to the Great One." No promises, no conditions, no mention of Biff's father. Just hand over
the ruby and hope for the best.With a bow, Biff produced the
magnificent red gem, which was glowing more vividly than ever. He placed
it in the Chonsi Lama's outstretched left hand. Then, hoping to ask the
obvious question, he looked up at the Great One.Biff gasped despite himself. Instead of viewing the austere visage of a
man in his mid-fifties, he was looking into the smiling, friendly face
of a boy no older than himself.Still weighing the ruby in his left
hand, the Chonsi Lama extended his right in greeting, as he said:
"Thank you, Biff! "XX
The Master Spy
Before Biff could recover from his astonishment, the Chonsi Lama nodded
to one of the men beside him.A moment later, a door opened in the side
of the room and Mr. Brewster entered, as brisk and smiling as when Biff
had last seen him. A glad meeting followed.Then, with his arm around
Biff's shoulder, Mr. Brewster approached the throne, where the youthful
Lama handed him the ruby, saying, "I know you would like to see this,
after all you have done to bring it here. "Biff suddenly felt very much at home with this boy who was so friendly
toward his father. "The ruby is sparkling now," said Biff, "but it changes sometimes and
turns dull. That worried Diwan Chand. ""Due probably to the setting," observed Mr. Brewster with a smile. "If
moisture gets beneath the gem, it detracts from the sparkle, but only
temporarily." "I am glad to hear that." The Chonsi Lama smiled, as he took back the
ruby. "I notice that its glow has lessened, and I do not care for bad
omens." As he placed the ruby in his robe, the Chonsi Lama turned to Biff again. "Your father told me much about you," he said. "That was one reason why
I wanted you to bring the ruby, as it was a good way to meet you. But we
weren't quite ready to tell the world that I am now the Chonsi Lama. At
last we can declare it." He turned to one of the robed dignitaries. "Usher in the others," he ordered. Then, as an afterthought, he added,
"Bring the boys in first. "As Biff and his father stepped to one side, Mr. Brewster quietly
explained that the former Chonsi Lama had died a few years after his
visit to Leh, some twenty years before. "He gave orders to keep his death a secret," explained Biff's father,
"until times became less troubled. So a boy who was born at the time the
old Lama died was chosen to succeed him. He grew up on the throne, and
there he is now.I was as much surprised as you when I met him." More surprises were due. As Biff's friends were ushered in, they looked
as awed as Biff had been when he approached the throne.Awe turned to
amazement when the boy Lama greeted them each by name and gave them the
same winning smile that he had shown Biff. "Bring in the others," the Chonsi Lama ordered, referring to Charles
Keene and Barma Shah. He turned to Mr. Brewster. "I shall now officially
announce that your mission is complete," he said. "The Light of the Lama
has been returned. Since it was restored by the present government of
India, I shall ally myself with that nation for our mutual advantage.As
for the trouble you encountered at the gold mines, it still has puzzling
factors--"
The Chonsi Lama broke off to greet the newcomers who were being ushered
in. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
To Charles Keene, he said cordially, "I know you must be Biff's
uncle. "Then, turning to the other man, he added, "And you are Barma
Shah--"
Mr. Brewster was coming forward in quick interruption to confront the
bland man with the broad face and the wide ears.Biff, accustomed to his
father's calm, was surprised to hear Mr. Brewster exclaim excitedly,
"Wait! This man is not Barma Shah. He is an impostor! I have never seen
him before!" "No, I am not Barma Shah," the impostor stated. "But are you sure we
haven't met? Don't you remember--"
He drew his hands over his ears, pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes
to thin slits as he leered mockingly at Biff's father. His complete
change of appearance was startling. "The spy we nearly trapped down at the mine!" Mr. Brewster exclaimed. "You are Bela Kron, the man who was after the ruby!" "Yes, I am Bela Kron," the master spy answered, smiling. "And I took the
place of your friend Barma Shah after he was killed in a Calcutta riot
of a month ago. Now, I am taking over here!" Kron, the pretended Barma Shah, was drawing a revolver from his pocket.He had raised his voice and it must have carried beyond the golden
doors, for they suddenly burst open to admit Hurdu and the three men
with him. No longer were the Changpas carrying bows and arrows.Hurdu
had a revolver, and the others were similarly armed. Efficiently, Kron motioned the robed dignitaries to one corner of the
throne room, Thomas Brewster and Charles Keene to another, Biff and the
boys to a third.That left the youthful Chonsi Lama still on his
throne--for how long was a question, though he took the situation
calmly. Pleased by the way he and his picked crew had taken over, Bela Kron
decided to enlarge upon it. "I started the trouble at the mines," he bragged. "I wanted to acquire
the Rajah's ruby as a passport to bring me to this hidden citadel, so I
could either make my own terms with the Chonsi Lama, or else notify
certain foreign factions just where they could find him.Brewster beat
me here, but when I learned his son was bringing the ruby, I decided to
come along with him." With a mocking look toward Biff, Kron swept his hand around his head,
turban fashion, then downward from his chin to indicate a beard. "Remember that Sikh in the bus?" he demanded. "The one with the false
beard? I was that Sikh. That's how I picked up your trail. I saw Chandra
buy the tickets, and I purposely crossed your path later. "For other reasons, I had helped stir the Kali cult into making trouble,
but I didn't know they were hot after you. So from then on, I looked out
for you, knowing that as Barma Shah, your father's friend and contact,
you would bring me here.I saved your life during the tiger hunt, and
again, when the bear was after you. I tried to get rid of your uncle on
the bridge, because I didn't want him in the way. So I had Hurdu cut the
cable." Kron glanced at Hurdu, who shrugged apologetically. "Hurdu was slow that time," declared Kron, "but he did a good job faking
Yeti tracks to scare Tikse and his crew clear back to Leh, so we could
hire the Changpas, who were waiting in the valley where the trails met. "It seemed that Bela Kron, the master spy, had called every possible
turn. But he had a still bigger trick to play. "My men are stationed in the courtyard below," he declared. "I shall
have Hurdu send two of his men down and bring the rest up. "He waved
toward the door, and Hurdu promptly started the two men on their way. "Then we shall leave, taking you with us." Kron approached the Chonsi
Lama as he spoke. "It will take all the wealth of this hidden city to
make the first payment on your ransom." Calmly, the youthful Lama studied Kron, then smiled as though ready to
accept whatever fate decreed.Kron responded with a glare, then swung to
view the others in the same ugly fashion. "I'll soon decide what to do with the rest of you," Kron began. "In
fact--" he paused as a heavy rap sounded on the golden door--"I'll
decide right now, because Hurdu's men are back. Let them in, Hurdu." Hurdu turned and opened the door. As he did, he came flying back as
though a tornado had hit him.Hurdu's gun scaled from his hand as he
landed hard and flat. The one man still with Hurdu was jumping in to
help him, only to be sprawled in the same efficient fashion.Now, Biff saw the man with the double-barreled fists who had played the
part of a human whirlwind. Biff raised a shout that the other boys
echoed:
"Muscles! "XXI
Secret of the Snows
Bela Kron, though standing ready with his gun, was caught flatfooted by
the speed and power that Muscles showed.Kron was a crack shot, but he
had to wait until Hurdu and the other husky guard were out of the way
before he could open fire. In his eagerness to concentrate on Muscles,
Kron forgot two others. Those two were Thomas Brewster and Charles Keene.Knowing exactly how
far Muscles could carry his drive, Biff's father and uncle acted
accordingly. At the crucial moment, they launched a double drive of
their own.Kron, coming to deliberate aim as Muscles hulked up as a
target, was suddenly overwhelmed before he could pull the trigger of his
gun.Excitedly, Biff and the other boys were pointing to the outer room where
more figures were appearing, but Muscles motioned for them to be calm. Then, through the doorway, came Tikse and half a dozen of his Ladakhi
crew.Amiably, Muscles waved them out, saying, "Never mind, boys, you
won't be needed." The men from Leh realized suddenly that they were in the presence of the
Chonsi Lama, and that in itself accomplished results.Bowing low, they
backed out through the golden doors. Gravely, the Chonsi Lama returned
their bows until they were gone. Then he turned to Biff and said, "If
you introduce your friend Muscles, I will grant him an audience.Then he
can tell his story of how he turned the tables." Biff introduced Muscles, who responded characteristically. "Everything's under control," he said, "so I can take time out to talk. It seems like talking is getting to be the best thing I do.Those
Sherpas we landed among thought I was what they called a Yeti, but I
talked them out of it. "Then they were so glad, they were ready to do anything I wanted, so I
talked them into coming over this way and catching up with the party
that was on its way here, just on the chance I might be needed. "We tried to take a short cut and whom did we run into?" Muscles turned
to Biff. "Your whole crew of porters, heading back to Leh. When they
told me they'd been seeing Yeti tracks, I figured somebody had been
faking them. ""Somebody was," returned Biff. "Hurdu." The Chonsi Lama was becoming more and more intrigued. He expressed the
eagerness felt by all the boys when he suddenly urged, "Go on, Muscles,
tell us more! | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
""Well, your honor," Muscles resumed, suddenly impressed by the youthful
Lama's robe, "I did some more talking to Tikse and his friends.I told
them that there weren't any such things as Yetis, and that having been
mistaken for one, I was somebody who should know. So they turned right
around and came along with me. "Then, to convince them further, I rigged myself up in an old yak hide
and wrapped old towels around my shoes, so I could scare Hurdu and his
tribe into thinking they were really looking at a Yeti and not just his
footprints. ""So you were the thing we saw go bounding up the ledge!" exclaimed Biff. "That's right," said Muscles. "I kept on going, too, clear up beyond a
big rock pile." Chandra turned to Biff. "You see? I was right. ""It was dark when I started out," continued Muscles, "so I brought a
rifle with me. I'd left it up behind the rock pile, and when I saw you
tangling with that big bear, I up and clipped him, first shot.There was
other shooting coming from down your way, so I had my chance to clear
out and did." "And you followed us from then on?" queried Biff. "Sure did," returned Muscles. "We saw you go into a woods and disappear,
so we did the same and found the steps that brought us down here. They
let us in when I said I was with you, Biff, so I guess you're pretty
important around here. ""Biff is important here," declared the Chonsi Lama. "Very important." "I decided to take over," Muscles went on, "when we found a lot of
Hurdu's men down in the courtyard. We jumped them before they knew what
to expect.They knew, though, when they got it. I came on up and ran
into a couple of Hurdu's men coming down. So I bagged them and turned
them over to my crew. Then I walked in here, and you saw the rest. "It was time now for the Chonsi Lama to hold a conference with his
advisers, so he politely bowed his visitors and rescuers out. On the way
down from the throne room, Biff said to Muscles, "So you don't believe
there are such things as Yetis? ""I didn't when I came here," returned Muscles, "but after one look at
this place, I am ready to believe anything. "They left Bela Kron, Hurdu, and a few of his men in the custody of the
palace guards, a dozen men in garish red-and-yellow uniforms whose chief
business was blowing trumpets, opening doors, and participating in
ceremonies generally.The guards were armed with brass muskets that
looked like models of ancient Chinese cannon and probably hadn't been
fired since the day gunpowder was invented.The guards were good custodians, however, for the massive buildings
forming the foundations of the slant-walled palace were honeycombed with
secret passages and hidden cells.Escape was impossible, even for Bela
Kron, the master spy, and his principal followers.As for the rest, they were simply Changpa tribesmen who had been coaxed
in from remote Tibet by Hurdu, just as Muscles had brought in the
visiting Sherpas from Nepal.By now, Sherpas and Changpas were becoming
friends, rather than one group having the other in its charge.The
Ladakhi, too, were fraternizing with both groups and all were so
overwhelmed by the importance of the Chonsi Lama that they were ready to
follow his commands.So they were given the freedom of the fabulous city
until the time should come for them to return to their native climes.Mr. Brewster sat in on the conferences held by the Chonsi Lama and his
advisers, with Charles Keene an occasional participant in the
deliberations.During breaks in the session, they chatted with Biff and
the other boys, who were lodged in special guest quarters with Muscles. "When the previous Lama died," Mr. Brewster stated, "he saw to it that
his successor would be educated in modern ways as well as those of
ancient days. Your friend, the young Lama, had an English tutor and is
versed in other modern languages as well.He is now just sixteen years
old and has two more years to go until he is of age. "The two men you saw with him were the Acting Regent and the Prime
Minister, who have been keeping Chonsi as it was, until the new Grand
Lama takes full power.But now that the Rajah's ruby has been returned
to become again the Light of the Lama, they have decided that this is
their day of decision. All agree that Chonsi no longer should be the
Lost City." That became official the next day.The natives of Chonsi were told that
they were free to visit the outer world without restriction.The Chonsi
Lama entrusted Mr. Brewster with state despatches to be taken to New
Delhi, so that the boundaries of tiny Chonsi could be defined and its
status determined through international negotiations.Bela Kron, Hurdu,
and a few others were to be turned over to the government of India, as
they were wanted for crimes committed within the jurisdiction of that
nation.Biff and the boys had a last pleasant visit with the Chonsi Lama and
then were on their way. All Chonsi was out to wave farewell to the
departing visitors. From the distance came booming sounds like a parting
salute, but not from guns.Those were the reverberations from the
crashing masses of rock and ice that so frequently toppled from the
granite walls that flanked this narrow land, the Place of Living
Thunder.All the porters and native tribesmen made the return climb from the
mile-deep chasm and back through the mountain passes beyond.There were
no serious incidents along the way, as the expedition no longer was
troubled with plotters such as Bela Kron and Hurdu.Instead of returning
to Leh with the Ladakhi, Biff and his father and the rest of the party
continued south to the ranges where the Sherpas lived.There, Charles Keene and Muscles put the plane in flying order, and
after a few pleasant days in the fertile valley, the first group took
off for New Delhi. Charles Keene was at the controls.With him were Mr.
Brewster, Biff, Chandra, and Kamuka, all of whom could give first-hand
evidence concerning the double dealings of the notorious Bela Kron.Charles Keene was then to fly back to the Sherpa valley and pick up
Muscles, Li, Chuba, and Mike Arista, to bring them on to New Delhi,
where all the boys would meet again.But as the plane climbed high above
the mountain pass, thoughts of a more immediate reunion flashed through
Biff's mind and brought an anticipatory smile to his lips.By the time they reached New Delhi, Biff's mother would be there from
Darjeeling, with the twins.Eyes half closed, Biff could already picture
the eager faces of Ted and Monica as his brother and sister waited
breathlessly to hear the full story of his latest adventures! Transcriber's Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original--this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.--Provided a cover based on elements from the book, provided for free
and unrestricted use with this eBook. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.) | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Ambush in India |
In the morning, he was standing at the post office door the moment it
opened.It was with great relief that he saw his letters and packages go
into the mailbag that would be trucked over the pitons to Fort-de-France
at noon, then flown on to Curaçao on the night flight.In his relief and great elation over his discovery, the man shed the
characteristic watchfulness that usually marked his movements.He
momentarily had dropped his guard, and did not notice that his every
action had been closely followed from the moment he had arrived in La
Trinité. CHAPTER II
Seeing Double
The cablegram was short and to the point.MAY I BORROW MY FAVORITE NEPHEW FOR A COUPLE OF WEEKS STOP URGENT. It was signed, “Charles Keene,” and had been sent from Willemstad,
Curaçao, in the Netherlands Antilles.Biff Brewster, the favorite nephew referred to in the cablegram, looked
at his parents hopefully. “Well, Martha, what do you think?” Thomas Brewster asked Biff’s mother,
as the three of them stood in Mr. Brewster’s study. “Oh dear!I really don’t know what to say.” A frown spread over Mrs.
Brewster’s pleasant, friendly face, drawing her arched eyebrows closer
together. “It seems to me that Biff is away from home so much of the
time.”
“I know, dear.But you must admit that we have encouraged these trips. I
still feel that travel is as important to a boy’s education as his
formal schooling,” Tom Brewster replied to his wife’s mild protest.“And Uncle Charlie says it will only be for a couple of weeks,” Biff put
in. “My spring vacation starts next week. I wouldn’t be missing much
school—only a day or two at the most.”
Biff looked from his mother’s face to his father’s.He wanted so much to
go. In his mind’s eye, he was already seeing the sparkling waters of the
Caribbean Sea, dotted with palm-studded islands, long white beaches, and
coral reefs.The Windward Islands, the Leeward Islands, Martinique, Aruba, Barbados,
Guadeloupe, St. Kitts—all these colorful, romantic, exciting names raced
through the boy’s head. “How’s your Spanish these days, son?” Tom Brewster asked. “It’s okay, Dad.I’m scoring well in it at school, and of course I
picked up a lot more Spanish when we were in Mexico.”
Biff was beginning to feel easier.His father’s question was an
indication that one-half of his parents was considering favorably Uncle
Charlie’s cabled request. “How ’bout it, Mom?” Biff pressed the opening his father had given him.“You know Uncle Charlie and I always get along swell. We’re a good
team.”
Charles Keene was Mrs. Brewster’s brother. “Charlie’s so reckless, though,” Mrs. Brewster continued in a voice
registering protest.“If I remember correctly, you and he barely made it
out of China before getting into serious trouble.”
Biff had no answer to this statement. It was all too true.He and Uncle
Charlie had been flown out of China—they had slipped across the border
illegally—to Rangoon in Burma and then on to the British Crown Colony of
Hong Kong, with Chinese Red agents breathing down their necks.“Any idea what your brother is doing in the Caribbean?” Mr. Brewster
asked his wife. Biff’s mother shook her head. “Not any more than you have, Tom.Have you
heard from your uncle, Biff?”
“Only one letter since we got chased out of China,” the boy replied. “That came about a month after I got back home.All he said was that
things were too hot for him to operate in the Orient for a while.”
“He is still with the firm of Explorations Unlimited, isn’t he?” Mr.
Brewster asked. “Oh, yes.Uncle Charlie said the company was negotiating a contract that
would have him operating in this hemisphere.He didn’t say what kind of
operation it was, though.”
“It must be tied in with his wanting you to come to Curaçao, son.”
“Looks that way, Dad. What about it, Mom?” Biff looked hopefully at his
mother. She didn’t reply for a few moments.Then she said, “Well, I
suppose—”
Mrs. Brewster never finished her sentence. The youngest members of the
Brewster family burst into the study. “Mom! Dad! It’s a cablegram!” eleven-year-old Ted Brewster shouted,
waving an envelope over his head. “Yes!Another one,” Monica, Ted’s twin sister, chimed in. The twins were five years younger than Biff. Their ambition was
sometime, someday to travel “a-_lone_,” as they emphatically put it.They listened goggle-eyed to tales of the adventures Biff and his father
or Biff and Uncle Charlie had shared. On several occasions the twins had
gone with their parents and brother to the romantic places where these
adventures had taken place.Mrs. Brewster, always present when the twins
were voyaging, had taken great care to see that her two youngest were
not exposed to the dangers that had accompanied Biff’s far-away
adventures.Ted and Monica could hardly wait until they were old enough
to take part in them themselves. “It’s for you this time, Biff,” Ted said. Excitement shone on his young
face. His eyes sparkled.“I’ll wager I can tell you who it’s from,” Mr. Brewster said, smiling. “Uncle Charlie! Uncle Charlie!” Monica pealed, like a gay bell. Biff ripped open the envelope. The room became silent. “It’s from Uncle Charlie all right,” Biff said.Then he read: “YOUR
PASSAGE BOOKED SOUTHERN AIRLINES FLIGHT ONE TWO NINE TO MIAMI SUNDAY
MARCH TWELVE. RE-PLANE MIAMI FOR CURAÇAO CARIB AIRWAYS FLIGHT TWO NINE
SIX. BE SEEING YOU.LOVE TO ALL.”
Biff handed the cablegram to his father and looked at his mother. “I must say my brother takes things pretty much for granted,” Mrs.
Brewster said, laughing. “That’s Charlie for you,” Tom Brewster said.“When he goes into action,
he moves fast.”
“He surely does, Dad, whether it’s against Chinese bandits or sending
cablegrams,” Biff agreed. “One cable this morning. A second this afternoon. Well, I guess we’d
better be making up our minds, Martha.What do you say?”
“Can we all go?” Ted wanted to know. “Oh, yes, I’d love to go to the West Indies,” Monica pleaded. “I’m afraid it will be just Biff this time,” their father said. “Providing, of course,” he added hurriedly, “your mother approves.Well,
Martha?”
Martha Brewster shrugged her shoulders and smiled. She was still torn. But she had great confidence in her son’s ability to take care of
himself. He had proved this time and time again.And Charles was her
favorite brother, reckless though he was. “All right, Biff darling. I might as well give in now as later.I know
you and your father won’t give me a moment’s peace until I do.”
Mrs. Brewster’s statement was met with cheers led by Ted and Monica. Biff crossed the room and put an arm around his mother’s shoulders.She
pressed her head against her strong son’s chest. The conference in the Brewster home in Indianapolis, Indiana, came to an
end. Sunday morning at ten o’clock found the Brewster family at the
Indianapolis airport.Flight 129, southbound for Miami, had already been
called. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
The last hasty farewells were said, and ten minutes later the
plane speeding Biff southward became a mere speck in the sky to his
mother and father and the twins.The plane zooming Biff to another adventure landed at the Miami airport
in the late afternoon.Coming in over the city of fabulous hotels,
America’s playground, Biff could see the lingering rays of the setting
sun slanting out over the bouncing waters of the Atlantic Ocean.From Carib Airways, Biff learned that the flight which was to take him
on to Curaçao was not scheduled to depart until midnight.After a dinner
of delicious stone crabs, Biff wandered up and down Lincoln Road, the
famed shopping center in Miami Beach, gazing into the windows of the
shops which lined the streets. He left Lincoln Road and swung on to Collins Avenue.One hotel after
another, each in turn seeming more luxurious than its predecessor, lined
the east side of the avenue, between the street and the white, sandy
beach.The night air was warm and gentle in contrast to the cold, blustery
March winds Biff had left behind him in Indianapolis.Biff returned to the airport shortly after eleven, reclaimed his
baggage, which he had checked, and waited for his flight to Curaçao to
be called.The call came just ten minutes before midnight:
“_Carib Airways announces the departure of Flight two nine six, for
Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Willemstad, Curaçao, and Fort-de-France,
Martinique. Now loading at Gate Nine.All aboard, please._”
Biff joined the line which was moving slowly through Gate 9. He looked
carefully about him, as he always did, spotting faces that he might run
into again.He had learned in the past that it was wise to remember as
much about one’s fellow passengers as possible. No telling when such
knowledge might come in handy. Besides, he found the faces of traveling
people interesting.On many long rides, he had amused himself by trying
to guess where they had come from, where they were going, and why. The line shuffled slowly forward. Flight 296 was filled. There would be
no seats for the hopeful standbys.Biff had checked his heavier bag through earlier, when he had presented
his ticket. Now he carried only a small, light dispatch case.Accidentally, as the person directly in front of him stopped suddenly,
Biff’s dispatch case swung forward, striking the person on the calf of
one leg. “Pardon me,” Biff said. The person turned around. Startled, Biff stopped quickly.He even backed
up a step in his amazement. “Am I seeing things?” Biff asked himself, giving his head a shake and
blinking. “Am I asleep? It can’t be. It just can’t be.”
The person Biff stared at returned his stare.The same astonishment
spread over the face of the boy he had bumped. Biff’s own mirror at home couldn’t have reflected his image better. He
might have been looking at himself!CHAPTER III
Backfire
Neither boy spoke, so startled were they by their striking resemblance
to one another. “This can’t be,” Biff said, half aloud. “That boy is—is—ME!”
The other lad must have been thinking the same.“Step forward, please,” the gate attendant called out sharply. “Keep the
line moving.”
In their astonishment, Biff and his double had stopped in their tracks. Dazedly, Biff and the other boy reached the gate. They presented their
tickets.The attendant looked from one to the other. “Twins?” he asked, a smile on his face. Still apparently unable to speak, the boys shook their heads. They walked across the apron leading to the waiting aircraft.As they
walked along, side by side, each cast quick, questioning glances at one
another. It was unbelievable! The boys were the same height. Both were broad of shoulder.Both carried
their well-muscled bodies with the grace and posture of the trained
athlete. The only immediately noticeable difference distinguishing the boys was
their clothing. Biff was hatless, as always. The other boy wore a hat.Biff wore light gray slacks, a soft sleeveless sweater, and a loose
sports coat. His double wore a tight-fitting, dark-blue suit and a
white, high-collared shirt. His clothes were as formal as Biff’s were
informal.They mounted the loading ramp and entered the plane. The stewardess gave
them the same interested, friendly look the gate attendant had given
them. “I’m sure you two will want to sit together,” she said.“You’re twins,
aren’t you?”
“No, ma’am,” Biff gulped. The stewardess seated the boys, disbelief showing in her eyes as they
shifted from the face of one boy to the other.She started moving toward
the door, but kept turning her head to cast a look at the boys. Biff was seated next to the window. His seat companion arose, removed
his hat, and placed it on the rack above. His hair was cropped short, as
Biff’s was.It was a shade darker, perhaps, but just a shade. Biff’s
habit of going hatless could have made the difference. On close examination of the boys’ faces, there was one noticeable
difference. Biff’s eyes were bluish-gray.The other boy’s were a deep
blue. Biff turned in his seat to confront his companion. “Since we look so much alike,” Biff said, “maybe we’d better find out
who we are. I’m Biff Brewster. So you can’t be.I mean, if I am Biff
Brewster—and I know I was until I saw you just now—then you must be
someone else.”
Biff was having a hard time trying to say what he meant. He wasn’t
exactly sure just _what_ he meant. The other boy smiled.“I am glad to make your acquaintance, Biff Brewster,” he said quite
formally. “My name is Derek Zook. I am from The Netherlands.”
Derek’s English was good with hardly any trace of accent.His phrasing,
somewhat stiff and formal, marked it as Continental, not American,
English. It was obvious that he had acquired his knowledge of the
language at school. His sentences didn’t have the free and easy swing of
a native language.“Where are you going?” Biff asked. “I go to Willemstad in Curaçao. That’s in the Netherlands Antilles.”
“Yes, I know,” Biff replied. His astonishment continued to grow as the
coincidences grew. “I’m going there too. Here we are.We look alike, and
we’re going to the same place. Now how about that!” Biff laughed. Derek
joined in the laughter. For the next few minutes the boys were quiet as the aircraft taxied to
its take-off runway. The four engines revved up.The plane started
rolling slowly down the strip. It rolled and rolled, gaining momentum. Then it was airborne, heading out over the Atlantic toward
Port-au-Prince, Haiti, nearly eight hundred miles away.During the flight, Biff and Derek became more and more friendly.They
had much in common, but Biff noticed during the conversation that while
Derek was most willing to talk about his home in The Netherlands, his
schooling, and other, incidental topics, he said nothing about why he
was going to Curaçao.Biff was cagey, too. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
If Derek wouldn’t talk about the reason for his
flying across the Atlantic to visit a speck of an island in the
Caribbean, then Biff felt it wise to say as little about his own visit
as possible.There wasn’t much Biff could tell, anyway. He wouldn’t know why his
Uncle Charlie wanted him until he saw him. Biff did tell Derek that he
was going to be met by his uncle, but he didn’t tell his new friend the
kind of work Uncle Charlie did.The plane flew high over the easternmost tip of Cuba. Near three o’clock
in the morning, Haiti was spotted, a dark, shadowy mass in the grayness
of the dawn. High up over the Haitian mountains, the sky could be seen
lightening on the eastern horizon.Neither boy saw it. They had talked
themselves out and were sleeping. The plane went into a sharp descent for its landing at Port-au-Prince.There was an hour’s delay before the plane took off on its next leg, the
two-and-a-half hour flight to Curaçao. Derek was the first to stir. Biff opened one eye, closed it again, and
settled down into the seat.“Do you know our time of arrival, Biff?” Derek asked, his voice clear
and wide awake. “’Bout seven,” Biff mumbled sleepily. “Let’s get some more shut-eye.”
“Shut-eye? I do not understand,” Derek said, puzzled. “Sleep,” answered Biff. “Good old sleep.But I can see this is the end
of it for now.”
Wide awake, the two boys chatted in low voices until the island of
Curaçao, fifty miles off the coast of Venezuela, came into view.The island is less than forty miles long and not more than seven miles
wide at its broadest point. From the air, it looked like a long
splinter. To the south, the boys could see the mountainous coastline of
oil-rich Venezuela.The plane began a long, gradual descent for its landing at Willemstad. It came in low, seemingly only a few feet above the spanking waves of
the Caribbean Sea.It shot over land and, minutes later, the crunch of
the aircraft’s rubber-tired landing wheels was felt throughout the
plane. As the plane rolled to a stop, an idea hit Biff. “Hey, Derek. I’ve got a
plan,” he exclaimed. “A good one.I’d like to play a joke on my uncle.”
“Good, I like jokes, Biff. What is it?”
Biff didn’t answer right away. Some of the excitement and eagerness
faded from his face.“I just thought—somebody must be waiting to meet
you, so I guess my idea wouldn’t work.”
“I’m not sure anyone is going to meet me, Biff.In fact, I’m almost
certain no one will.”
Biff was so busy thinking about his idea that the significance of
Derek’s reply didn’t register.Only later did he remember the remark,
and realize how strange it was that Derek, who had come thousands of
miles, had no one to meet him. “In that case then,” Biff went on, “here’s what I have in mind.We look
so much alike, I’d like to try and see if we can fool my uncle. So, if
you’re game, here’s my plan. You get off the plane first. Go right into
the terminal.If you look as much like me as I think you do, and as
others do too, then Uncle Charlie will think you’re me.”
A grin came over the Dutch boy’s face. “That does sound like fun. I’d be Biff Brewster to your uncle, wouldn’t
I?”
“That’s right.I’ll stay in the plane until you’re in the terminal. I’ll
follow you in about five minutes.”
The passengers were piling out of their seats now, reaching up to the
racks above for their hats and coats.Derek retrieved his hat, turned to
wink at Biff, and started toward the front of the plane. “Hey, Derek!” Biff called. “Wait a minute.”
Biff got up and overtook his new friend. “’Fraid Uncle Charlie would spot you in a second if you wore that hat.He knows I never wear one.”
Derek took off his hat and handed it to Biff. “Another thing,” Biff continued. “Your coat. Looks too European for me
to be wearing it. Let’s change.”
Derek doffed his suit coat and put on Biff’s sports jacket.Then he left
the plane. Biff, grinning in anticipation, waited until almost everyone was off the
plane. Then, wearing Derek’s coat and hat, he deplaned and walked toward
the terminal.As he stood at the entrance to the terminal, it took several moments for
Biff’s eyes to adjust from the bright glare of the outside sun to the
soft light of the terminal’s interior. He looked about, trying to spot
his uncle.He finally saw him, to the right, standing in front of a
cigar counter, smiling as he talked to Derek. Biff was starting toward his uncle and Derek when two men entered the
terminal from the street side.They looked around quickly, saw Biff, and
came hurriedly over to him. “Derek Zook?” one of the men asked. Before Biff could protest or explain, the other man grasped him firmly
by the arm. “We must hurry.Your father is waiting.”
Biff found himself being hustled toward the terminal exit. CHAPTER IV
Who’s Fooling Whom? Biff was wedged tightly between the two men. They pressured him toward
the exit.He could have resisted, probably could have escaped in the
crowded terminal, but since they were moving in a direction that would
take them right past Uncle Charlie and Derek, Biff decided against a
struggle.He saw that his uncle was watching the action closely. Derek,
fortunately, had his back turned. Biff’s “friendly” captors would not be
able to see Derek’s face and remark the striking resemblance.Within a few feet of Uncle Charlie and Derek, Biff decided to make his
move. He opened his mouth to shout. Uncle Charlie fixed his eyes firmly
on Biff and shook his head. A big wink from Uncle Charlie warned Biff
further to take no immediate action.Uncle Charlie tossed his head,
gesturing toward the exit door. Biff read these signals as quickly as if his uncle had given them to him
verbally. Uncle Charlie wanted him to go with these men.Why, Biff
didn’t know, of course, but he realized that his uncle must have a real
purpose behind his strange action. Outside the terminal, Biff was hustled into a black limousine. It was a
long, sleek-looking foreign car, all windows tightly closed.Was this to
prevent any outcry from being heard, Biff wondered? Or was it simply
because the car was air-conditioned against the tropical heat? As the car pulled away, Biff quickly glanced out of the rear window.He
hoped to see his uncle pulling out in another car to follow. The
streets, filled with tourists, honking cars, and cyclists blocked his
vision. “Well, he must be following me,” Biff said to himself. “I hope,”
he added.Biff was in the rear seat with one of the men. The other was driving. “You had the good trip from The Netherlands?” the man asked. “From where?” For a moment Biff had forgotten the role he was playing;
forgot he was impersonating Derek. “Oh, yes.Yes, very good,” he
replied. “It was quite exciting, flying over the ocean.” Biff was
careful not to mention which ocean. “And your father, so anxious to see you, he is,” Biff’s seat companion
said. “Why wasn’t he at the airport?” Biff asked.He had decided to play along
with these men. So far they had shown no outright enmity, had displayed
no threatening signs. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Even so, Biff felt certain that should he try to
leap from the car, he would be forcibly detained. “He is not well.His explorations at the bottom of the sea have
exhausted him.”
One more bit of information, Biff thought. Now he knew that Derek’s
father was searching for something on the ocean bed. What? Sunken
treasure?These waters had been plied by pirates in the olden days. “He will welcome what you have brought him,” the man said. Now just what could that be, Biff asked himself.This man obviously was
trying to pump him—trying to get him to reveal some information. “It is important to his search, no?” the man continued. “Come on, now,” Biff thought.“You don’t think I’ll fall for that
leading question.” From the cautious manner of the man’s questioning, it
occurred to Biff that the man himself probably didn’t know exactly what
Derek Zook was bringing from The Netherlands.“Oh, yes, I am sure that I will be of much help to my father,” Biff said
aloud. “Ah, good,” the man replied.“You know, sir,” Biff said, “we have been together for ten minutes, and
although you know my name, I don’t know yours.”
“A million pardons, my young friend. I am Herman Dietz. And my friend
driving is Sidney Cade.He is more often called Specks, however. Perhaps
you can see why?”
Biff already had noticed that the driver’s face was covered with red
blotches. Some of them were small freckles. Others were unpleasant red
spots the size of a nickel.For several moments they rode in silence. Biff was fascinated by the
sights around him. They were riding parallel to a broad waterway. On
either side, large oceangoing ships were moored to gaily colored quays. Cruise ships, Biff thought to himself.Shops lined the sides of the
quaint street along which they were traveling. Tourists crowded these
shops, which displayed souvenirs, perfumes, colorful sea shells, shoes,
neckties, and women’s handbags. Dietz noticed Biff’s interest.“Curaçao, you know, is a free port,” he told him. “There are no duties
charged on the thousands of items for sale.That means that perfumes,
for example, which would cost fifty, a hundred dollars an ounce
elsewhere, cost only a small fraction of that amount in Curaçao.”
Biff knew this fact. He meant to buy presents for his family while in
Curaçao.He didn’t comment, though. Dietz wanted to be friends. Biff
felt it advisable to go along with him until he showed his hand more
plainly.Another block and the limousine turned into a curving driveway and
stopped in front of a white, four-story building. “Here we are,” Dietz said, opening the door.As Biff got out, he noticed a small, gold-lettered sign reading: “Hotel
Del Mar.” Just before mounting the steps to the hotel lobby, Biff cast a
swift glance back in the direction from which they had come.He saw a
small sports car pull over to the curb. He wasn’t certain, but the two
figures he saw in the car could be his uncle and Derek. “My father is here?” Biff asked, as the trio crossed the lobby to the
elevators.“He is to meet us in a room upstairs,” Dietz replied as they entered an
elevator. Dietz’s quick reply caused more doubts to grow in Biff’s mind.It seemed
to him that any father, unless so ill or injured as to be confined to
bed, would certainly want to meet a son who had made the long flight all
the way from Holland.Stopping off on the fourth floor, Dietz led the way down a long corridor
to a room at the end. He took out a key and inserted it in the lock. He
didn’t knock, Biff noticed. “Pretty rude,” he commented mentally, as
Dietz pushed the door open.“Enter, Derek,” Dietz said. Biff preceded the two men into the room. One quick glance showed him it
was empty. He heard the door close behind him and the key turn. Turning around swiftly, Biff challenged Dietz, saying, “My father—he’s
not here.And he has never been here. You know that. Why was I brought
here?”
Dietz’s reply was surprising. “You are very clever, for one so young,” Dietz said smoothly. “No, your
father is not here.”
“Then where is he?I demand that you take me to him at once.”
“You must be patient. Allow me to explain.”
“It’s about time you did!”
Specks was standing with his back to the door, as if expecting Biff to
try to force his way out of the room.“It would have been highly dangerous for us to have taken you directly
to your father,” Dietz continued his explanation. “Go on,” Biff demanded. “Has your father written you about a man who was once in his employ?”
Dietz asked.“He may have, and he may not. That is my business and my father’s,” Biff
answered in an angry voice. “Ah ... and would that man’s name be Charles Keene?” Dietz went on
smoothly. Now here was a twist, Biff thought.This is an angle to explore more
thoroughly. “I may have heard that name,” Biff said.“To be truthful, I have.”
“Then you must know that this Charles Keene represents a great danger to
your father and what he has worked for so long.”
This situation was growing more and more weird.Dietz was talking about
Biff’s favorite uncle, but not knowing it, of course. Dietz was
completely convinced that Biff was Derek and thought he was telling
Derek Zook about a complete stranger.Biff already was beginning to get
an idea of what Dietz was leading up to. The double-cross was becoming
clearer. What Dietz didn’t know was that he was double-crossing himself. “Keene was discharged by your father. For good reason.But this made
Keene furious. He swore revenge on your father.” Dietz paused. Biff could just see his Uncle Charlie’s expression when he passed
Dietz’s story on to him.“We knew that Keene would be at the airport to meet you—”
“How could you have known?” Biff asked. The only way Dietz _could_ have
gotten this information was directly from Uncle Charlie.Derek’s arrival
evidently had not been foreseen, or Derek would have expected to be met. But his, Biff’s, arrival, had been planned by his uncle. Why would Uncle
Charlie have passed this word on to Dietz? That question was a real
puzzler.Biff felt he might get more of the answer by letting Dietz go
on with his lying explanation. “We have kept a close watch on Keene’s actions.”
That’s for sure, Biff thought. “We knew he planned to meet you at the airport.It was his intention to
prevent a meeting between you and your father until he could extract
certain valuable information from your father. Only then would he permit
you to join him.”
“And just where do you come in on this?” Biff asked.“Ah—we are your father’s friends. We have worked closely with him. That
is why he asked us to meet you.”
Dietz was digging a bigger hole for himself to fall into.Since he
thought Biff was Derek, Dietz had no idea, of course, of how he was
giving himself away. “We had arranged to stop at this hotel just in case Keene tried to
follow us. I was sure that he would try. He wants to know where your
father is.But I am equally certain that we have eluded him.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Mr. Dietz,” Biff said to himself. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Aloud, he said, “And how can you be sure?”
“I go now to make certain. I will look around most carefully.If I do
not see Keene, then it will be safe for us to take you to your father. Specks, here, will stay with you to protect you.”
Biff wasn’t fooled. He knew that Specks was being left behind to keep
him from escaping.From the wily smile on Dietz’s face, Biff knew that
whatever the plan was, Dietz thought it was moving ahead smoothly. Biff
smothered a crazy desire to laugh. Dietz’s plan would be working out
successfully if the real Derek were here.One thing was very clear to Biff as Specks locked the door behind Dietz. These men did not know where Derek’s father was. They were stalling. The
whole elaborate story Dietz had woven showed that.His plan must have
been to get Uncle Charlie to lead him to Derek’s father. Dietz had
figured he could do this if he could get to Derek first. When Charles
Keene failed to meet Derek, he would have to go to Zook and explain.Dietz probably had planted a man at the airport to spot and follow
Keene.“And this all started,” Biff said to himself, stretching out in a
comfortable chair, “when I wanted to play a practical joke on my uncle
by having him think Derek was I.”
Then it dawned on Biff.He couldn’t have played it the way Uncle Charlie
had wanted any better if Uncle Charlie himself had planned the switch in
identities. It looked to Biff now as if Uncle Charlie didn’t know where
Derek’s father was, either.Parts of the whole puzzling experience had fallen into place. But there
were more pieces still to be fitted together. Uncle Charlie would know the answers. But where was he? Nearly half an
hour had passed since Dietz had left the room.Specks, sprawled in a
chair, still watched Biff closely. Idly, Biff rose and strolled across the room and sauntered out on the
balcony. He could feel Specks’ eyes following him, but the man made no
move.On the balcony, Biff understood Specks’ inactivity. There was little
chance of getting out of the room this way. The drop to the water below
was at least seventy-five feet—straight down.CHAPTER V
Appear and Disappear
“Thinking of taking a swim?” Specks called out. “Some dive you’d have to
make first, eh?”
Biff turned around. He could see the fat, satisfied grin on Specks’
face.Biff recrossed the room and stood over the comfortably sprawling
Specks. He wasn’t too big a man. “Bet I could take him,” Biff thought. Biff’s determined expression seemed to alarm Specks.He sat upright in
his chair, but at the same time cringed against the back of it. Some of
Specks’ boldness had left the room with boss Dietz. Only one thing held Biff back and kept him from mixing with Specks.What
would he accomplish by overpowering his guard? Where would he go? He had
to wait until Uncle Charlie appeared. And supposing he was successful in
taking Specks? Dietz might come back before Uncle Charlie showed up.As these thoughts raced through Biff’s mind, a knock came on the door. It was barely audible. Biff looked at Specks and started for the door. Specks leaped out of his chair and jumped for Biff. He tried to push
Biff aside, and they tangled. Their struggle was brief, halted by a voice from behind them. “Think you can handle him?”
Biff and Specks swung around.On the balcony, a nonchalant smile on his
handsome face, stood Uncle Charlie. Specks, his head pivoting from Biff to Charlie, a frightened look in his
eyes, reached for the doorknob. He wanted out, and fast.“Grab him!” Uncle Charlie ordered and came charging across the room. Not once so far had Uncle Charlie called Biff by name. Biff took his
lead from this. Uncle Charlie still didn’t want Specks to know that Biff
wasn’t Derek.Biff wrapped his arms around Specks, restraining him. Uncle Charlie, at
their side, grabbed Specks by the shoulders and wrenched him away from
Biff’s grasp. “Now, how do you want to play this?” Charles Keene asked.His voice was
firm, grim, even though his eyes held a sparkle of amusement. Specks didn’t reply. He tried to pull away from Uncle Charlie’s grasp. He didn’t have a chance. “There are several ways of handling you,” Biff’s uncle went on.“You see
this?” He removed one hand and doubled it into a ham-sized fist. “It’s
pretty large for a sleeping tablet. But well placed, like right here”—he
flicked Specks’ jaw with the fist—“and I’m sure you will take a long,
long nap.”
Specks cowered.“Or, we could tie you up. But if you’ll be a good little Specks, and not
try anything, we’ll leave you alone. Now get over to that chair and sit
down.” Charlie’s voice was angry now, and he shoved Specks violently
toward the chair.Specks toppled over the chair’s arm, shrank back in it, and tried to
make himself even smaller than he was. Biff and his uncle moved over to a corner of the room most distant from
Specks and talked to one another in low tones. “Good to see you, Biff.Sorry I had to welcome you this way. But things
are beginning to move.I didn’t expect to plunge you into this up to
your neck so fast, but I think things are working out better than I had
hoped.”
In a low voice, Biff replied, “Uncle Charlie, just before you came in
from the balcony, there was a knock on the door.There was another man
here, too, not so long ago. A man named Dietz. That knock could have
been him.”
“I don’t think so, Biff. I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“Then who could it have been?” Biff asked.“Why don’t you go to the room next door and find out,” Uncle Charlie
suggested, grinning broadly. “Go ahead. Specks won’t give me any
trouble.”
Biff shrugged his shoulders, opened the door, and stepped out into the
hallway. He shook his head.That was Uncle Charlie for you. Daring,
reckless, always making a mysterious game out of any situation. Keeping
up the suspense as long as possible.Although he didn’t always approve of his uncle’s methods, Biff had to
admit that with Uncle Charlie, there was never a dull moment. Moments later, Biff returned. “Well?” The big grin was still on Uncle Charlie’s face.It disappeared
instantly on Biff’s report. “There is no one in the room next door,” Biff said in a quiet, steady
voice. “Stay here!” Charles Keene leaped for the door. Biff, standing in the
doorway, saw him dash into the adjoining room.He was back out in a
flash. No longer did he wear a grin. His expression was as serious as
Biff had ever seen it. Charles Keene walked back to Biff, his brows knitted in worry and anger. “I guess I outsmarted myself,” he said.“Who was I supposed to find in the next room?” Biff whispered. “Derek?”
“Yes. It was he who knocked just before I came in. It was this way. We
couldn’t be sure how many people might have been in this room. We knew
you were.We followed you to the hotel—”
“But how did you know what room I’d be in?”
“Oh, that was easy. I’m well known here at the Del Mar. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
The clerk told
me Dietz’s room number.I took the room next to it.”
“You know Dietz, then?” Biff cut in, glancing sidewise to make sure
Specks could not overhear them. “Do I? He’s a bad one. Getting more and more desperate, too.There’s a
pot of gold that he’s afraid we’re going to get to first.”
“Pot of gold?”
“Well, not literally; not actually gold. But it’s worth many pots of
gold—big ones.”
“Go on, Uncle Charlie,” Biff whispered.“How did you get over to this
balcony?”
“There’s a ledge, not a very wide one, that joins the balconies....”
Biff remembered the ledge now. It wasn’t more than ten inches wide.His
uncle had taken a dangerous chance in crossing on that narrow ledge from
his room to this one. “The boy, by knocking on the door, was to cause enough distraction to
give me time to cross the ledge to this room.I was counting on the
element of surprise if I found you being held by more than two men.Remember, surprise can add the strength of another man to any attack.”
“I sure will remember.”
“Well, when I got to your balcony and saw just you and Specks, I knew
things were going to be easy.”
“But it didn’t work out quite that way,” Biff said.“No. I never thought Derek would be in danger.”
“And now he’s disappeared.”
Uncle Charlie nodded his head. He strode back into the room and stood,
hands on hips, glowering down at the cowering Specks. “Where is he?” Charlie demanded.“Where’s Dietz?”
Specks didn’t answer. “Speak up, or I’ll make you talk.”
“I don’t know,” Specks replied. His high voice cracked as he answered. There was no doubt but that Specks was almost numb with fear.Charles Keene reached down and grabbed the man by the shoulder. He shook
him like an angry lion shaking its kill. “Please, Mr. Keene,” Specks begged. “I don’t know.That’s the truth.”
Biff tugged at Uncle Charlie’s arm, and he released his hold on the man. “What is it?” Charlie asked, looking into Biff’s face. Biff indicated
with a nod of his head for his uncle to follow him.He then went to the
doorway and stood in the hallway. His uncle came along. “Uncle Charlie, that man’s too frightened of you to talk, even if he
does know where Dietz has gone.”
Charles Keene nodded his head. “Guess you’re right, Biff.Got any
ideas?”
“Yes. And I’ve got some questions, too.”
“Fire away.”
“What do _you_ think has happened to Derek?”
Uncle Charlie puzzled this question a few moments before replying. “Two things could have happened.Dietz could have returned just as Derek
knocked on the door, or when he was returning to our room.”
“You mean he forced Derek to go with him?”
“Yes. That could have happened.”
“But wouldn’t Derek have called out? Yelled for help?” Biff protested.“Not necessarily. You see, Biff, Derek doesn’t know me any better than
he knows Dietz. You two switching identities at the airport was a good
joke.But then the joke turned into a serious matter.”
“Right!”
“I didn’t have enough time to fill Derek in on what was actually going
on,” Uncle Charlie continued. “He can’t really be sure whether I’m
working for him or against him.The same thing holds for Dietz. Dietz is
a fast and smooth talker.”
“I learned that, myself,” Biff said.“And Derek may have thought that you, by suggesting the switch in
identities, might have been in on a plot for me to get my hands on him.”
“I see. It could look that way.Look, Uncle Charlie, if you would tell
me what this whole thing is all about, I might be more help.”
Uncle Charlie apparently didn’t hear Biff’s last remark. He was deep in
his own thinking. “Or, this could have happened,” he continued.From his tone of voice,
Biff could tell that his uncle was more voicing his thoughts than
speaking directly to him. “Derek might have felt that I was holding him.And after knocking on
this door, he could well have gone right on down to the lobby intending
to leave the hotel.Dietz might have seen him there.”
“And told him you were a crook and that he would take Derek to his
father.”
Uncle Charlie nodded his head in agreement. “Look, Uncle Charlie, just where is Derek’s father?”
“Brom Zook?I don’t know, Biff.”
“Dietz doesn’t know either, does he?”
“I’m not sure.”
It was just as Biff had reasoned. Neither his uncle nor Dietz knew where
Derek’s father, Brom Zook, was, and each thought the other might know.“You were both hoping that the other would lead you to Brom Zook?”
“That’s about how it shapes up, Biff.”
“How long has Derek’s father been missing?”
“I haven’t seen him for over three months.The only communication I’ve
had from him was a letter and a package. They came two weeks after I
last saw him.”
There were still many questions Biff wanted to ask his uncle. But right
now, Biff figured they could wait.The important thing was to find
Derek—and Derek’s father. “Uncle Charlie, if you think Dietz knows where Brom Zook is, then Specks
would know, too, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, I should think so.”
“Then wouldn’t it be best to release Specks?Tell him he’s free? Then we
can follow Specks. If Dietz has talked Derek into going with him, or
forced him to do so, then Specks will lead us to Dietz, Derek, and maybe
even to his father.”
Charles Keene thought about this for a moment.“You’ve got something there, Biff. You’re using your head better than I
am. We’ll do it. You go on down to the lobby. Find a spot where you
can’t be seen by anyone leaving the elevator.I’ll turn Specks loose and
come down the stairs the moment he gets in the elevator. All right?”
Biff nodded his head. “Good luck, Biff,” his uncle called out as Biff headed for the elevator.CHAPTER VI
Crunch
Uncle Charlie had been right about Derek. The Dutch boy had followed
Keene’s instructions to the letter—up to a certain point.Derek had watched Charles Keene climb over the balcony railing and onto
the ledge leading to the next room.He had held his breath as he watched
the older man press close to the building wall and inch his way along
the narrow ledge toward the next balcony. “Are you all right?” Derek had called softly.Charles Keene, perspiration breaking out on his face, nodded his head in
reply. Derek had gone back into the room. Moments passed. Then he had slipped
quietly out into the hallway and moved to the next door. Then he had
knocked.He had waited a few minutes, trying to understand the muffled
words coming from the other side of the door. According to the plan, he was supposed to return to his room and wait
for Biff. “Should I?” Derek asked himself.He was even more confused than Biff had
been by the strange turn of events. Charles Keene had seemed a pleasant
enough chap. But in the ride from the airport to the hotel, he had been
vague in some of the answers he had given.It was hard to distrust
Keene, but his explanations had been so sketchy that Derek’s suspicions
had been aroused. He had even wondered about the switch he had agreed to make with Biff. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Why had Biff suggested the switch?Was it only a practical joke, or was
there some deeper reason for Biff’s suggestion? What had really started Derek’s doubts had taken place at the airport.When Biff and the two men had passed in the airport, Charles Keene had
restrained Derek from calling out to Biff. Derek made up his mind. He would not return to the room Keene had taken
him to.If Keene wasn’t to be trusted, then Derek knew he would have a
much greater chance of getting away from him in the hotel lobby than in
a small room. Derek went to the elevator. Biff had missed him by only
minutes when he went to find him.In the lobby of the Del Mar, Derek took a seat with a clear view of the
elevator bank and the door to the street. His eyes swung from one to the
other. Derek was alert, waiting for any development.Once he dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. Alarm spread
over his face when the object he was feeling for wasn’t there. He almost
panicked. Momentary relief came to him when he remembered that he was
still wearing Biff’s sports jacket.This relief was short-lived. The package he had reached for was of vital importance to Derek. But
Biff had swapped coats with him. Biff now had the package containing the
small object of such value.Had that been the real reason Biff had wanted to switch identifications? So that Biff could get possession of the package? It was hard for Derek
to accept this theory. He had developed an instant liking for Biff.He
felt that Biff had felt the same way about him. And how could Biff have
known that he, Derek, was going to be in the airport in Miami? Could
Biff possibly have known and arranged to be on the same plane?It was too much of a puzzle for the Dutch boy. Derek watched the floor indicator dial over one elevator move, showing
an elevator descending. Would this be Biff? Or Charles Keene? The door
slid open. An elderly couple emerged.He turned his glance toward the street door. A man entered alone. He
looked somewhat familiar to Derek. Where had he seen him? The man glanced swiftly about the lobby. His eyes rested for a fraction
of a second on Derek, then turned away.The man started for the
elevator. Almost there, he stopped abruptly and swung around to look
closely at Derek. Disbelief showed in his eyes. Derek recognized the man now.He had been one of the two who had walked
out of the airport terminal building with Biff. The man crossed quickly to the chair where Derek was sitting. “Derek! You—you escaped! I mean—tell me, what happened?”
The man seemed confused.He was obviously unable to believe what he saw. Dietz was confused. More so even than he displayed to Derek. How had
Derek managed to get away from Specks? What had happened in the short
space of time he had been away?He would have to play this very cagey
now. Earlier, when he had been in the same room with this boy he could
tell that the youth had grown suspicious of him. Dietz took a stab in the dark. “Did Keene come?” he asked.“And you got away?”
That was true enough. Derek had gotten away from Keene. But how did this
man know that he had been with Keene? He couldn’t know—not yet—that it
had actually been Biff Brewster, not Derek Zook, who had left the
airport with him.Derek’s mind spun dizzily for a moment. “Catch hold of
yourself,” he said sternly to his whirling brain. Derek began thinking.Both he and Dietz held their silence for a few
moments, stalling for time, each trying to think how to learn what the
other actually knew. “Yes, I left Mr. Keene,” Derek finally replied. “Was there trouble? Specks—did Keene attack him?Was that when you made
your escape?”
The picture was becoming clearer. The “Specks” Dietz referred to must
have been the other man who had been with Biff and this man at the
airport.Derek had a pretty good idea now of what Dietz must be figuring had
happened. Believing Specks was guarding the real Derek, Dietz must think
that Keene had broken in on them and overpowered Specks, and that during
the melee, he, Derek, had fled.It would be wise, Derek thought, to find
out as much as he could. This man must be the one Keene had referred to as Dietz. Derek decided
to find this out. “Yes, Mr. Dietz. That’s what happened.”
“Thank goodness you made your escape,” Dietz replied.“Keene is a
dangerous man. Dangerous to you and your father.”
This was just about the same thing Keene had said to Derek about Dietz,
Derek remembered. “Caution,” his brain flashed. “Which of them is
lying?”
“My father?” he said aloud.“It is safe for you to take me to him now?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, we must leave at once. Before Keene comes down here.”
Dietz’s answer was quick. A bit too quick, Derek thought. But just what
or whom was he to believe? “We can go to him now.At once.”
“Where is he?” Derek asked this question in Dutch. This was to be the
big test as to whether he would trust this man. Derek had asked one
question of Keene in Dutch. Keene hadn’t replied.At the time, Derek had
thought that perhaps Keene hadn’t been listening to him, he had been so
busy telling Derek why he had permitted Biff to leave the airport with
the two men. “Your father is in a small hacienda to the north of Willemstad.A half
hour’s drive.”
Dietz had replied in Dutch. Derek decided to take a chance. “All right. Let’s go.”
Derek didn’t see the look of satisfaction and relief that flashed over
Dietz’s dark features. He got up and followed Dietz out of the hotel.Moments later, Biff stepped out of the elevator. He just missed seeing
Dietz and Derek leave the hotel. Derek got into the same sleek, black limousine that had brought Biff to
the hotel only an hour before. Dietz got behind the wheel.He wove
through the crowded streets of Willemstad. The town and its houses and
buildings looked very much like a small waterfront town back in Holland. The houses were the same type.Willemstad, Derek recalled, had been
named for a small village back in Holland. Leaving Willemstad behind them, Dietz sped along a narrow, winding road
that climbed the foothills toward the highest point in Curaçao.Suddenly
he swerved off the paved road onto an unimproved, heavily rutted dirt
road. Ten minutes more and Dietz nosed the car through an arched opening
in a pink stone wall.Ahead, Derek could see one large, rambling house,
again stone, but painted a bright yellow, and several smaller stone
buildings. Dietz stopped in front of the entrance. Immediately there came out the
largest man Derek had ever seen.His complexion was a light
coffee-brown. He wore knee-length breeches. His legs and feet were bare. His heavy muscles bulged beneath a thin white shirt, its ends tied
around his waist. Without another glance at Derek, Dietz spoke to the giant.“Take over, Crunch.”
Crunch was well named. Derek learned this when the man clamped a hand on
his arm, grinning down at him evilly. Derek knew now that he had placed his trust in the wrong man. But it was
too late. He was powerless to resist.Crunch had the strength to match
his giant size. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
CHAPTER VII
Gay Curaçao
Biff scanned the lobby of the hotel carefully as he emerged from the
elevator. No sign of Derek, no sign of Dietz.They had left only minutes
before Biff reached the lobby. The stairway Uncle Charlie would be coming down, Biff noticed, led into
the lobby just to the right, and slightly behind the elevator bank.Biff
decided that behind the stairway would be the best place for him to
watch for Specks. There was a large potted plant at the foot of the
stairway. Biff got behind it.From here, he couldn’t be seen, yet he had
a good view of the elevators and the stairs. Specks in his frightened
haste might take the stairway.He might not want to wait for an
elevator, scared as he must be after Uncle Charlie had given him a
verbal working-over.The elevator must have been waiting on the fourth floor, for Specks came
out of it into the lobby just after Biff had taken up his position. He
saw the little man glance nervously around the lobby.Probably, Biff
guessed, he was looking for boss Dietz. He needed his support, needed it
badly. Specks then headed for the exit. He moved at a pace so rapid that he
bumped into several people who were entering.“Where’s Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked himself. “If he doesn’t get here
right now, we’ll lose Specks.” Biff stepped out from behind the huge
plant and glanced up the curving stairs. No Uncle Charlie.Biff did
think that he heard someone coming down, coming fast, taking two or more
steps at a time. “That must be he,” Biff thought. He decided to go after
Specks, hoping his uncle would be right behind.In the curved driveway outside the hotel, Biff looked right and left. Specks must have pulled out of there at a rapid clip. He wasn’t in
sight. Uncle Charlie came out of the hotel, taking the three steps at a
leap. “Where is he?Which way did he go?”
“I don’t know,” Biff replied. “He was gone by the time I got out here.”
“Come on, then.” Uncle Charlie, on the run, headed for the street. Biff
was at his heels. On the sidewalk, they tried to spot Specks.It seemed to Biff he had never seen so many people crowding the streets,
all of them in a gay, holiday mood. “It’s no use, Biff,” Charles Keene said.“We’d never catch Specks in
this crowd, even if we knew which way he went.”
“Guess you’re right,” Biff replied. “But I hate to give up. I want to
find Derek. Don’t like the idea of his thinking you and I are against
him.”
“I know how you feel, Biff.Tell you what. Let’s just wander around,
circulate among the crowds. Who knows, we might bump into him. If we
don’t, locating him is going to take time and organization.”
Biff felt there would be little chance of that happening.He knew that
his uncle was just trying to cheer him up. So, thought Biff, why not? See some of the town at the same time. “Okay, Uncle Charlie, lead on.”
The man and boy joined in the thronging crowd of tourists, sight-seers,
and bargain hunters.“Four big cruise ships in, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “That’s why
Curaçao is really hopping today.”
They stopped at several shops. Both kept an eye out for Derek, and
Biff’s uncle made several inquiries of shopkeepers. No luck.“Let’s
acquaint you with this fabulous city first, Biff,” he said. “Then back
to the hotel for a powwow on our next move.”
Biff looked over some German cameras in El Globo on Heerenstraat.He was
delighted with the store run by Juluis Penha on Breedestraat. This store
sold dolls from all over. He bought a Dutch doll for Monica. It was
dressed in traditional Dutch clothes—wooden shoes, a gaily colored
frock, and a stiff winged hat.He found a Swiss watch at Spritzer and
Fuhrmann, and was surprised at how inexpensive it was. He bought it for
his brother Ted and smiled as he thought of Ted’s face when he saw it.As they walked along, Uncle Charlie kept up a running fire of
conversation, giving Biff a good picture of life in Curaçao. “All the houses are different colors, Uncle Charlie. Why is that?” Biff
asked.Each house was distinct from the other, even if its color varied by only
a shade. Some were light pink, others darker pink. There were bright
green-painted houses, and light green ones. Others were different shades
of blue and yellow.Uncle Charlie chuckled before replying. “Don’t know how true this story is, Biff, but here’s the natives’
explanation of why the houses here are so gaily colored. Many years ago,
all the houses here were whitewashed.It seems the unrelieved glare of
all the white houses hurt the governor’s eyes. So, being a powerful man
who knew what he wanted, he ordered the houses to be painted the colors
of their owners’ choices.Simple as that.”
“If you’re a governor,” Biff replied, laughing. “And you see that large building over there?” Uncle Charlie pointed to a
magnificent structure standing on top of a hill. “Big enough to be a palace,” Biff commented.“It’s Franklin D. Roosevelt House, the United States consulate.The
Dutch built it up there on Ararat Hill to express their thanks for our
protection of these Dutch islands during World War II.”
“That was really nice of them.”
“Good neighbors, the Dutch.”
Biff stopped in front of a store displaying beautiful English china and
Swedish crystal.He pretended to be inspecting these beautiful wares. Actually he was listening intently to a rapid-fire conversation between
two native clerks. “I don’t get it,” Biff said, shaking his head. “What don’t you get?”
“The language they’re speaking.I thought at first it was Spanish. I
know I caught some Spanish words. And some English words. And I could
pick out some Portuguese, too. But it’s all so mixed up.”
Uncle Charlie laughed. “No wonder you’re puzzled.They’re speaking a
language made up of more different languages than any other in the
world. It’s called Papiamento. The jargon is a combination of Dutch,
English, Spanish, Portuguese, African, and Indian words. Carib Indians.A few French words thrown in, too.”
“Just like Curaçao itself.”
“That’s right, Biff. This island is filled with many races although the
Dutch are predominant.”
Uncle Charlie looked at his watch, then glanced up at the sun.“Aren’t
you getting hungry? It’s after noon,” he said. “Now that you remind me,” Biff replied with a grin, “I’m starving.”
“Like to go back to the hotel, or how about some real Dutch-Javanese
food? Dutch cooking is good.Heavy, though.”
“Lead me to it.”
Uncle Charlie took his nephew to Koreman’s Old Dutch Tavern on
Columbusstraat.They started out with a delicious Dutch pea soup, for
which the restaurant is famous, and followed it with a Javanese dish of
pork and vegetables with a thick curry sauce. “Like it, Biff?”
“Delicious. But, as you said—heavy.I’m so full now, I don’t think I’ll
ever want to eat again.”
“This stuff really sticks to your ribs. But if I know you, you’ll be
starving again in a few hours. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
“This pearl was to be given the French consul along with the claim.In
the event Brom Zook didn’t appear within the time limit, the person
appearing for him could establish his right by presenting a black pearl
that was the perfect match for the one I left with the consulate.”
“And that person would be Derek?” Biff asked.“Right you are, Biff.”
“How did Derek get hold of the pearl?”
“Apparently Brom Zook knew he was in danger, from Dietz, I’m sure.Dietz
would try to stop him from appearing to establish his claim—the same way
claim jumpers used to operate in the early mining days of the old West
in the United States,” Uncle Charlie explained. “So he sent Derek the other pearl?”
“That’s right.He told me he had done so in his letter. His instructions
were that if he didn’t get in touch with me in plenty of time before the
ninety-day time limit was to expire, then I was to cable Derek to come
at once to Curaçao.”
“Ninety-day time limit?I don’t understand,” Biff said, his voice
showing he was still puzzled. “When a claim is filed, such as the one I filed for Brom Zook, there’s a
waiting period of ninety days before the claim is granted. The law was
designed to prevent claim jumping.In those ninety days, if anyone else
can dispute the claim, then a hearing is held to decide who discovered
the find first.”
“So that if Brom Zook had jumped someone else’s claim, the real
discoverer could protest and prove he made the discovery first,” Biff
said.“You’re right, Biff. But in this case, Brom made the discovery. Dietz
knows it.Dietz knows that he wouldn’t stand a chance of claiming to
have made the discovery first.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t know exactly where it is.”
“Do you, Uncle Charlie?”
“I have a pretty good idea, because I know more precisely where Brom
Zook was working than Dietz does.You see, Biff, a claim to a water area
covers a _lot_ of ocean. It isn’t like a land claim for mining. A mining
claim covers a specific spot. A water claim can cover an area of
hundreds of acres.I know the island group that Brom was searching in,
but only Brom knows the exact spot where the pearl oysters are located.”
“Then the pearl fishery itself,” Biff said, “could be a very small area
compared to the total area covered by the claim?”
“Right you are, Biff.”
“Then Dietz hasn’t got a chance, has he?”
“Oh, yes.He thinks he has a good one.”
“I don’t see how.”
Charlie Keene grinned. “If neither Brom Zook nor Derek appears at the
French consulate to demand the claim within the ninety days, anyone can
file for the rights.Dietz is just waiting to file in the same general
area where the Zook claim is located.”
Biff knew now what had happened. “And Brom Zook is missing.”
“That’s it, Biff.If neither Brom Zook nor Derek appears, then Dietz
moves in, files his claim, and then it would be most difficult for Brom
Zook to reestablish his rights.”
Biff nodded his head thoughtfully.“Uncle Charlie, when does that ninety-day time limit expire?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, Biff. At four o’clock.”
“What!” Biff exclaimed. “Then we’ve got to act fast.We’ve got to find
Derek!”
“Don’t worry, Biff, we’re still ahead of the game.”
“But Brom Zook will be robbed!”
“I don’t think so,” Uncle Charlie said, smiling as he shook his head. “What’s to prevent it?” Biff demanded. “You, Biff.Couldn’t you play the role of Derek Zook once more?”
CHAPTER IX
Outmatched
Biff was taken aback by his uncle’s last statement.“You mean if we don’t find Derek, you want me to substitute for him?”
“That sums it up, Biff.”
Biff shook his head. He knew he looked like Derek. But Uncle Charlie was
really asking a lot. “Gosh, Uncle Charlie.It’s one thing for me to substitute for Derek when
it’s only a joke. Like at the airport. But to do this—this is for big
stakes.”
“I know, Biff.But, considering the fact that you will actually be doing
this so the just rights of a man will be established, I don’t think you
would be doing anything morally wrong.”
“No, I guess not.We would be stopping Dietz from stealing what belongs
to someone else.”
“That’s right, Biff.”
“Still—suppose I have to sign something? That would be forgery. I
couldn’t do that, Uncle Charlie.”
“I know you couldn’t, Biff. And I wouldn’t ask you to.But I’ve looked
into this affair as closely as I can. I don’t think you’ll be required
to sign anything.The signing for the actual working permit to the claim
will take place in Martinique.”
“I sure hope you’re right.”
“I’m rather certain that I am, Biff.Otherwise there wouldn’t have been
much point in my having you come down here in such a hurry.”
“And my being here gives you more time to find Brom Zook.”
“Or Derek, now that he is here.”
“I wonder why he didn’t get here sooner,” Biff pondered.“You can bet that really had me worried. I waited until just over three
weeks ago before I cabled for Derek to come here.That would be plenty
of time, now that the Atlantic can be crossed in hours instead of days.”
“Didn’t you get a reply to your cable?”
“No. That didn’t worry me too much. I just figured that Derek would know
how serious things had become.His father must have given him a clear
picture of the situation when he wrote him.”
“Why didn’t Derek come as soon as you cabled?”
“I got a cable about ten days after I sent for Derek. It was from his
grandfather.The cable informed me that Derek was in the Swiss Alps for
winter skiing. The grandfather had tried and tried to locate him. It
seems Derek was off on a long cross-country ski race.You know, where
the winner is the one who covers the most miles in a given number of
days.”
“Be hard to locate someone on one of those jaunts, all right,” Biff
agreed.“So, being desperate, and not knowing if Derek would get here before the
time limit expired, I cabled for you. And was I ever glad to see you
come through the door of the terminal!”
“But you actually had the real Derek.”
Uncle Charlie laughed.“That’s right. But from the way things have gone,
it’s a good thing I do have two Dereks.”
* * * * * * * *
The hands on the clock in the hearing room of the French consulate
showed fifteen minutes of four.Seated in the first of the row of
benches which lined the room were Herman Dietz and Specks Cade. Dietz
wore a satisfied smile on his face. Things were going fine. Just fine.Fifteen more minutes, and Brom Zook’s claim would be worthless, voided
by the expiration of the ninety-day time limit. Specks’s feelings were just the opposite of Dietz’s. He was nervous.He
kept shifting back and forth on the bench, looking at the entrance,
watching the clock. Ten minutes of four. The claims referee finished some business with the only other person
left in the room. He looked down from his bench at Dietz.“You have business with the Claims Division?”
“Yes, sir. I have a claim to file.”
“Then let’s have it. It grows late,” the referee said impatiently. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
“I will when it becomes four o’clock,” Dietz said.“It would not be
proper for me to file my claim when there is still time for my friend
Brom Zook to appear to ask for his.”
The referee looked down at the paper in front of him. He picked it up. “Oh, yes. Brom Zook.I have it here.” He glanced at the clock. Five minutes to four. A dead silence came over the hearing room. Three men kept their eyes on
the clock. Even Dietz fidgeted somewhat as the minute hand came nearer
and nearer to the hour hand.Only three minutes and he would win. The sound of feet striding briskly and firmly came from the rear of the
room. Dietz swung around. His face went white. His heart pounded. It
couldn’t be. It was impossible!Derek Zook was a prisoner guarded by
Crunch. Crunch was a simple-minded soul, but a powerful man. Derek Zook
couldn’t have escaped! Biff Brewster came striding down the aisle. The referee looked up.“And what is the matter concerning you that
brings you before this Claims Division?” he asked. “The matter of the claim to a pearl fishery, made by Brom Zook of
Curaçao, sir,” Biff said. The referee picked up some papers.“You can establish your right to the claim?”
Biff nodded his head. Charles Keene came down the aisle and stood by his nephew.“I see by a letter which accompanies this claim that you must meet a
certain requirement in order to establish your right beyond any doubt.”
Biff cast a quick glance at his uncle. Charles Keene said nothing.The
clerk went on:
“Brom Zook has accompanied his filing of a claim asking to be granted
the rights to fish for pearls in certain waters off the Island of
Martinique, with an object which must be matched by any claimant other
than himself.Since I know you are not Brom Zook, you must present this
object to establish yourself as the rightful claimant to the grant. You
have it, young man?”
Momentarily Biff panicked. Where had he put the pearl? Then he felt his
uncle nudge him.“Your inside coat pocket, Biff,” Charles Keene
whispered. Biff’s hand shot into his coat pocket. “The object referred to,” the referee went on, “is a pearl.A black
pearl that must match perfectly the one I hold here.”
At these words, Dietz raised an eyebrow and smirked. He was positive no
such pearl existed. If it did, Derek didn’t have it. He had searched
Derek carefully. No pearl had been found.Biff’s hand touched the small box. He pulled it out and stepped forward
to the referee’s bench. “Here, sir.” Biff said, holding the beautiful pearl in the palm of his
hand. The referee took it.Biff couldn’t resist turning around to see Dietz’s
reaction. Dietz was grasping Specks’s arm. He seemed about to faint. He
swallowed several times, shaking his head as if trying to remove from
his vision something he couldn’t believe he was seeing.The referee was examining the two pearls closely. “Everything seems to be in order. There can be no doubt that these are
matching pearls. Beautiful ones, too. My congratulations to you, young
man, and to your father.He has truly made a discovery of great beauty
and value.”
The referee placed the papers in a thick manila envelope and handed them
over to Biff.“And now, seeing that no one else is here to present a
claim, I declare the Claims Division closed for the day,” he said. Biff joined his uncle, and the two strode happily toward the exit. At
the door, they turned and looked back.Dietz was slumped back against
the bench. Specks hovered over him like a nervous mother hen.CHAPTER X
Plan of Action
Two happier people couldn’t be found among the gay crowds of tourists
swarming the streets of Willemstad than Biff Brewster and Charlie Keene.They were standing at the bottom of the steps leading from the French
consulate. “We pulled it off, Biff. We really outfoxed Dietz,” Charlie said
exultantly. “We sure did. But I was kind of shaky in there for a few moments.I mean
when the referee asked about the matching pearl.”
Uncle Charlie laughed.“You felt like the best man at the wedding who
forgot where he had put the ring, eh?”
Biff and his uncle had spent all their time before appearing at the
Claims Division in looking for Derek.They had gone to the Zook home,
long closed since Brom Zook had been in Martinique and Derek in Holland. They thought the boy might have gone there to hide.They had also inquired at a small boarding house where Brom Zook had
stayed on his infrequent trips to Curaçao. No sign or word of Derek
anywhere. They had come to the conclusion that Dietz must be holding the
Dutch boy.“Yep, Biff, we’ve established Brom Zook’s rights to the claim, and
we’ve got the matching pearls. Pretty good day’s work, I’d say. Couldn’t have done it without you, though. My compliments to you,
Biff-Derek-Zook-Brewster.”
Biff laughed.“I’d like to get back to being just Biff Brewster again. Impersonating Derek Zook gets pretty rough at times.”
Uncle Charlie wasn’t listening. Biff had given him the papers
establishing the claim and the two pearls.Uncle Charlie was examining
the pearls. “Real beauties, aren’t they? And valuable, too.”
“What do you think they’re worth, Uncle Charlie?”
“Hmmm ... several thousand dollars at least.They’d make a perfect pair
of earrings for some exotic movie star or Italian countess or a member
of the British nobility. Not worth a big fortune, but a considerable
one.A pearl collector would probably want them at any price named.”
“And there’s plenty more where they came from,” Biff suggested. “You’re right, there are.”
Biff was quiet. His thoughts were now back on Derek.True, he and his
uncle had preserved Derek and his father’s pearl fishery claim, but
unless they could find Derek and Brom Zook, what they had done so far
was valueless. “Uncle Charlie, we’ve just got to find Derek now.”
Charles Keene frowned.“I know it, Biff.”
“We can’t let Dietz find out that it wasn’t Derek who appeared before
the claims referee. If he does, he could upset our applecart but good.”
“Yes.And it still has to be the real Derek who signs for the working
permit in Martinique. Your impersonation can’t go to the extreme of
signing Derek’s name.”
Biff glanced down the street.His eyes came to rest on the sleek, black
limousine which had brought Dietz to the Claims Division. It was the
same car in which Biff had ridden from the airport to the hotel. Looking
at it gave Biff an idea. “Look, Uncle Charlie.If Dietz did get Derek, he must still be holding
him. Right?”
His uncle nodded his head in agreement.“Although he doesn’t know it, of course, since he saw me in the Claims
office, and thought I was Derek—”
“Go on, Biff, I think I’m reading you louder and your upcoming idea is
getting clearer.”
“Thinking, as he must be, that Derek somehow escaped, wouldn’t he let
his guard down now?He must figure the game is almost up.”
“Yes, that’s how I’d figure it myself,” Charlie replied. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
“And how wrong
I’d be!”
“Exactly.So, believing Derek must have escaped, wouldn’t Dietz feel it
no longer necessary to take any precautions in returning to his
hide-out?”
“I get you, Biff. Following him ought to be a cinch now.”
“What are we waiting for then?Let’s get in your car and wait for Dietz
and Specks to come out.”
The two walked over to Charlie Keene’s small, low-slung, two-seater
sports car. They climbed in and waited. Keene’s car was parked four cars
removed from the black limousine.The cars intervening gave Biff and his
uncle a good spot from which to observe, without too much chance of
being seen themselves. Five minutes passed before a dejected Dietz and his pal Specks came out
of the building.They got into the limousine, Specks at the wheel, and
pulled away. Uncle Charlie started up his car and slipped into the thick
traffic behind. There was little chance of their pursuing car being
noticed by Dietz in the crowded downtown streets.As Dietz’s limousine reached the northern outskirts of the city, traffic
thinned. Charlie dropped back half a block, still keeping the black car
within easy vision. Once the city was left behind, Specks speeded up. The limousine roared
along the road.Charlie let it pull away although he didn’t have to. His
sports car was much the faster of the two. “Aren’t you afraid we’ll lose him, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked, worried. “Not a chance, Biff. This road goes only one place. The end of the
island.No major turnoffs. If we stick too close on his tail, he might
spot us. I just want to keep the car in sight.”
They remained a good half mile behind the black car. Each time it
rounded a curve and disappeared from sight, Biff’s worries increased.But each time, as his uncle rounded the same curve, Biff was relieved to
see the black car ahead. Charlie kept the same distance between the
cars. “Look, Uncle Charlie,” Biff cried out suddenly.“He’s turning off.”
Charlie Keene nodded his head and tramped down heavily on the
accelerator. The sports car leaped ahead. It roared down the road,
rapidly closing the gap to the spot the black car had turned off. As
they neared it, Charlie slowed.They came to a jagged road, angling off
to the right. “That’s where they turned,” Biff said. Charlie nodded his head, but kept on going. “Aren’t you going to turn in?” Biff asked anxiously. “Not right away.We’re too close behind them.”
Charlie continued on down the paved road for a quarter of a mile, then
U-turned and came back. He cut to the left into the rough road they had
just passed, pulled up, and cut his motor. Biff and Charlie got out.Charlie went ahead, inspecting the road. It
was composed of sand and crushed shells. “This is it, Biff. I’m positive. See those deep tracks? Hasn’t been time
for the sand to have shifted and run back to fill them in.These roads
with sand show tracks much as a snow-covered road does.”
Biff was convinced. Not only by his uncle’s skill at picking out fresh
tracks, but because he hadn’t seen any other road in that vicinity.It
had to be the road the black car had just turned down. “Let’s figure our next move, Biff,” Charlie said. The two got back into
the sports car. “I think I know where we are. There used to be a big estate somewhere
around here.It’s been closed up for some years. There’s one large
house, a hacienda, and several smaller outbuildings. An ideal place to
hide out, particularly if you wanted to hold someone prisoner.Let’s put
our plotting machine to work for a few minutes.”
At first, Biff was all for barging right ahead, crashing right in and
demanding of Dietz the whereabouts of Derek. “Don’t think we’d better do that, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said.“We don’t
know how many cohorts Dietz might have. He’s bound to have a servant or
two. Particularly since he had to have someone to keep a sharp eye on
Derek.”
“I see what you mean, Uncle Charlie. What’s your plan of action?” Biff
asked.“I’ll go up to the hacienda by myself. I can keep Dietz plenty busy with
questions and accusations for a while.That will give you time to scout
around the outbuildings and search for Derek.”
“But won’t Dietz want to find out how Derek got away?”
“Perhaps.But since Dietz thinks he is gone, what good will it do him to
worry about locking the gate now that his prize has fled?”
Biff nodded his head. Then another thought came to him.“But won’t the guard who let Derek get away be so worried and scared
he’ll report to Dietz at once?” Biff asked. “Whoa, there, my boy. You’re beginning to think like Dietz. Why should
the guard be upset?He still has Derek, hasn’t he?”
“I forgot, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said sheepishly. “Okay, let’s move on.”
They drove for about two miles along the winding sand-shell road until
they came to the arched opening in the pink-stone wall.“This is where we part for a while,” Uncle Charlie said. “I’ll drive on
up to the hacienda. You wait until you see me enter. Then make like a
beagle and sniff out the other buildings fast.” Charlie looked at his
watch. “I’ve got six-fifteen.How ’bout you?”
“The same.”
“Okay, Biff. We’ll rendezvous outside this gate at exactly six
forty-five. It will still be light by then. But darkness comes fast. Night falls as fast as a theater curtain in the tropics. One minute it’s
daylight.The next it’s dark. Dusk lasts about one minute. All set?”
“Right. And I hope you see double when we rendezvous.”
“See double?” Uncle Charlie was momentarily puzzled. “Derek _and_ me,” Biff said, grinning. “Oh. I get you.Guess I’d stopped thinking clearly for a moment this
time. Good luck, Biff.”
Charles Keene started the car and drove toward the hacienda. Biff waited until he saw him enter the building.When the door closed
behind his uncle, Biff, keeping close to the wall, started out on his
bird-dogging expedition. Fortunately for Biff, the grounds had been landscaped.Palm trees, low
palmetto bushes, and flower gardens, now filled with rank, weedy growth,
gave him plenty of cover to scout around. The first two buildings he inspected were empty.A third, smaller
building, well removed from the main house, looked like the next likely
place. As Biff approached it, he noticed that the windows of the
building were barred. [Illustration: _Biff noticed that the windows of the building were
barred_]
Biff crept silently up to the building. He pressed close to the wall of
the stone house and worked his way around to its rear.Cautiously he
raised his head until his eyes were at the level of the window. He
looked into the room. Once more he was looking at himself in a mirror.This time Derek’s
expression was even more startled than when the two boys had first met
at the Miami airport. CHAPTER XI
Biff Meets Crunch
Biff quickly pressed a forefinger against his lips.If Derek, startled
as he was, made an outcry, any chance of freeing him would be gone. Derek was seated on the edge of a small cot. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
The only other furniture in
the room was a straight chair.Biff could see through a narrow opening
into the second of the two rooms which made up the small stone house. The entrance to this house-prison must be in the other room, Biff
figured. Derek arose and came quietly to the window. “Biff!You found me!” Derek sounded as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “And I’ve got to get you out of here. Fast,” Biff whispered. “But tell me, Biff, what has happened? I’m all confused. I have to
know—”
“No time now,” Biff replied.“If I can’t get you out of here right away,
you’ll be in real trouble. Are you alone here, or are you being
guarded?”
“There’s a guard right in the other room,” Derek whispered back. Biff’s face fell.He had expected Derek to be under guard, but he’d
hoped the guard wouldn’t be so close by. “No way of slipping past him, I suppose?” Biff said. “I would have little or no chance. The guard is a giant.”
“Have you been treated all right?” Biff asked.“Oh, yes. The guard, while big enough to crush me with his bare hands,
is really quite a simple soul. He’s friendly too, as long as I don’t try
anything,” Derek went on. “And he stays here all the time?Never leaves you alone?” Biff pressed
his questions hurriedly. There wasn’t much time before he was to rejoin
his uncle. “No, Biff. He goes to the main house for my meals and his.” Derek looked
at his watch. “He’ll be going any minute now.At six-thirty.”
“How can you be sure he’ll go at six-thirty?”
Derek grinned. “It would be funny if I weren’t a prisoner. My guard—his
name is Crunch—can’t read. Can’t even tell time.He has me set an alarm
clock for when it’s time for him to go get our food. When the alarm goes
off, we eat.”
“And you set it for six-thirty.” Biff said this half aloud. His thoughts
were racing as a plan was shaping up in his mind.“Listen closely, Derek.”
The Dutch boy grasped the iron bars of the window in his hands and
pulled himself nearer to Biff. Their heads were only inches apart. “Do you remember an arched gateway leading into this place?”
“Yes.I remember it.”
“I’m to meet my Uncle Charlie there at six forty-five. He’s up at the
hacienda, stalling Dietz. Here’s my plan. It ought to work, too, if
Crunch is as simple-minded as you say he is.” Biff’s voice was a low,
rapid whisper.“Think it will work, Derek?” he finished. “It should. I just hope you don’t get hurt.”
“Don’t you worry about me. You just make for that gate as fast as you
can if you get out. Wait for my uncle.If I’m not there by the time you
two meet, both of you go on ahead. Forget about me.”
Derek’s frown showed that he didn’t like the possibility that Biff might
get caught. His “But Biff—” was cut short by the sharp ringing of an
alarm clock bell.Biff pulled quickly away from the window. He moved quietly but speedily
until he stood concealed just behind the front wall of the small
building. He poked his head around the corner, saw the doorway only six
feet away, then drew back. Moments passed.Biff heard the sound of a key grating in a lock. Again
he poked his head cautiously around the corner of the building. He saw
the door swing outward. Next he saw the guard come out. Biff gasped. Never had he seen a man of such tremendous size.Derek was right. This
man was a giant! Big powerful shoulders topped a strong, barrel-shaped
torso. His large head, thatched with shaggy hair, was out-size even on
so massive a body.Biff shuddered to think what his fate might be if
Crunch ever got his hands on him. And that was just what might happen. Biff was going to deliberately try to get Crunch to attack him. Crunch swung the door closed.He started to put the key back in the
lock. Biff acted. “No use locking the door, Crunch,” he said, hoping the big man would not
notice he was not dressed like Derek. “I’m out here.”
Crunch, startled, turned in Biff’s direction.He stared with his mouth
agape like a child seeing something for the first time; seeing something
that just couldn’t be. “Yes, Crunch, I got out the back window,” Biff said.Crunch turned bewilderedly to look through the door, as if expecting to
see Biff in the act of escaping. He turned his head back to Biff. Biff
took a step back. He cringed, pretending to be frightened. Actually, he
didn’t have to pretend too much.The size of the man alone was enough to
frighten anyone. Crunch was still confused. He took a step toward Biff, then looked back
at the unlocked door. He made a motion as if he were going to lock it. Biff withdrew another few feet.He wanted the big man to chase him. It
took Crunch a little time to figure out the situation. Then, as he saw
Biff move farther away from him, he made up his mind. He lunged toward
Biff. Biff turned and ran. The plan was working out fine.Derek would have plenty of time and
opportunity to get out of his jail and head for the gateway. Everything was fine with one exception. Suppose Crunch overtook Biff? The boy could almost feel the massive arms of the giant closing around
him.Crunch’s grasp would be as powerful as that of a boa constrictor. Running in the mixture of sand and shell was difficult. Biff felt he was
making no progress. It was like racing on a treadmill. Running was even
harder for the giant.His long strides, his great weight forced his feet
deep into the soft under-footing, slowing him more than it did Biff. Biff had headed directly away from the big house and Derek’s recent
prison. He wanted to draw Crunch as far away as possible.Biff could still hear the big man pounding after him. The distance
between them was widening. Biff halted, took refuge behind a thick
palmetto bush and waited. He could hear Crunch coming on. As he came
nearer, the big man’s breathing was loud.He was gasping for breath. The
sand was his real enemy. It held him back, sapped him of his great
strength. Crunch passed within a few feet of where Biff was hiding. He continued
at a staggering run.When Biff felt he was a hundred or more feet away,
he crept out from beneath his sheltering bush and struck out for the
gateway. Biff glanced at his watch. It was already six forty-five. Had Derek made
it?Had Uncle Charlie been able to get away without Dietz’s watching
him? If he had, then he and Derek already would have met. Suddenly it began to grow darker. Biff welcomed the quick nightfall. It
gave him more cover.When he reached the gate, he welcomed the darkness
even more. Derek and Uncle Charlie were gone. CHAPTER XII
Double Chance
The sudden nightfall, the quick spread of darkness, was most fortunate
for Biff.He selected a secluded spot not far from the arched gateway
and holed in to catch his breath and figure out his next move. Biff was very well pleased with the way he had tricked the giant Crunch. Derek had escaped. He must have met Uncle Charlie.The problem now
was—how was Biff going to rejoin them? | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
As he sat on the warm sand, wondering if he should start the long walk
back to Willemstad, he heard shouts and angry voices coming from the
main house.A knife of light cut into the darkness as the door opened. Out at a run
came Dietz, Specks, and Crunch. “Get the car, Specks,” Dietz’s order rang out. “Crunch and I will search
the grounds.Meet us at the gate.”
Biff’s first idea at hearing the words was to move out fast, put as much
distance as possible between him and the main house and the searchers. Then a second idea came to him. It was a daring idea. It was a dangerous
one.He decided to wait and see if he could put his plan into effect. Two sweeping streaks of light told Biff that Specks was on his way to
the gate in the car.It pulled up and stopped just outside the gate, not
more than ten feet from Biff’s place of concealment. Biff could hear Dietz and Crunch thrashing about in the underbrush. “All right, Crunch,” Biff heard Dietz shout. “They’re not here.Come on
to the gate.”
Moments later Biff saw Dietz join Specks by the front of the car. They
stood in the glare of its headlights. “That stupid fool!” Dietz said angrily. “I don’t know whether to believe
him or not.Do you think he was seeing things?”
“Look, boss, Crunch is stupid. He’s _too_ stupid to dream up a story
like that.”
“Maybe you’re right. But why would that Zook kid come back here after he
had escaped?”
“You got me, boss.Unless he hid something there and came back for it.”
“What? What would he have left when he got away? It just doesn’t make
any sense.”
Biff smiled at Dietz’s confusion. “It sure doesn’t make sense—to you,
Mr. Dietz,” he said to himself.“And I don’t get Keene’s coming out here,” Dietz went on. “He certainly
doesn’t think I’d tell him where Brom Zook is. He’s not that dumb.”
“Yeah—you wouldn’t tell him even if you knew,” Specks replied.That was a piece of information valuable to Biff. Now he knew for
certain that Dietz didn’t know where Derek’s father was. Nobody seemed
to know. “Mighty tough on Derek,” Biff said to himself. The giant Crunch came up.“Get in, you big lug,” Dietz commanded. “In the front, stupid, with
Specks.” There was anger in Dietz’s voice. But no fear. Biff wondered
why the giant Carib Indian stood such verbal abuse. He could tear Dietz
apart.Dietz climbed in, and Specks put the car in gear. It started off slowly. Biff went into action. Doubled up, running low, he overtook the car,
hopped onto the rear bumper, and grasped the trunk handle. This was a
dangerous thing to do.Biff realized it. But what better chance did he
have of getting away, and getting away fast? Biff appreciated the humor of the situation, too.Here was Dietz out
looking for him, and all the time only the length of the limousine’s
trunk lid separated the two. “My enemy is giving me a lift to town,” Biff chuckled. “Darned nice of
him.”
Biff had to hold on tight as the car gained speed.It lurched and
careened around the sharp turns of the curving road. By the time Specks
reached the paved highway, Biff had had enough. He knew he couldn’t be
hurt too much if he were thrown off the car on the sand road.But if he
fell off on a paved highway with the car going at high speed, he could
be seriously injured. He also realized that a following car would spot him easily, hanging
onto the trunk.As Specks slowed to turn onto the main highway, Biff dropped off the car
and skipped over to the side of the road. The limousine headed for
Willemstad. “Now what?” Biff asked himself.“Do they pick up hitchhikers in
Curaçao?” He walked out to the main road. He was just in time to see the
taillights of the limousine disappear as the car rounded a curve.Biff was startled by the sound of another car starting, just a short
distance up the road in the opposite direction from Willemstad. The
car’s lights came on. It headed toward Biff. Biff stepped back into the
darkness.The car came at the dirt road gaining speed. Its tires
screeched as the driver cut sharply off the paved road onto the dirt
one. Biff recognized the car. “Hey! Uncle Charlie!” Biff shouted at the top of his voice as the sports
car shot passed him.At first, Biff didn’t think his shout had been
heard over the sound of the car’s engine. Then the car braked sharply. Biff ran up to it. Charlie Keene hopped out. “You’re okay, Biff? Crunch didn’t get you?”
“See for yourself, Uncle Charlie.I got away all right.”
Derek joined them. “A million thanks to you, Biff. And a million more pardons for my ever
having suspected you or your uncle.”
“Forget it, Derek. I don’t blame you for being suspicious.How could you
help it when I even had your pearl?”
“Well, Biff, to be truthful, I did think for a while that maybe the real
reason you wanted me to impersonate you at the airport was so you could
get my coat.”
“That’s one joke I won’t be trying again for a long, long time.”
“It turned out for the good, though, didn’t it?” Derek replied.“Dietz
still doesn’t know there are two of us. Either two Dereks or two Biffs.”
The boys laughed. “How’d you know I’d be here?” Biff asked his uncle. “I didn’t, Biff. I was afraid Crunch might have caught you. So was
Derek.I was pretty sure that Dietz would head back for Willemstad as
soon as I left.”
“What made you so sure?”
“I told Dietz that I’d left Derek there.If Dietz can prevent Derek from
getting to Martinique, he still has a chance to jump the Zook claim.”
“Because I have to sign the permit for the working permit, Biff,” Derek
said. Biff was thinking fast. Another plan was developing in his mind.“Look, Uncle Charlie,” he said, “If you and Derek could get to
Martinique without Dietz, it would be a good break, wouldn’t it?”
“The best ever, Biff. What’ve you got in mind?”
“Suppose I take Derek’s place again.”
“You can’t, Biff.You can’t sign those papers. That would be forgery,”
Charles Keene reminded him. “Oh, I don’t mean that I’d go to Martinique,” Biff said. “What are you getting at?” Uncle Charlie demanded. “Suppose I go back to the hacienda?When Dietz and Company return, Dietz
will think he still has Derek under his thumb, and that would give you
and Derek plenty of time to get set up in Martinique.”
Uncle Charlie didn’t reply at once. He was considering Biff’s daring
plan.“Don’t like it, Biff. It would work out well for us, sure. But you might
get hurt. I’m thinking of Crunch.”
“Oh, come on now, Uncle Charlie. I’ve been in tighter spots than the one
I’ve described.” Biff spoke boldly, confidently.His inner feelings
didn’t match his spoken optimism. “Derek tells me Crunch is really a
gentle person.”
“Except when he’s aroused,” Derek cut in. “He didn’t harm me. Not once.But one time when I tried to follow him when he went for our meals, he
picked me up and threw me on the cot as if I were a small puppy.”
“Believe me, Uncle Charlie, I have no intention of antagonizing Crunch,”
Biff assured him.“And I’ll think up some reason for being there.”
Uncle Charlie rubbed his jaw. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
“Well, Biff, I still don’t like the idea
at all. But it surely would give us the time we need. We’ve got to get
the working permit.And I’ve got to fuel my seaplane.”
“You’re weakening, aren’t you, Uncle Charlie?”
“I guess I am, Biff. I’ll come back for you in a couple of days. Dietz
will free you once I convince him you aren’t the real Derek Zook.”
“Good. We’ll do it then.But before I go back to the hacienda and
surrender myself, I could use some FOOD! How about you, Derek? Hungry? You missed your nightly feed.”
“I’m with you, Biff.”
“I know an eating place not too far from here,” Uncle Charlie said. “Let’s go.Dietz won’t be back for a couple of hours anyway.”
An hour and a half later, Uncle Charlie and Derek dropped Biff off at
the sand-shell road leading to the hacienda.“Lots of luck, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said, placing an affectionate hand
on his nephew’s shoulder. “My best wishes go with you, too, Biff,” Derek said, holding out his
hand.“And my thanks for all you have done and are going to do.”
Biff watched the sports car head toward Curaçao. Then he turned and
walked down the starlit road. He didn’t feel quite so brave with his
uncle and Derek gone.He couldn’t know how Dietz would react when he
discovered “Derek” had again walked right back into the trap. Biff did
think that he had a good story as his explanation for returning. It was
a story he felt sure would prevent Dietz from harming him.Once again, Biff’s plan was going to backfire. CHAPTER XIII
Turnabout
Biff walked along the lonely, winding road, alert, ears tuned for any
sound, and admitting frankly to himself that his nerves were on edge.It
was nearly eleven o’clock by the time he reached the gate. The only
light at the house was the single, bare bulb illuminating the front
porch. Was Dietz back? Had they all gone to bed? Biff didn’t think so. He
slipped through the gate.Keeping in the shadows as much as possible, he
went up to the house. He couldn’t hear a sound from within. He moved
around to the rear, peeking through every window he passed. Nothing
stirred. The silence was creepy.Biff felt he would welcome even Dietz. Now that he had decided on this course, he wanted to get started. He
wanted to see Dietz’s reaction when “Derek” delivered himself into the
hands of his enemy.The sound of a car came to Biff’s ears from a distance. He ran swiftly
back to the gateway, and scurried into the hiding place in which he had
concealed himself before. Just in time, too.The black limousine came up the road, passed through
the gate, and drew up in front of the porch. Dietz got out. Crunch got
out. Biff could see Dietz speak to Crunch.The big Indian bowed his head
and walked off in the direction of the small house where Biff had first
seen him. “Good,” Biff said half aloud.“At least, I won’t have to worry about
Crunch being present when I go up there.”
He waited a few minutes more. Specks returned from parking the car,
joined Dietz, who had waited on the porch, and the two men entered the
house.The porch light went off. Lights inside the house came on. “Well, it’s now or never. This is it, Biff Brewster. Get hold of
yourself and start moving.”
Biff crossed the yard again and mounted the steps leading to the porch. His heart was pounding.He swallowed, but the lump in his throat stayed
where it was. Biff’s knuckles rapped on the door. He stepped back. He
heard footsteps approaching. The door opened. It was Specks. Specks’ mouth dropped open in amazement. His face went pale.The red
blotches on his cheeks became even redder against the whiteness of his
skin. “Who is it, Specks?” Biff heard Dietz call. Specks didn’t answer. He was speechless. “Who’s there?” Dietz called again. “What is it? Specks!” he snapped.“What’s happened to you?”
Biff stepped forward. “May I come in?”
As he stepped inside the house, Specks took a step backward. He must
have thought he was seeing a ghost. Just then Dietz came into the
hallway.He took one look at Biff, and the glass he was holding in one
hand dropped to the floor. “Zook! Derek Zook!”
Dietz was as astonished as Specks. But being quicker-witted than his
partner, Dietz got over his amazement faster. “It’s Zook.Grab him, Specks!”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Dietz,” Biff said boldly. “I have come
here on my own.”
Still not believing what he saw or heard, Dietz came up to Biff.He
placed a hand on Biff’s arm, as though trying to assure himself that the
boy was real. Biff brushed past the two men and walked down the hallway to a door
which led into a living room.He walked in, picked out a comfortable
chair, and sat down in it as calmly as if he were in his own home in
Indianapolis. Still somewhat dazed, Dietz entered the room and stared at Biff. Specks
stood in the doorway, shaking his head.Dietz recovered his poise. “What are you doing here? Why have you come back?” he demanded. “This is going to be fun,” Biff thought.“Didn’t know I was going to
knock them for this much of a loop.” Aloud, he said:
“I haven’t been away.”
“You mean—you mean all the time we were in Willemstad looking for you,
you were right here!”
“Most of the time,” Biff answered truthfully.“Go get Crunch,” Dietz ordered Specks. A gleam had come into his eyes. He was getting ready to take over. “Now you tell me why you have come back here,” Dietz said to Biff, and
walked over to the chair where Biff was sitting.“I want information,” Biff said. “I want to know where my father is.”
“Oh, you do. And you think I’ll tell you just for the asking.” Dietz’s
laugh was more of a sneer. “We may be able to make a bargain,” Biff said. Dietz leaned forward.A hungry look spread over his face. “You mean if I tell you where your father is—” he began. “I might persuade him to cut you in on the pearl fishery. That’s what
you want, isn’t it?”
Dietz didn’t reply.He walked across the room and stood by a long, low
table. His hand went to his head. He rubbed his scalp. His long silence
worried Biff. It was obvious that some scheme was forming in Dietz’s
mind. He came back to Biff.“I’ll tell you where your father is if you’ll tell me the exact location
of the pearl fishery.” Dietz poked his crafty face close to Biff’s. Biff could hardly suppress a smile.He knew that neither one of them
could give the other the information asked for. Biff didn’t know where
the pearl fishery was. He also knew that Dietz didn’t know where Brom
Zook was. This was going to be a cat-and-mouse game.Biff just hoped it
could be played long enough for his uncle and Derek to get things firmed
up in Martinique. “Can you take me to my father?”
“Not until you give me the information I want,” Dietz replied.“Is he here in Curaçao, or in Martinique?” Biff asked this question to
stall for more time. He knew Dietz couldn’t give him an honest answer. Before Dietz could reply, Specks returned. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
The giant Crunch was behind
him.“Now, young man, you’ll find out just what a fool you were not to stay
away from here once you had made your escape,” Dietz declared. The tide was running against Biff. There was a look of triumph on
Dietz’s evil face.“I came here with a fair proposition for you,” Biff said. “Fair? Never heard the word,” Dietz replied, his voice scornful. “You’ve
walked and talked yourself right into being my prisoner again.And this
time, Crunch will make sure you don’t escape.”
Biff looked at the powerful Crunch. There was a big, silly smile on his
face. He clenched and unclenched his hands, as if he could hardly wait
to get Biff in his grip.“You young fool,” Dietz said. “Don’t you know you and Keene can’t get
the working permit to that fishery unless you sign for it?”
“But neither can you.”
“Ha! That’s what you think.It so happens, you stupid boy, that I have a
friend in the Fisheries Commission on Martinique. You and Keene may have
stopped me once. But you won’t again. Crunch, take him away.And this
time, if you let him escape—” Dietz drew the edge of his hand across his
throat “—that’s what you’ll get.”
Crunch crossed to Biff’s chair. He seized Biff by one arm and lifted him
out of the chair as if he weighed no more than a rag doll.Biff knew it would be foolish to resist. His plan had backfired. Why, he thought, with a sinking feeling, hadn’t he or Uncle Charlie
realized that Dietz, thinking Biff to be Derek, would hold him, and make
for Martinique as fast as he could?Biff realized now that, far from
delaying Dietz’s trip to Martinique, he had afforded him the chance to
go there sooner. He knew this all too well as Crunch forced him down the hallway toward
the door.He heard Dietz say to Specks:
“We leave for Martinique in the morning.”
CHAPTER XIV
A Talk with Crunch
Although Biff’s strategy had backfired, it did give his uncle a slight
jump on Dietz.Just after daybreak, Charlie Keene and Derek were at the waterport where
Keene kept his seaplane. He warmed up the plane’s twin engines. He
pointed the plane’s nose into the wind, and the aircraft streaked across
mirror-flat water.The seal between plane’s hull and the sea was broken,
and the plane was airborne. Charlie Keene put the plane on a course direct for Martinique, a little
over five hundred miles away.If all went well, they would land at
Fort-de-France in under three hours. That would get them there in time
for the opening of the office of the Fisheries Commission. Dietz wouldn’t be able to leave until the commercial flight at 9 A.M.He
wouldn’t get to Martinique until noon. “I hope Biff’s all right,” Derek said to Biff’s uncle. The plane was
high over the sparkling waters of the Caribbean Sea. The island of
Curaçao was only a small dot in the sea behind them.Directly below,
they saw a slender, cigar-shaped cruise ship heading for the port
Charlie Keene and Derek had just left. “Biff’s been in plenty of tough spots, Derek. I’ve been in some of them
with him.I’d never have let him take that chance if I didn’t think he
could handle it. Still—I won’t have any peace of mind until we’re all
together again.”
“That will be good, Mr. Keene. It seems I only see Biff for a few
minutes, then we’re separated again.I like Biff. I want to know him
better.”
Uncle Charlie smiled. It pleased him that his nephew and Derek had
become friends. “You will, Derek. And you’re right. Biff’s as fine a fellow as you’ll
ever know.You two ought to have a great time, skin diving for pearls. You ever do any skin diving?”
“Some. In the Mediterranean. I went there with my grandparents last
summer. Biff’s done a lot of skin diving, I’ll wager.”
“He sure has, Derek.In Hawaii and off the coast of Southern California. His family has a cottage on a lake out there. The whole family goes in
for the sport.”
A little after eight-thirty, the island of Martinique came into view.“Another ten minutes and we’ll be there,” Charlie said. He put the plane
into a long, gentle descent. They came in low over Fort-de-France,
circled the city, then came back to set down in the harbor.At about the same time Charles Keene was setting the seaplane down,
Crunch was setting Biff’s breakfast before him. While Crunch had been at
the big house to pick up the food, Biff had inspected his prison
carefully.It didn’t take him long to determine that escape was out of
the question. The iron bars on the windows were three-quarters of an
inch thick and deeply imbedded in the concrete. Biff tested each bar,
just in case there might be a loose one.“Not a chance,” Biff thought. “I’m here until someone comes for me. Unless—unless I can outfox Crunch again.”
Now, Biff and Crunch ate their breakfasts in silence. When they had
finished, Biff tried to draw the giant out.His first questions were met
with grunted replies. “You know, Crunch,” Biff tried again, “I’ve been all over the world, and
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as big and strong as you are.”
A pleased smile came over the Indian’s face.He still didn’t say
anything. “In China, I knew a man called Muscles. I thought he was strong. But you
could handle him easily.”
The pleased smile on Crunch’s simple face grew broader.“I suppose your boss Dietz has already gone?” Biff shot the question in
while Crunch was still enjoying the flattery. Crunch froze. The pleased expression left his face. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I know he’s gone.I
heard the car leave early this morning.”
“You hear car leave, you know boss gone. Why you ask?” Crunch demanded. “Just something to talk about, Crunch,” Biff said casually.“We’re going
to get mighty tired of one another just sitting here in silence.”
The Indian didn’t reply. “You know, Crunch, I think I could get to like you. You don’t look like
a bad man to me.”
“Crunch good man,” the Indian said.“Then why do you work for Dietz?” Biff asked. No reply. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me. But I know we could be friends. I’m not
going to try to get away from you.”
“You do one time. Make fool out of Crunch.Boss Dietz very mad at
Crunch.”
“You’re not going to believe this, Crunch, but I never did escape from
you. Honestly.”
“Now you make joke with Crunch. You get away. Last night. Before sky get
dark.”
“How could I, Crunch?” Biff asked.“Have you looked around the windows? The bars are still all in them, aren’t they?”
“Crunch look good. Bars all there. You get out by magic.”
Biff laughed. “Well, I must admit, I did use a trick.”
“See. Crunch know.You get out by magic.”
“If I got out by magic once, why couldn’t I do it again? Like right
now.”
Biff stood up. Crunch leaped to his feet and grabbed Biff by the arm. “You go, Crunch go with you,” he declared.“That’s too much of a trick for me,” Biff said, laughing. “Even if you
do think I’m magic.”
Crunch released his grasp. Biff sat down, rubbing his arm where the
giant had grabbed it. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
“Do you like Dietz, Crunch?Do you like working for him?”
Crunch frowned. He looked like a big, bad boy forced to do something he
didn’t want to do. “I’d say you don’t,” Biff went on.“I can’t believe a man like you would
work for a bad man like Dietz if you didn’t have to.”
“Have to,” Crunch said. His hand flew to his mouth, as if he were trying
to force back the words he had just spoken. “I thought so, Crunch,” Biff said.He was winning this man over. Biff
felt a definite sympathy for Crunch. “Why do you work for him?”
Crunch was silent for a minute. When he finally spoke, there was a
surprising bitterness in his voice. “Crunch have brother. Little brother.He do bad thing one time. Have to
leave Curaçao. He go to Martinique. Lots of Carib Indians still in
Martinique.”
Crunch stopped speaking. This was the longest statement he had made. It
seemed to pain him to talk so much.“Go on, Crunch,” Biff said gently. “In Martinique, brother work for boss Dietz. He tell boss Dietz what he
do. He hope to come back to Curaçao. Boss Dietz say he help.” Crunch
paused again. “And he didn’t?”
“No. He come to Crunch.Say if Crunch don’t work for him, do everything
he say, he tell police. If police catch little brother, him go way to
jailhouse for long time.”
“So that’s why you work for Dietz?”
Crunch nodded his head. “Crunch go back to house now. You stay here.No use magic to get out of
jail.”
“I promise, Crunch,” Biff said. “I promise not to use magic.”
Biff felt so sorry for the giant at that moment, he wouldn’t have walked
out on him had Crunch left the door wide open. Crunch didn’t, however.He made sure the door was locked. In Martinique, Charlie Keene and Derek were coming out of the Fisheries
Commissioner’s office. They had the papers. The working permit had been
signed, and it was now tucked in Derek’s inside coat pocket.“I never heard so many questions, Mr. Keene,” Derek said. “That man
asked the same ones over and over again.”
“He was stalling, Derek. He didn’t want to give us that permit,” Biff’s
uncle said. “Why?”
“I don’t trust that clerk.I have a feeling he may be dealing with
Dietz. Just how, I haven’t figured out yet. But I’ll bet Dietz promised
to cut him in if he could hold up giving us the papers.”
“Well, he did give them to us,” Derek remarked. “After a struggle.Come on, Derek, let’s get back to the plane and hop
over to La Trinité.”
“That’s where my father had his headquarters, isn’t it?”
“Yes.That’s where I last saw him, and that was the postmark on the
letters and the packaged pearls he sent us.”
Charlie and Derek took a battered taxi driven by a barefoot native back
to the airport.The water basin where Charlie’s plane was tied up to a
long ramp adjoined the airport. They got there just about noon. They saw a commercial plane come in for
a landing. “That’s the plane from Curaçao, Derek.”
They watched the plane taxi in.They had to pass right by it on the way
to the seaplane. The door of the plane opened as they went by. Passengers began deplaning. Derek looked back at them. He grabbed Biff’s
uncle by the arm.Charles Keene swung around in time to see Dietz and
Specks come down the unloading stairs. “Come on, don’t let them see us.” Keene took Derek by the arm and
hustled him away. “This calls for a change in plans,” Biff’s uncle said.“Something must
have gone wrong. I’m really worried about Biff now. I’ll fly you over to
La Trinité, then get back to Curaçao. You’d better lie low.Dietz will
be heading for La Trinité as soon as he learns we’ve beat him to the
punch again.”
“When will you come back?” Derek asked. “As soon as I can. As soon as I can free Biff.Don’t let Dietz get his
hands on you while I’m gone.”
“I won’t,” Derek declared.“I’m going to spend the time, until you and
Biff return, looking for my father.”
CHAPTER XV
Almost Away
Charles Keene was winging his way back to Curaçao.Derek Zook was in La
Trinité across the Island of Martinique from Fort-de-France. Biff
Brewster was still a prisoner in the cellhouse outside Willemstad.Herman Dietz and Specks Cade were at the Fisheries Commission Office in
Fort-de-France, giving a cowering clerk a very hard time.A tall, gaunt man, his body wasted away by a long siege of fever, lay on
a narrow cot in a monastery high in the Pitons du Carbet.The time was approaching when all these people would be drawn closer and
closer together, the magnet attracting them being a small but rich pearl
fishery in the Baie du Trésor.When Charlie dropped Derek off at La Trinité, he had had one suggestion
as to where the Dutch lad could best start his search for his father. “The post office, Derek,” Charles Keene had said. “That would be your
best bet.Your letter and mine both bore the La Trinité postmark. See
what you can find out there.”
Derek was now following Charles Keene’s advice. “A tall man, you say. Very fair with light-brown hair?” the postal clerk
asked. “Yes. My father,” Derek said.“I know he was here about three months
ago, perhaps a little longer than that.”
The postal clerk thought for a moment. “There was such a man as you
describe. I recall him. His appearance was in such contrast to the rest
of us here in Trinité.But I have not seen him for months.”
“I know. I haven’t heard from him either. I am desperately anxious for
any hint as to where he might have gone.”
“Zook. That was his name, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, yes,” Derek replied eagerly.“Again, the name I remember because it is so different from the names of
the people who live here. Yes, many of us knew about this man.He was
searching the waters of our treasure bay.”
“That was my father, all right.”
“It was rumored that he searched for pearls,” the clerk went on.“The
people of this village had great interest in his activities.”
“Would there be any one person who might have known him well?”
“When he was not out searching the ocean floor, he stayed at a small
_pension_ not far from here.You could inquire there.”
“Where is the place?”
“It is called by the name of Pension Sans Souci. You will have no
trouble in finding it. It is on this very street. When you go out, turn
to your right.A walk of two blocks will bring you there.”
“_Merci._ Thank you very much,” Derek said. His hopes were high as he walked down the street under a blazing
tropical sun. But these high hopes were short lived.At the Sans Souci,
the boardinghouse whose English name would be “Without Care,” Derek
learned little more. “I am so sorry, young man, that I cannot give you news of your father,”
the manager of the small boardinghouse told Derek.“We were very fond of
him.”
“He left no word as to where he was going?”
“No. We didn’t even know he had left us. One morning, quite early, he
came to our modest establishment. I thought he seemed quite distraught. He was not his usual cheerful self.He had hardly a word with me. And it
was his custom to chat with others here. He went to his room. To rest, I
supposed. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
I went to awaken him for the noon meal.His room was empty.”
“And that is all you can tell me?”
“As much as I regret it, that is all I know. There have been rumors—”
“What? What are they?” Derek wanted any information that might be a clue
to his father’s whereabouts.“It was reported, shortly after your father left us, that such a man of
his appearance had been seen in the foothills of the Carbet Mountains. But these tales were discounted. It would be highly unlikely that your
father would explore the mountains.His interest was in the ocean and
what might be on the bottom of the sea. I am sorry, young man.”
Derek left the Sans Souci very disheartened. If the rumors were true,
why would his father have gone into the interior of the island?And if
he had gone there, why had he stayed so long? “I’m going to find out,” Derek said to himself determinedly. “Every
chance I get, I’ll go into those foothills and peaks.I’ll find him.”
* * * * * * * *
In Fort-de-France, Herman Dietz could hardly contain his anger. Specks
had never seen the boss so furious. “But it could not have been,” Dietz said angrily.He and Specks were in
the Fisheries Commission Office. The clerk they were talking to cringed
at Dietz’s words. “You’re a fool!” Dietz raged. “I tell you Derek Zook _couldn’t_ have
signed for those papers. Derek Zook is in Curaçao.Right this minute.”
The clerk could only shake his head. “You remember what I promised you?” Dietz continued. “I told you you
would share in the proceeds of the pearl fishery. There was little you
had to do.Only hold up those rights until I could act.”
“I tried, Mr. Dietz. I delayed as long as I could. Keene and the boy
were here over two hours. I expected you here to lodge a protest.But
when you failed to appear, I had to issue the permit.”
“Well, I’m going to lodge a protest now. With the Commissioner himself. I’ll tell him how badly you botched your job!How you permitted an
impostor to fool you.”
Dietz stormed out of the office, followed by Specks, and made for the
office of the Commissioner. * * * * * * * *
“Another day is coming to an end, Crunch,” Biff said to the giant Carib.“And I’m getting hungry. How about my moving that alarm clock up half an
hour?”
“Crunch hungry, too. Here.” Crunch handed Biff the alarm clock. Biff
moved the alarm, setting it back from six-thirty to six.“There, we’ll have dinner half an hour earlier.”
During the long day, Biff had made great progress in gaining Crunch’s
confidence and friendship. He had drawn the simple-minded giant out
about his brother.The crime the brother had committed was a petty
crime, a small theft. Biff felt almost certain that the police had long
since wiped the charge from the books.Even if they hadn’t, the theft
had taken place so long ago that Biff thought the statute of limitations
would have erased the charge. Dietz, of course, had blown up the seriousness of the theft into a major
crime.He had put a real fear into Crunch and his brother. The brother had paid a high price for his deed. Forced to hide out on
Martinique, he had been separated from his wife and children for years. “Little brother very much want to come back to Curaçao.Want to see
family.”
“Too bad, Crunch,” Biff sympathized. “I can imagine how he feels. Does
he write? How do you hear from him.”
“No write letters. Can’t write. Friends tell about him.Friends who come
to Curaçao from island.”
“From Martinique?”
“That’s right. From Martinique Island many, many boat days away.”
“You know, Crunch, I wouldn’t be surprised if I could help your brother
come back to Curaçao.He might have to go to jail. But only for a short
time. I don’t know about that. If he did commit that crime, he’d have to
pay for it. But wouldn’t it be better if he faced the charge? His
sentence would be light.At the end, he would be free.”
Crunch leaned forward to Biff. Big and powerful as the man was, he had
the feelings of a small child. Biff could see tears in his eyes. “You do that, Crunch your friend!”
“I can’t promise, Crunch.But I do know that Dietz has been using you. Misusing is a better word.”
Biff wasn’t sure Crunch understood. He couldn’t be sure. But he felt
that he was getting to the giant Indian.At first, it had been Biff’s
plan to gain Crunch’s confidence, outwit him, and escape. He still
wanted to escape, but by now, he felt a great sympathy for the simple,
friendly man. He really wanted to help him. The alarm bell went off.Crunch stood up. “No magic. You still be here when Crunch come back?”
“I’ll be here, Crunch,” Biff replied. Crunch went out, still careful to lock the door behind him.There could
be no doubt that his liking for Biff was growing, but fear of Dietz
still guided the Indian’s actions. Crunch had been gone about five minutes. Biff stretched out on the cot
and turned on his left side.“Ouch,” he said as the pen clipped to his
shirt pocket dug into him. He changed the pen to his hip pocket and
settled, face down, relaxed.Suddenly he sat up again, took out the pen,
and stared at it thoughtfully....
Minutes later, Biff was startled by a call, a call from a voice that was
good news to Biff. “Biff! Biff! Where are you?Sing out so I can come to you.”
“Here, Uncle Charlie! I’m here! In this house. It’s the one farthest
from the big house.”
“I’m on my way, Biff!”
Biff leaped to the door. He stood there, hands grasping the bars,
straining his eyes to spot his uncle.He saw him coming at a run. “Hi, Uncle Charlie!” Biff called. “I knew you’d be back for me!” He
could see the big grin on Charlie’s face as he drew nearer. Biff’s smile of happiness changed to one of dismay. His uncle was only a
few feet away.From behind a clump of bushes, Crunch appeared. He leaped
out as Charlie passed. His huge arms wrapped around Keene. “Look out!” Biff cried. It was too late. Charles Keene, a powerful man himself, was helpless in the giant
Indian’s grasp.CHAPTER XVI
A “Magic” Alarm
Biff watched his uncle struggle to break free of the Indian’s crushing
grasp.He saw the tendons in his uncle’s neck grow taut and stand out as
Charlie Keene heaved his shoulders with every bit of his strength. It was as if his uncle were trying to break loose from iron bands. “Crunch! Crunch,” Biff shouted. “Let him go!Let him go!”
The Indian only shook his head. Biff strained at the iron bars, furious that he was unable to go to his
uncle’s aid. “I’m your friend, Crunch! So is that man. He’s my uncle. Let him go!”
Crunch ignored Biff.Charlie’s face was turning red. The powerful Crunch
was actually trying to crush his smaller opponent. Biff knew he had to
do something and do it fast. But what?Biff realized that if he were to keep his uncle from having some ribs
cracked, it would have to be brains against brawn. Maybe Biff could play
on the Indian’s superstition. “Crunch!” he shouted again.“If you don’t let him go, I’ll make more
magic—bad magic.”
At first the words had no effect on Crunch. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
But after a few moments,
Biff’s threat seemed to sink in. Crunch released some of his pressure,
but still held Charlie Keene firmly.“If you don’t let him go, I’ll make the magic that takes me out of this
house,” Biff threatened. Crunch was listening now. “I’ll disappear, Crunch. Watch.”
Biff moved away from the doorway. He went to the window to the right of
the door.He stayed below the opening so Crunch couldn’t see him. “Where am I, Crunch?” Biff called out. “You think I’m at this window,
don’t you? You hear my voice at this window. But I’m not here. Only my
voice is.My body is at the other window.”
Biff leaped across the small room at his last word and sprang into view
at the window to the left of the door. As he looked out, Crunch was
still watching the other window.Biff banged the bars of the window, being careful not to speak. Crunch
swung his head around. The sight of Biff startled him. Biff ducked down. He cupped his hands and held them to his mouth.Turning his head in the
direction of the other window, he called in a low voice:
“But my voice is still where you first heard it!”
Biff raised his head slowly. The simple trick was working. Crunch had
turned to the other window.“Now my voice and body are back together again, Crunch!”
The startled expression on Crunch’s face showed the giant Indian’s
confusion. He was becoming frightened. “If I only had a clincher,” Biff thought.“Something that would really
impress Crunch.” Biff’s eyes lit on the alarm clock. An idea popped into
his head. “I’m going to disappear, Crunch,” he called. “But I’ll return.And if I
return, you will have to release that man.”
Biff ducked down. He grabbed the alarm clock and raced into the back
room, careful to keep out of sight.Biff was counting on the Indian’s
actually believing he had disappeared to get enough time to put his new
idea into effect. Quickly Biff reset the alarm. He set it to go off in three minutes.He
put the alarm lever at “ON.” Then he went to a side window and tossed
the alarm clock out. He saw it land in the soft sand, and prayed the
fall hadn’t damaged the clock. Biff hurried back to the front room.He got down on his hands and knees
and crawled to the door. It was a huge door. The bottom half was of
heavy, thick timbers. The upper half was open with five-inch-thick iron
bars.Slowly Biff raised his head until it was just above the solid half
of the door. From the outside his head looked as if it were detached
from his body. “Crunch,” Biff said the name softly.Crunch, fright showing in his eyes,
looked from one window to the other. “Crunch,” Biff called softly again. “I’m down here now. My head is.”
Crunch looked at the door. His eyes widened, showing white. Crunch was
becoming terrified.“I give you a minute, Crunch. Just one minute. Then, if you don’t
release my uncle, evil spirits will surround you and this house. They
will ring bells....”
“I hope, I hope,” Biff said to himself. Crunch still held on to Charles
Keene.But his grip was nowhere near as strong as it had been. Biff waited. In his anxiety, his palms were sweating. “Crunch,” Biff said again. “I’ve warned you. Let him go.”
At these words, the alarm clock went off. “EEEEiiiipe!” Crunch yelled.He let go of Charlie, turned, and fled. Charlie Keene shook himself. He pressed his ribs with his hands. “No bones broken. But wow! Is that guy ever strong! He could have
crushed me, Biff.That was sure quick thinking on your part.”
Charlie walked over to the door. “If I’d known how powerful that man
is,” he added, “I never would have let you get yourself captured.”
Biff smiled. “Crunch isn’t as bad as he seems, Uncle Charlie.He’s
really a very gentle man.”
“Gentle! You’ve never been given a Crunch bear hug!”
“I mean he’s a simple soul. He’s superstitious. He really thinks I can
magic myself out of this place. He thinks that’s how Derek got out the
first time.He doesn’t know, of course, that it was I, not Derek, he saw
outside.”
“And speaking of getting outside, just how are we going to get you out
of this place?” Uncle Charlie demanded. “Crunch has the key,” Biff said.“And you’ve scared him so badly he’ll never come back. Let me take a
look at this lock.”
Charlie examined the lock carefully. “It’s no good, Biff. It’s too strong to force. I can’t open this lock.You’re just going to have to magic your way out.”
“Or get Crunch to come back and let me out.”
“Think you can, Biff? I doubt it.”
“I can try,” Biff replied. “Crunch and I were getting to be good
friends. He’s not a bad guy.Dietz has a hold on him and forces him to
do this dirty work. I’m going to call him.... Crunch!” Biff sang out. No answer. “Crunch! Can you hear me? If you can, listen carefully. I’ve sent the
evil spirits away. They won’t harm you.They have stopped their noises.”
The alarm clock had run down. “I’m still locked in, Crunch. I promised you I wouldn’t use my magic to
get out. I’ve kept my promise.Come back and see.”
“If this works, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said in a low voice, “then you’ve
really got that giant under your thumb.”
Biff and his uncle waited. No sign of Crunch. No sound. “It’ll be night soon, Biff.He’ll never come back in the dark.”
“I know that. I’m going to try again. Crunch! Night is coming on. My
magic works better in the dark.If you don’t come back before it’s dark,
then I’ll have to break my promise and magic my way out.”
“That ought to do it if anything will, Biff,” Charlie said. They waited. Both looked toward the east. Already the horizon was
beginning to darken.Minutes passed. It would be totally dark in another
minute. “Crunch come back.” The deep voice came from the shadows. Charlie Keene swung around. Ten feet away, at the edge of the sand apron
extending from the undergrowth to the house, stood Crunch.“Let me do the talking, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said in a low voice. “You bet I will, Biff. You know how to handle that giant.”
“Come here, Crunch,” Biff said gently. The Indian approached cautiously. His head pivoted from one direction to
the other.Crunch was looking for the evil spirits. “I have kept my promise, Crunch. I have not made the magic that would
take me out of here.”
Crunch didn’t speak. “I want you to let this man in here with me.I want to show you that we
are your friends.”
Crunch was at the door. His hand pulled out the large key to the lock. “Uncle Charlie, Crunch is going to let you come in with me.Then he will
go back to the house for food for all of us—”
“But, Biff,” Charlie protested, “if I get locked in there with you—”
“It will be all right, Uncle Charlie. Crunch is our friend. We are his
friends.Please, let me handle this my way.”
Charlie Keene shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, Biff.”
Crunch turned the key in the lock. He swung the door open. Charlie Keene
entered, and Crunch closed and locked the door.Without another word, he
disappeared in the darkness on the way to the big house. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
“Biff, if I didn’t know you so well, I’d say you’d gone a little soft in
the head.” Charlie Keene shook his own head.“Now we’re both locked in.”
Biff was lighting a candle. In the glow of its light, Uncle Charlie
could see a big smile spread over his nephew’s face. “You think so, Uncle Charlie? Watch this!”
Biff went to the door.He knelt down, holding the candle’s flame at the
keyhole. He placed his thumb and forefinger carefully at the keyhole
opening and grasped a small wire. “This ought to work. I inserted this piece of wire in the lock’s catch.If it wasn’t dislodged when Crunch just now opened the door, then I
should be able to spring the catch with this wire. Hold your breath,
Uncle Charlie. Here goes.”
Biff tugged smoothly but firmly on the wire.There was a sharp “click.”
The catch was sprung. Biff pushed the door open. “But where did you dig up a piece of wire?” Uncle Charlie asked. “Maybe
Crunch is right and you do have a touch of that old black magic.”
Biff chuckled.“Not black, Unc, blue magic.” Biff held out the separate
parts of a blue plastic ballpoint pen. “I remembered I had this in my
pocket.I removed the steel spring from it, straightened it the best I
could, and used it.”
“Well, I’ll be—” Charlie Keene said. “Don’t you remember, Uncle Charlie? You taught me that trick.”
Charlie Keene chuckled. “I take it all back, Biff.There’s nothing soft
about that head of yours. Now, let’s get out of here! But fast!”
“Why, Uncle Charlie? We can get out any time we want to. Why don’t we
both spend the night here? I’d like to gain Crunch’s confidence
completely.He could be a big help to us on Martinique. It’s good to
have a friend in the enemy’s camp.”
“Yes, Biff. I think you’ve really got something going. We couldn’t get
back to Martinique tonight, anyway.”
Biff opened the door and went out.“Where are you going?” his uncle called softly. “Back in a minute.” Biff was back in less. “Had to get this,” he said with a grin. He held up the alarm clock. “Heap big magic, Uncle Charlie.”
Biff left the door open.He and his uncle sat down on the cot.“When Crunch comes back and sees the door open,” Biff laughed, “he’ll
really think I can out-magic a voodoo medicine man.”
CHAPTER XVII
Reunited
Biff and his uncle heard Crunch approaching.“I want to see this,” Charlie said. He walked over to the window. Biff
was right beside him. Crunch stood in the sand, staring at the open
door. It took several moments for the Indian to get over his amazement.He put down the food he was carrying and moved about in a shuffle,
trying to make up his mind what he should do next. The giant turned suddenly and started off at a lope, intending to search
the grounds for Biff and his uncle.“We’re still here, Crunch,” Biff called out. “We haven’t escaped.”
Crunch stopped. He came back to the cellhouse slowly. Standing in the
doorway, his jaw sagged open. Disbelief showed in his eyes. “No go away?No escape?” He was completely bewildered. “No, Crunch. I told you we wouldn’t.”
“How you get door open?”
Biff only smiled in reply, looking very wise and mysterious. “Magic!You make more magic!”
When Biff still didn’t say anything, Crunch went back outside and got
the food. When he came in, he placed the food on the table, then
carefully locked the door.After he had done so, he looked at the key,
and a foolish expression came over his face, as if he were asking
himself, “Why do I lock the door?”
Crunch still wore a puzzled look on his face as he sat quietly and
watched Biff and Uncle Charlie eat the meal he had prepared for them.It
was a fish dish with a delicious but very hot sauce. The sauce burned
the eaters’ mouths, making the cool, smooth avocado salad that went with
it highly welcome. “That was mighty good, Crunch,” Biff said. “Sure was,” Uncle Charlie chimed in.He took a sip of lime drink and
spoke to Biff. “We’d better turn in early. We’ll want to get an early
start for Martinique. Going to take Crunch with us?”
“How about it, Crunch?” Biff asked. “Would you like to go to Martinique?You could see your brother. Maybe my uncle and I could help him.”
“Crunch have to stay here. Wait for boss Dietz.”
“Mr. Dietz is in Martinique, Crunch. He might need you over there,” Biff
said.It was going to take some time for Crunch to figure this one out. He was
still afraid of Dietz. “Think it over, Crunch, and tell us in the morning,” Biff said.When dawn broke, and Uncle Charlie shook his sleep-drugged nephew into
wakefulness, both knew that they had won Crunch completely over. He had
already gone to the main house for food. And he had left the door wide
open!“Made up your mind yet, Crunch?” Biff asked the Carib Indian after they
had finished breakfast. “You coming with us?”
Crunch was silent, still torn between his fear of Dietz and his
admiration for Biff. “We’re going now,” Biff told him.Biff and his uncle went to the door. The Indian made no move to prevent
their leaving. “Good-by, Crunch,” Biff called. Crunch stood in the doorway and watched them leave. At the arched
gateway, Biff and his uncle climbed into the car.Charlie started it up. They were just beginning to roll when they heard a shout. Looking back,
Biff saw Crunch coming on the run. “Wait! Wait! Crunch come with you.”
A completely new life was opening up for Crunch.He had never been off
the island of Curaçao. He had never been in an aircraft. For the first
half of the flight to Martinique, he sat rigidly in his seat, hands
grasping the seat arms as if he were holding the plane in the air.“We’ll stop at Fort-de-France first, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “Got to
pick up some diving equipment and other supplies.Then we’ll hop on over
to La Trinité.”
Flying low over the waters of the Caribbean, as his uncle came in for a
landing in the harbor, Biff spotted a large net bobbing in a sweeping
arc between two native boats.The fishermen doffed their broad straw
hats and waved at the plane. Directly over the seine, Biff could see
thousands of fish leaping, swirling, their silver sides glittering in
the sunlight.Walking through the teeming streets of the city was an experience in
itself. Fort-de-France with its 66,000 residents is crowded between two
rivers gallantly named Rivière Madame and Rivière Monsieur.To Biff, it
seemed as if every resident of the town swarmed in the narrow street
down which the three walked that morning. “Look at that!” Biff said in amazement. A small native woman walked briskly among the crowd.A sixty-pound
basket of fruit and vegetables was balanced on her head. “Biff, these people are small, but they’re powerful. And they have a
magnificent sense of balance,” Uncle Charlie said.In the basket which the woman wore like a headpiece were bright red
tomatoes, a green pebble-skinned breadfruit, and some fat pineapples. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Under one arm she carried a full stalk of bananas.The capital of Martinique was a blaze of color, from the women’s
costumes to the buildings and the flowers growing riotously in every
garden and patio.Beautiful bougainvillea, brilliantly colored from
rich, deep purple and red to pale lavender and violet, spilled over
balconies like cascading waterfalls. Uncle Charlie led Biff and Crunch to a small hardware store.There was
hardly an inch of open space in the store. A heavy bathtub hung over the
entrance. Garden hose, bicycles, pots, pans, fishing and skin-diving
equipment crowded shelves and hung from rafters.“How can anyone find anything in here?” Biff asked. “A mystery to me, too, Biff,” Uncle Charlie laughed. “But the clerks can
put their hands on any item you ask for in a second.They’re really out
to serve you.”
Biff was given an example of this as his uncle made his purchases.In no
time at all, Biff and Crunch were laden with marking buoys, two
Scubas—self-contained, underwater-breathing apparatus—and Uncle Charlie
brought up the rear with a gay red-and-white nylon tent. “This is all we need here,” he said.“We’ll get the rest of the stuff we
need—pots and pans and so on—in Trinité.”
Making their way back to the aircraft, Biff envied the natives their
ability to carry tremendous loads with no apparent effort.The hop across the island to La Trinité was a short one. The plane was
secured to a mooring and gear unloaded. “Well, Crunch, what are you going to do?” Uncle Charlie asked. “Find my little brother first,” Crunch replied.“And what about Dietz?” Biff asked. “Maybe find him, too. Where Crunch find you?”
“We’re going to make our headquarters here just down the street. At the
Sans Souci.We’ll show you,” Charlie Keene said, “and if you want to
find us, or get in touch, ask there.”
“What about Derek?” Biff asked. “We’ve got to locate him.”
“Don’t worry, Biff. In a town this size everybody knows everything
that’s going on.I’ll bet you right now the grapevine has spread word of
our arrival. If Derek is around, he’ll be looking us up within an hour.”
Charles Keene was right. He and Biff checked into the Sans Souci. Crunch
went off.“A little more shopping, Biff, and we’re ready to take off as soon as
Derek locates us, or vice versa,” Biff’s uncle said. Derek caught up with Biff and Uncle Charlie in midafternoon. The Dutch
boy was delighted to rejoin his friends.“This is really fine!” he exclaimed. “So good, Biff, to be back with you
and your uncle.”
“That goes double for me, Derek. Any news of your father?”
Derek’s face fell. “No.I’ve heard some rumors about him, but so far,
I’ve learned nothing definite as to where he might be. The island
grapevine of news seems to break down just as I think I have a real
clue.”
“Too bad, Derek,” Charlie said. “But don’t give up hope.We’re all
together now. Biff and I want to help you search for your father. It’s
important to me to find him, too. After all, I’m working for him.”
“Are you working for me now, too?” Derek asked with a mischievous smile.“Sure thing, Derek,” Uncle Charlie agreed. “When your father’s not here,
you’re the boss.”
“We’ll work well together. How about it, Biff?”
Biff grinned.“Couldn’t find a better combination.”
“And I don’t think we have to worry too much about Dietz now,” Charles
Keene added. That’s where Uncle Charlie was wrong.CHAPTER XVIII
All Set To Dive
It was nearly five o’clock when Biff, Derek, and Charlie Keene reached
the dock in the harbor of the Baie du Trésor. They rode a truck five
miles out of La Trinité.The truck was piled high with gear necessary to
their search. A thirty-foot cabin cruiser was waiting for them. Keene had chartered it
as his first step after arriving in La Trinité.Slung on davits on the
cruiser’s stern was a fourteen-foot dory with an outboard motor. This
was the boat from which they would do the pearl diving. With all gear stowed, Uncle Charlie started the cruiser’s engine and
backed away.On the dock, natives waved, calling, “_Bonne chance! Bonne
chance!_ Good luck! Good luck!”
“Take the wheel, Biff,” his uncle ordered.“Head straight out while I
confer with the owner.”
“The owner?” Biff and Derek glanced around the cruiser, then looked
curiously at Uncle Charlie. “That’s you, Derek.” Biff’s uncle grinned. “Since you’re the boss,
you’re the owner.I’m the skipper, and Biff is the crew. And I’m sure
you want a tightly run ship, so look sharp there, Brewster.”
“Aye, aye, skipper,” Biff said with a smile. “Now, Derek, where do we head?” Uncle Charlie asked.“Did your father
give you any idea where this pearl fishery is?”
“Only a vague one, Captain.” Derek had entered the spirit of the game.“I know that after leaving Treasure Bay Harbor, we head due south—”
“Bring her around, mate,” Keene called to Biff. “Set your compass
reading for a southerly run.”
They had left the harbor, and Biff spun the wheel.The cruiser’s bow
came around, and Biff held the boat on a due south course. “He wrote me the spot was about five miles off the main coast of
Martinique,” Derek said, “almost directly west of the town of Le
François.”
“I know the town.” Keene nodded.“It’s a small fishing village. Ten
miles down the coast. Put her at full speed, mate. We’ve got to make a
landing before nightfall.”
“There’s a group of small islands off Le François,” Derek continued. “We’ve got to locate the right island.The fishery is a mile off one of
them.”
Charlie Keene wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Whew! Not much to go
on. There must be a dozen or more islands in that group. Some of them
aren’t more than a few acres in area.We’ll make camp on one of the
larger ones. Did your father give you any indication of water depth at
the fishery?”
“About forty feet.”
“That will help. We won’t do any diving in water over, say, fifty feet.But, Derek, there’s lots and lots of water around here.”
And there was. The coast line and pitons of Martinique were plainly
visible, a lush green of wild growth, with fern trees rising as high as
maples.West were the endless waters of the Atlantic Ocean. “We’ll need all the ‘_bonne chance_’ we can get,” Biff’s uncle
commented. It took about an hour to make the run from Treasure Bay to the islands
off Le François. Biff was still at the wheel.His uncle took out a pair
of binoculars and swept his gaze over the island group. “Over there, Biff. That larger one, right between those two smaller
ones. Cut your speed. We don’t know how these waters shoal. Derek, go
forward.Watch for bottom.”
The cruiser approached the shore slowly. “Plenty of water,” Derek sang out. Then, “Sand. I see sand bottom,” he
called a little later. “Ease her in, Biff. That small cove. See if you can take her in there.Give us some protection if a _chabasco_ hits.”
The cruiser inched forward. The sound of the boat’s keel grating on the
sand bottom came to their ears. Biff cut the engine. The cruiser ground
to a stop five feet from shore. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
“Perfect, Biff.We’ll get a little damp making the next five feet, but I
kind of feel like a swim. How about it?” Uncle Charlie suggested. Biff and Derek stripped off their shirts. Shoes and socks followed. The
boys dived over the side.Charlie Keene was right behind them. All three
frolicked in the warm waters of the Caribbean for a while. “All out,” Uncle Charlie ordered presently. “We’ve got work to do. Night’s coming on.”
The cruiser was secured.The dory was lowered and pulled up on the
beach. Biff’s uncle remained in the cruiser. Derek took a position waist
deep in the water halfway between the boat’s bow and the shore. Charlie
passed gear to Derek. Derek handed it on to Biff on shore.The unloading
went smoothly and quickly. Next came the tent. It was set up. Cots were unfolded. A small table and
three captain’s chairs were put into place.“Scoop out a wide, shallow hole and line it with shells.” That was Uncle
Charlie’s next order. He kept the boys hopping.“We’ll put our stove in the shell-lined hole.” Charlie ripped open a
carton containing a small two-burner propane stove and set it up. “String up the lanterns, Biff.It’ll be dark soon.”
The job of setting up camp was completed just as the swift-falling night
blanketed the tiny island with darkness. “Everything look shipshape to you, skipper?” Biff asked his uncle. Charlie Keene looked around.“Can’t log anything against either of you so far. Good job. Now let’s
eat.”
Biff and Derek peeled some potatoes; Uncle Charlie took a small axe and
broke open a canned ham, disdaining to use the key attached to the can. “Ham and fried potatoes.How does that sound?” Uncle Charlie asked. “I could eat anything,” Biff replied. “Might as well open up a can of stewed tomatoes, too.”
The food, although roughly prepared, seemed delicious to all three. Uncle Charlie was a good cook.The potatoes were crisp and brown. The
tomatoes, well, they were just stewed tomatoes. The Danish ham had a
delicate flavor unlike any Biff had eaten before. “It’s rather like the hams we have in Holland,” Derek said.“Only two problems in connection with running this camp,” Uncle Charlie
commented. “Air and water.”
“Air? I’ve never breathed such pure air,” Biff said. “And how much more water do you want than the Caribbean Sea?” Derek
chimed in.“Ever tried drinking it?” Biff’s uncle chuckled. “Don’t. Fresh water, my
lad, is what we need. And there are no springs or wells on these
islands.”
“Well, we couldn’t find any fresher air,” Biff said.“You’ve got to
admit that, Uncle Charlie.”
“Sure, Biff, sure. But what we want is compressed air. For the Scubas. Those air tanks only carry enough for an hour’s diving. I have one extra
tank.We have enough compressed air for about two hours’ diving daily. I
mean two hours for each of you. I don’t think there’s any compressed air
in Le François. I know there is in Trinité.”
“Well, that’s not too far,” Biff said.“We’ll have to go in to Trinité
every day. Air and water.”
“And fresh food, Biff,” Uncle Charlie added. Derek had been silent during this discussion. Now he spoke:
“Mr.Keene, I have a plan I want to suggest.”
“Fire away, Derek.”
“Since we have to go in to Trinité every day, I think we ought to do our
diving in the morning.”
“Okay by me, Derek. Go on.”
“Then, around noon, we could go into Trinité.You and Biff could see
about supplies. I’d like to spend my afternoons searching for my father. I’m more anxious to find him than to locate the pearl fishery.”
“We all are, Derek. And I think your plan’s a good one.We could even
spend the night at the Sans Souci if we got any leads that would take
more than one afternoon to follow.”
“That’s what I thought. Martinique’s not too big an island, but there
are many wild, unsettled places on it.I have a feeling that if my
father is still alive, he’s up in the hills somewhere.”
“Now, Derek, there’s no reason to believe your father’s not alive,” Biff
said softly. Derek didn’t answer at once. When he did, his voice trembled slightly.“There’s one thing I learned that I didn’t tell you.” He paused. “There
was a storm, a _chabasco_, about the time my father disappeared. I
learned that, three days after the _chabasco_, parts of his boat were
washed ashore south of here.Near Le Vauclin.”
Neither Biff nor his uncle replied. They knew what Derek’s fear was. His
father might have lost his life in the storm.“No one knows, though,” Derek went on hopefully, “or seems to remember,
whether the _chabasco_ struck before or after my father was last seen in
Trinité.”
“You mean when he mailed us our letters?” Uncle Charlie asked.“Yes,” was Derek’s one-word reply. “We can check that, Derek. The postmark will show the date. And the day
of the _chabasco_ will have been recorded somewhere in Trinité.”
“I never thought of that,” Derek said. He sounded much more cheerful.Charles Keene had restored his hope. “Big day ahead of us, boys,” Biff’s uncle said now. “I’d say it was
about time to hit the sack. You with me?”
Biff and Derek were. It seemed impossible to Biff that only that
morning, he had been in Curaçao.It also seemed to Biff that he had just
heard his uncle say, “Hit the sack,” when his uncle’s voice came to him
again. This time it was, “Hit the deck!”
Morning had come. In an hour, Biff would be at the bottom of the ocean,
searching for pearls.CHAPTER XIX
Pearl Diving
“Before we go out, we’re going to have a dry run with the Scubas,”
Biff’s uncle announced. Biff, Derek, and Uncle Charlie were on the beach where the cruiser was
anchored.“Don’t know how much skin diving you’ve done, Derek—you said some—but
Biff can tell you that all diving equipment must be carefully and
thoroughly checked out before you go down.”
Derek paid sharp attention. “Don your Scubas,” Charlie ordered.The boys quickly slipped on face masks, helmets, water lungs, snorkels. Charlie helped them strap their compressed-air tanks on their backs. Next the boys put on their weight belts. Into a rubber scabbard on each
belt went a wickedly sharp knife.There were sharks in these waters. A
depth gauge and watch were strapped on each boy’s left wrist. Charlie inspected each item of diving equipment carefully. He tugged at
straps, examined each piece of gear separately.“Jettison belts!” he called out suddenly. With a flip of his hand, Biff hit the catch on his weight belt. It
dropped to the sand. Derek was a few seconds longer. “Seconds can count, Derek, if you get into trouble.Try it again.”
Derek slipped his weight belt back on. Charlie shouted the order. Derek
hit the catch, and his belt dropped. “That’s better, Derek. Remember, that belt is what holds you down.If
you have to come up fast, you’ve got to get rid of that belt fast.”
“But don’t try to come up too fast, Derek,” Biff said. “Especially if
you’re down deep.”
“Biff’s right.A good rule to follow is not to rise to the surface any
faster than the escaping air bubbles. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Your body has to adjust to the
variations in water pressure. All right, let’s go out and try it in the
water now.”
They climbed in the dory.Uncle Charlie started the outboard, and they
moved offshore about fifty feet. “Sound for depth, Biff.”
Biff dropped a sounding line overboard. He pulled it up, examined the
leads marking off every three feet. “Thirty feet, Uncle Charlie.”
“Okay.Now you know how to clear your masks.”
Both boys nodded their heads.“I want to hear you tell me.”
Biff began promptly: “If water seeps into your mask, clouding the glass
and obscuring your vision, you roll over on your back—”
“Take it from there, Derek,” Charlie cut in. “Then—then you blow air out through your nose.The air pressure building
up in the mask will force the water out around the edges of the mask.”
“Good. You both know the most important safety feature of skin diving.Okay, over you go.”
The boys slipped their swim fins, or flippers, on their feet and lowered
themselves overboard. They sank slowly to the bottom. At this point, the bottom was smooth, clean white sand.Biff and Derek
moved around, using their legs and feet only for propulsion. Biff came
up to Derek, circled his thumb and forefinger together, indicating that
everything was going smoothly. Derek replied with the “V for Victory”
sign.Then they rose to the surface. When they broke water, Charlie Keene was waiting with another order. “Down again, and as soon as you touch bottom, jettison your belts.”
Down they went again.Charles Keene was taking no chances on the boys’
safety and ability to skin dive. Up popped the boys, their wet heads appearing above the water first and
looking like strange creatures from the deep. Biff flipped back his face
mask. “Good work, Biff.But you’ve got to go back down and retrieve the weight
belts. Here’s a spare. You’d find it tough to get down thirty feet
without it.”
Derek climbed aboard the dory while Biff submerged to pick up the belts. He had to make two trips.The weight of three belts would have held him
down. “We might as well start our search off this island first.Good as any.”
The dory sped out to a point Uncle Charlie estimated to be about a mile
away. The anchor was tossed overboard.The sounding line showed the
water depth at just over forty-five feet. “I want you to take this spear along with you, Biff.” Uncle Charlie
handed his nephew a wicked, lethal-looking weapon. Its tip was needle
sharp.“I doubt you’ll run into any bad fish here. But you might. And don’t,
_do not_ use it except in case of extreme danger.If you spear an
attacking fish—shark, barracuda or octopus—remember any blood will
attract other sharks, and then you’ll be in real trouble.”
Biff took the spear and examined it. “Each of you take one of these wire baskets.They’re to load the oysters
in—if you find any. I’m the puller-up. I’ve a line on each basket. Now
get these signals. I want both of you to give me one sharp tug every ten
minutes. That will tell me you’re okay.Give two sharp tugs when your
basket is filled. I’ll pull the basket up, unload it, and lower it
again. Now, in case of emergency, a series of sharp tugs will alert me,
and I’ll be right down. Got it? Okay.Over you go.”
The bottom was different this time. Instead of clean, white sand, the
bottom was covered with a layer of mud mixed with sand. Biff felt around
carefully.Both boys were wearing thick rubber gloves to protect their
hands against the sharp, jagged oyster shells. As Biff was feeling around in the mud, Derek swam over to him. He held a
large oyster in front of Biff’s mask. Then he plopped it in his basket.Biff’s hand touched a large shell. He dug it out and discarded it. It
was a clam. He ran into a nest of oysters. He quickly filled his basket
and gave the signal to haul up.Minutes later, the basket came down,
swaying in the water at the bottom of the line. The boys worked slowly, carefully, feeling their way.Every so often, a
large fish would swim up to them, coming right to the face masks as if
to ask, “What are _you_ doing down here?”
Biff kept a sharp check on his watch. He knew his air tank had
sufficient air to remain submerged for one hour.It also had a
five-minute emergency supply in addition. Biff had no intention of
waiting until he had to use the extra air. After being down fifty-five
minutes, he signaled Derek. With his forefinger, he pointed upward. Derek got the idea.The boys began their slow ascent. Rising, looking up toward the surface, they could see the dory outlined
above, a fat, cigar-shaped blob. Breaking water as they surfaced, each boy grabbed the dory’s gunwale. They were both tired.Neither had realized how the water pressure at
forty-five feet had sapped their strength. They had been down nearly an
hour. “You don’t know what a tough job diving is until you’ve been down for a
good spell,” Charlie said.He leaned over the side and helped the boys
into the boat. They took off their diving equipment. “Had enough for today, boys?” Biff’s uncle inquired. “Oh, no. We’ll go down again. After we rest,” Biff replied.“All right
with you, Derek?”
Derek nodded his head. “Actually, I don’t see much point in going back down,” Uncle Charlie
said. “We’ve got ten baskets of oysters. We might as well shuck them and
see if we find any pearls.If we don’t, then we’ll say good-by to this
spot and try another tomorrow.”
“Now I like that idea,” Biff said and stretched out on the narrow seat
that ran around the side of the dory.His uncle upped anchor, and they headed back to their island camp. They didn’t go into Trinité that day, since they still had the reserve
tank of compressed air and enough food for supper. The afternoon was
spent at the tedious job of opening oysters.It was slow going. None of
the three had the skill of a professional oyster opener. The job was totally unrewarding. “Not one pearl.” Biff sighed. “Not even a single tiny one,” Derek said sadly.“Now, don’t be downhearted, boys,” Uncle Charlie said, trying to cheer
them up. “Can’t expect to hit it the first day.”
“At any rate, we’ve got enough oysters to make a stew. If we had some
milk,” Biff said. “Afraid not, Biff.”
“Yeah.Where are we going to get milk? A seacow, maybe? Wish we’d kept
some of them. We could have had an oyster roast.”
“Wrong again, Biff,” Charlie said. “Pearl oysters aren’t edible.These
would make you so sick, you wouldn’t be any good for ten days.”
“What a waste!” Biff said, and stretched out on the sand. Every muscle,
every bone in his body ached. All three went to bed that night right after supper.Biff, having slept heavily, awoke just as dawn broke. He thought he had
been awakened by the sound of a boat’s motor. He listened intently. No
sound. Biff turned over on his narrow cot, determined to get back to
sleep.He was just drifting off when he heard a sound outside the tent,
just beyond where his cot touched the inside of the tent wall. He waited tensely. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
The sound was only a faint rustle.He saw the side of
the tent stretch as if something was crawling underneath it. Biff raised
himself on one elbow, ready to sound the alarm.As he watched, in the faint dawn light, a thick, snake-shaped object
slithered up between his cot and the tent’s side. CHAPTER XX
Enemy Invasion
Biff moved quickly, noiselessly out of his cot.In the increasing
daylight, he could see that the strange object slithering over his bed
was a huge arm. He went over to his uncle, shook him gently, and when
Charlie Keene roused, Biff cautioned silence, pressing a finger to his
lips.Biff pointed to his cot. Charlie Keene saw the arm and was up in a flash. From under his pillow
he took a gun. This action startled Biff even more than the mysterious
arm.He had no idea that his uncle thought they were in such danger that
there was reason for keeping a gun close at hand. “Stay here,” Uncle Charlie whispered. “I’ll slip outside.”
Biff kept his eyes on the arm.He saw the arm slide over the cot, saw
the hand feel it. The hand withdrew quickly, the arm slipped back
outside the tent. “Hold it!” Biff heard his uncle command. This stern order was followed
by an amazed “Why, what the—what are you doing here!Biff! Come
running!”
Biff leaped out of the tent. In the morning light, he saw his uncle
holding a gun on the giant Carib Indian, Crunch. “Crunch!” Biff’s astonishment turned to delight at seeing his simple,
friendly enemy again. “What in the world?Why did you sneak up on us
like this!” he exclaimed. Crunch stepped over to Biff. “Not know who might be in tent. Want to find my friend, you. Have story
of big trouble for you and your friends.”
“What is it, Crunch? Tell me.”
“It is boss Dietz.See Crunch in Trinité. Make Crunch come back and work
for him. Last night, Dietz and Specks make camp on next island.” Crunch
pointed in the direction of an island about half a mile away. “They leave Crunch to guard camp. But Crunch hear them talk.Tonight,
when you all asleep, they come to this island. They going to break up
your boats. Crunch wait until they far away, then come over here to give
warning. Dietz bad man, very—”
Crunch left his sentence hanging in air.He stared in disbelief at the
front of the tent. He was looking at Derek. His eyes swung from Derek to Biff, then back to
Derek and back again from one boy to the other. “Is more magic!” Crunch howled, terror in his voice. He turned to run.“Wait, Crunch. Stop.” Biff ran over to the Indian and took him by the
arm. “It’s no more magic. There are really two of us. Me—I’m Biff. That’s my name. He’s my friend Derek. Come here, Derek.”
Derek joined them.“Touch him, Crunch.”
Crunch’s hand went out carefully. He touched Derek, then drew his hand
back quickly. “You see, Crunch, he’s not a ghost, not a spirit. He’s a real person. Just like I am.The only thing, we look very much alike.”
Crunch could only shake his head. If his faith in Biff had not been so
great, he would have turned and fled. “All right, Crunch. You believe me?You know you’re not just seeing
things?”
Crunch nodded his head slowly. “Okay, Crunch. We want to thank you for giving us this warning.”
“No want you to get hurt.Now Crunch go before boss comes back.”
Biff and Derek walked to the edge of the water with Crunch. “I’ll fix some chow,” Uncle Charlie called. The boys watched Crunch climb into a small dory and row off.He was
facing them as he pulled away, and he was still staring from one boy to
the other. “What do we do now?” Biff asked when he and Derek rejoined Charlie
Keene. “We carry on as if we knew nothing. We’ll explore another place this
morning.We’ll go to Trinité this afternoon and replenish our air and
food supplies. Tonight, we’ll be ready to give Dietz an unexpected
reception.”
The pearl diving that morning was no more productive than it had been
the previous day.Noon found the three in the cabin cruiser, heading for
Trinité. In town, Derek left Biff and his uncle. He was off on his quest
for his father.The three met again at the prearranged hour of six o’clock and embarked
for the return trip to their island camp. Tension mounted as the evening hours on the island dragged slowly by. At
11 P.M. Charlie Keene arose from his cot.He had ordered Biff and Derek
to try and rest. “Let’s go.”
The boys followed Uncle Charlie down to the cabin cruiser and the dory. “You both know what you’re to do?” he asked. “Yes, Mr. Keene,” Derek replied. “All set, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said.“Crunch may or may not be with them. I imagine he will be. But I’m sure
we don’t have to worry about him now. Okay, Derek, into the cruiser. Biff, you and I will hide behind the dory.Derek, you know when to start
and what to do.”
“I do.”
“All right. Take your positions.”
Derek waded out and climbed aboard the cruiser. Biff and his uncle dug
into the sand on the beach side of the dory. Their wait began. It seemed endless.Biff kept glancing at the
illuminated dial of his watch. Twelve o’clock. Twelve-thirty. “Think maybe they found out that Crunch warned us?” Biff asked in a low
voice. “I don’t think so, Biff.How would they?”
Just after one o’clock, Biff and his uncle came alert. From a distance
over the water, they heard the sound of a boat engine. It grew louder as
the boat drew nearer. Then the sound stopped suddenly. Biff was puzzled.“Engine trouble, or have they given up the idea?” he whispered. “Wait,” his uncle whispered back.After a few minutes, a new sound came to their ears: the sound of oars
rasping against oarlocks, the soft splash of oar blades dipping in and
out of the water.Biff knew now why the engine had been cut—so Dietz could approach
without awakening his prey. The sound of a boat grating gently on sand was heard next. Dietz and
Company had made their landing.Biff and his uncle could hear two men
conversing in low voices. The voices came nearer. The enemy was standing
directly across from where Biff and his uncle lay hidden behind the
dory. “Walk up toward the tent, Crunch.” It was Dietz’s voice.“Keep them from
coming down here if they wake up. Okay, Specks, start drilling.”
That was the plot! Drill holes in the dory. Make it unfloatable. What
devilment had they planned for the cruiser? These thoughts flashed
through Biff’s mind.Just as Specks lifted one leg over the gunwale, Charlie Keene, still
hidden, let go with his automatic. Eight shots in rapid succession
shattered the night silence. From the cabin cruiser came blast after blast from the boat’s foghorn._Hurrammppp!_ ... _Hurrammppp!_ ... _Hurrammppp!_
Specks leaped out of the dory. “They’re laying for us,” Dietz shouted.“Run for the boat!”
Uncle Charlie had slipped in another cartridge clip, and this time his
eight rapid-fire shots were aimed just over the heads of the fleeing
Dietz and Specks. Derek kept working the foghorn. The noise tore at the
night.Dietz slipped and fell into the water as he jumped for his boat. Specks
was frantically shoving it off the beach. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Dietz scrambled in. Bullets
from the automatic’s third clip were stinging the water around Dietz’s
boat like angry wasps.The frightened pair finally got their engine started, backed off at full
throttle, swung around and headed out to sea. The foghorn continued its angry growling. “Okay, Derek,” Uncle Charlie called. “Lay off.They’re long gone.”
Derek joined Biff and his uncle, and they watched the light of the
fast-disappearing boat. Then, the tension relieved, the three sank down
on the sand and howled with laughter.When Biff was finally able to control his laughing spell, he got up with
a start. “Crunch!” he exclaimed. “What happened to him? I didn’t see him get in
the boat.”
“He’s probably halfway across the Atlantic by now,” Charlie answered.“Swimming his lungs out to get away from the evil spirits.”
A search of the small island was started. Crunch was found on the far
side, cowering behind a small sand dune.Once the giant Indian had been calmed down—and Biff had to work hard on
him to convince him the evil spirits had fled—Crunch fell to his knees
and with outstretched arms, said to Biff:
“Please. Crunch stay with you now, work for you?Do anything you say. Crunch afraid to go back to boss Dietz.”
“Good for you, Crunch. Glad to have you join us.”
The four walked back to the tent. “I don’t know where you’re going to sleep, Crunch,” Biff said
doubtfully.“Crunch not sleep—stand guard outside tent,” the Indian replied. Biff turned to his uncle. “What’s Dietz trying to accomplish now?” he
asked. “Harassment, Biff. Stalling. Working out a plan.First of all, he wants
to be around when we locate the exact spot of the pearl fishery. Then—well—”
“Then what, Mr. Keene?” Derek asked. “Nothing to worry about, Derek.”
“You’re holding something back, Mr. Keene. I want to know the truth.I
want to know what I’m in for.”
Charlie Keene spoke in a quiet voice. But his words were chilling.“As far as he knows, your father is gone, Derek—if Dietz can get rid of
_you_, then the claim becomes open again.”
CHAPTER XXI
A Gay Deception
Although the attack by Dietz and Company had had a comic ending, Biff,
his uncle, and Derek realized that the next such attack might have more
serious consequences.The three had settled down on the soft white sand. No one spoke, their
minds whirling with thoughts of Dietz. The giant Indian, Crunch, was a
few feet removed, squatting on his huge haunches and chewing on a piece
of salt grass.Charlie Keene looked at his nephew. “Doing some heavy thinking, Biff?” he inquired. “Trying to, Uncle Charlie. Look ...” he paused, then went on. “I have a
feeling that since Dietz failed on this try, he’ll grow even more
desperate.I mean, the next time he tries, he probably won’t be so easy
to scare off.”
“You’re absolutely right, Biff.”
The boy was silent again. He wanted to be clear in his own mind before
he advanced the proposal he had outlined to himself.“Derek, I don’t want you to be offended by what I’m about to say. It’s
just that I want to get my thinking clear.Okay?”
“Nothing you could say, Biff, could make me feel angry with you.”
“Thanks, Derek.” The two boys looked at one another in the starlit
night. The bond of friendship between them had grown stronger with each
passing day. “It’s this, Derek.Finding the pearl fishery is of secondary importance
to you. Finding your father comes first.”
“You know that, Biff.”
Charles Keene waited. He knew his nephew was cooking up a plan. He also
knew that most of Biff’s plans had merit.“Well, then,” Biff continued. “As I see it, we’re faced with two big
problems. First, if we abandon our search for the pearl fishery, to
devote all our time to looking for your father, then we give Dietz a
wide-open field to try to find the fishery.That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t, Biff. But I must find my father,” Derek replied
earnestly. “Very true, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “It’s quite a problem.” Charles
Keene offered no suggestions.He was anxious to see how his nephew would
attack the problem, what solution he might come up with.“Uncle Charlie, a few moments ago you used the word ‘harassment.’ You
said that would be the chief tactic used by Dietz to delay our locating
the pearl fishery,” Biff said. “He’ll double his efforts if I’m any judge.What’s on your mind?”
“If we can pull it off—” Biff was thinking out loud. “Pull what off, Biff?” Derek asked. “I’ve got a plan. I want to know what you and Uncle Charlie think of
it.”
“Fire away, Biff,” his uncle invited. “It’s this.Suppose tomorrow, we pretend to find the fishery. We’ll fire
off guns. Blast off on the boat horn. Dance around the beach like mad. In full sight of Dietz, of course. Make him think we’ve located the
site.Only, of course, we’ll do all this where we know there are no
pearls. We’ll put on our act at one of the first places we tackled,
before Dietz became so vigilant. What do you think?”
“You’ve got something there, Biff.I’m proud of you,” Biff’s uncle
replied. “It would be fun, too, to fool Dietz,” Derek chimed in excitedly. “To make it even more convincing,” Biff went on, “we could break camp
tomorrow afternoon. Pull out fast. Dietz wouldn’t follow us immediately.Not until he’d done some diving and oyster shucking himself. He’d surely
want to make certain we had located the fishery.”
“You’re darn right he would,” Charles Keene said.“That would give us a chance to get back to Trinité, slip out of town,
and really concentrate on looking for your father.”
Biff paused. He looked first at Derek. He felt sure Derek would be
enthusiastic about his plan. Then he looked at his uncle.He knew his
uncle was considering the plan in every detail. Uncle Charlie finally spoke. “Well, Biff, I like your plan.You didn’t
know this, of course, but I was getting more and more worried about
having you and Derek on the bottom of the ocean, with Dietz in his
high-powered boat ready to strike at any moment.Calling off the pearl
search for the time being makes a lot of sense.”
“And maybe we’ll find my father,” Derek said. “If he’s on the island, we’ll find him,” Charles Keene said. He spoke
with more conviction than he felt, to cheer the Dutch boy up.Privately,
he had many doubts as to the possibility of finding Derek’s father. “Crunch go along. Help find lost white man.”
It was the first time the giant Indian had spoken. Biff shot a fast glance at his uncle. Charles Keene shook his head.The
motion was barely noticeable. But Biff got it. He knew his uncle had
some other plan for the Carib. “I don’t know, Crunch,” Biff said. He knew the Indian wanted to remain
in the party.“I think maybe my uncle has an idea where you could be a
lot more help. Right, Uncle Charlie?”
Charles Keene turned to the Indian. “If you want to be a big help to us, Crunch, it would be better for you
to go back to Dietz.”
“No like Dietz.Bad man.”
“We know that, Crunch. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
But, while we’re gone—it will only be a few
days—you can keep an eye on Dietz. You’d still be on our side, but Dietz
wouldn’t know that. He’d think you were still working for him.You’d be
our spy.”
“Crunch a spy?”
From the tone of the Indian’s voice, Biff could tell that Crunch was
pleased. He liked the idea of being a spy. “That’s right, Crunch,” Uncle Charlie continued.“You’d pretend to be
still working for him, but you’d watch everything he did. He might even
find the pearl fishery, and we’d surely want to know about that. Then,
when we got back, you could tell us everything that had been going on.How about it?”
“Crunch do it. He go now.”
The Indian rose to his feet and faded into the night for his half-mile
swim back to the island camp of the enemy.Biff wondered what kind of a
reception he would receive from Dietz but felt sure Crunch could take
care of himself. The next morning the boys and Charles Keene were up at the first crack
of dawn.Over a hasty breakfast, they went over their plan for the last
time. As the sun boiled up out of the Atlantic, the three headed out to
sea.It wasn’t long before they saw Dietz’s boat come into sight, rocking
above the horizon off their starboard side. “Here we go,” Charles Keene said. “Drop anchor.”
Derek heaved the hook over. Biff was already donning his diving
apparatus.Derek was only a few moments behind as Biff slipped into the
warm waters of the Caribbean and made his descent. The boys stayed down for about half an hour. When they surfaced and
climbed aboard, Biff cracked open an oyster.Immediately, he let out a
shout and danced up and down. Derek joined in the deception. Charlie Keene put his head together with
the two boys, and for several moments they carefully inspected an
imaginary pearl in Biff’s empty hand.They all knew Dietz was observing their actions through powerful
binoculars. With happy shouts that bounced across the waves and reached Dietz’s
boat, Biff and Derek plunged back into the water. They sent up several
more baskets of oysters.When they surfaced and climbed back into the
boat, they shucked a few more oysters. Then Charles Keene shook each
boy’s hand and clapped them on the back. “Up anchor!” Charlie shouted. He started the motor. The boat raced back
to the camp site.“Look back over your shoulder, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said. Dietz had brought his boat into the area just abandoned by the boys and
Uncle Charlie. “Isn’t he dropping a marking buoy right about where we were?” Biff
asked.“He sure is.”
“Then we did fool him!” Derek sang out happily. “For the time being, at least. But we’ve got to move fast. He’ll be
sampling oysters from that same bed as fast as he can.”
The three struck camp quickly.They loaded their gear into the cabin
cruiser. With a triumphant blast on the boat horn and a burst of shots
from Charles Keene’s gun, they pointed the bow of the cruiser toward La
Trinité. They passed within a quarter of a mile of Dietz’s boat.They could see
Dietz hauling in lines holding the baskets of oysters which Specks had
filled on the bottom. They didn’t see Crunch. He must have been pressed
into oyster diving also.Ten minutes later, they could barely see Dietz’s white boat bobbing on
the blue water over the imaginary pearl bed. “We pulled it off, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said. “That we did, Biffo me lad.”
“And now we can hunt for my father,” Derek added.“And we’ll find him, too!” Biff said confidently. Charles Keene frowned. He erased the frown quickly, but not so fast that
Biff missed it. Biff knew his uncle believed that Brom Zook must have been lost at sea.The thought sent Biff’s high spirits plunging downward. CHAPTER XXII
Dashed Hopes
In La Trinité, Biff, his uncle, and Derek moved about with haste.Following a speedy lunch, they shopped for enough supplies to last them
for their expedition into the interior of Martinique. “Step lively, boys,” Uncle Charlie urged. “It won’t take Dietz long to
find out he’s been fooled.And we don’t want him hounding us on this
search.”
“Uncle Charlie,” Biff said, “if Dietz comes into Trinité and finds our
boat still moored in Treasure Bay, won’t he know we’re still somewhere
nearby?”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take, Biff.”
“But if we took the boat up the coast—got it away from here—that would
cause him further delay, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re right again, Biff.”
“But why would Dietz want to follow us when we’re searching for my
father?” Derek asked.“He wants to know about your father as much as we do. But for different
reasons,” Charles Keene replied, a frown darkening his face. Derek thought this over.“If we learn some bad news about my father—if
we should learn he really is gone—” Derek gulped. He couldn’t bring
himself to say out loud that they might find out that Brom Zook was
dead.“If that is how our search should end, then you mean there could
be some doubt as to whether the claim he originally filed is still
valid?”
“Afraid so, Derek. I believe your claim would be supported in time.But
there would be delay after delay as Dietz went to the courts to try to
have it invalidated.”
“I see.”
Biff wanted to get his friend Derek’s mind away from such depressing
thoughts. “About the boat again, Uncle Charlie.Why don’t we go around the point,
head north along the coast, and find a sheltered harbor where we could
hide the boat? Then we could head inland from there.”
“That’s what we’ll do, Biff. And let’s do it right away,” his uncle
agreed.They made a run of about ten miles along the east coast of Martinique
and found a small cove between Ste. Marie and Marigot.They beached the
boat and covered it with the lacy leaves of the giant fern trees which
grow to a height of twenty feet on Martinique. Over the ferns they
spread palm fronds. The boat was completely hidden.From the beach, they could see the peak of Mt. Pelée, rising nearly five
thousand feet in the air. “Boys, what do you say we make Pelée our first goal?” Charles Keene
suggested.“Your searches haven’t brought you that far north and east,
have they, Derek?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay. Let’s move out then.”
Each of the three slung a pack over his shoulders, and they plunged into
the thick tropical growth. Biff was enjoying himself.If the object of their search hadn’t been
such a serious one, if his feeling that the search might have an unhappy
ending hadn’t been so strong, then the exploration would have been even
more fun.Martinique, Biff soon discovered, was truly a beautiful island, one of
the most beautiful places in which he had ever been. From the top of
steep ridges, the lush, fertile valleys of the island spread out below.Rugged peaks rose like steeples above the ridges. In the rich valleys, they crossed through sugar-cane fields. Biff took his knife and slashed a stock down. Its sweet juices oozed out
of the slash. Biff pressed the stock to his lips and sucked deeply.“Try one, Derek. Tastes good,” he said. Banana trees grew wild almost everywhere they went. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Derek shinned up the
rough, fat trunk of one tree and yanked down a bunch. He squirreled back
down the tree and plopped on the ground to inspect his haul.Derek’s
hands were exploring the bunch, trying to select the ripest, fattest
banana when Charlie Keene leaped to his side and struck the Dutch boy’s
arm a sharp blow. Derek looked around in amazed alarm.Charles Keene was stamping on a hairy black spider. He had spotted the
ugly insect on Derek’s shoulder and with one swift blow had knocked the
spider to the ground. “What’s the matter, Mr. Keene?” Derek looked frightened. “Close call, Derek.That spider I just knocked off your arm is called
_matoutou falaise_. That’s the local French name for the most poisonous
spider on the island. They make their nests in bananas.”
Derek’s face went white. “It’s all right now. I got him.But after this, be mighty careful when
you pick a banana,” Uncle Charlie warned. Now and again the party would pass a small thatched hut. At each one,
they asked questions of the inhabitants.“A tall man, very thin, with almost white hair,” was the description
they gave of Brom Zook. “He’s been missing over three months.”
The natives would only shake their heads.No, they had seen no such man,
nor had they heard of such a stranger in these parts. For three days the party trudged up and down the ridges and peaks of the
island. They questioned a hundred or more people.They went to Deux
Choux, to Morne Vert, Le Lorrain, Grande Rivière, and towns even
smaller. Nowhere did they get any leads to a missing Hollander named
Brom Zook.By the fourth day of the search, it was plain to Biff and his uncle that
Derek was becoming more and more discouraged, more and more
disheartened. They tried their best to cheer up the Dutch lad. At the end of the day, they reached the top of Mt.Pelée. Looking down
at the sea, they could pick out the ruins of Saint-Pierre. Once, Uncle
Charlie told the boys, Saint-Pierre had been the largest city on the
island. Then, in the early morning hours, tragedy had struck.“You know the story about Saint-Pierre and Mt. Pelée, Biff?” Uncle
Charlie asked. “You must have heard it, Derek, when you were growing up
in Curaçao.”
Derek shook his head.“No, I don’t remember it, Mr. Keene.”
“It was just after the turn of the century, around 1902, I believe. Saint-Pierre then had a population of thirty thousand people. Early one
morning, as the city slept, Mt. Pelée erupted.It shot forth a sheet of
flame and molten lava. In a matter of only a few seconds, thirty
thousand people were dead. Most of them died in their beds.”
“The whole city wiped out? In seconds?” Biff asked incredulously.“That’s right, Biff,” Charlie Keene said. “There was only one survivor.”
“How could one person survive when thirty thousand others perished?”
Biff demanded. “It’s a most unusual story. This person was a prisoner in Saint-Pierre.He was in solitary confinement. The cell he was in had stone walls
several feet thick. That’s what saved him. The walls were so thick they
resisted the heat.The prisoner didn’t even know about the catastrophe
until several days later when rescue crews explored the prison.”
Biff could only shake his head. That night they camped on top of the volcano and went into Saint-Pierre
the next morning.“As you can see,” Uncle Charlie pointed out, “the town
has been partly rebuilt. But today, only six thousand persons live here
where, fifty years ago, Saint-Pierre had thirty thousand residents.”
Inquiries were made at the police station.The three searchers could
hardly believe their ears. They received their first lead.“No, I do not know the man’s name,” the police officer said, “but a man
of such a description as you give has been staying in a small pension
just outside the city for the last few months.”
“Where? Where is it?” Derek cried out.“I will be only too happy to take you there,” the courteous officer
replied. They rode through the volcanic ruins of Saint-Pierre toward the gentle
slope that led toward Mt. Pelée.Although some sections had been built
up, there were still plenty of signs of the savage destruction caused by
Mt. Pelée’s eruption over half a century before. Derek was in the front seat with the police officer.Biff and Charles
Keene were in the rear seat. Biff had his fingers crossed. Both the boy
and his uncle were praying that the man the police officer referred to
might be Derek’s father. The car drew up before a small vine-covered house.Derek leaped out. The
police officer led the way. Biff and Charles Keene were right behind. A broad veranda swept round three sides of the house. The officer made
an inquiry, then motioned Derek to follow him. Biff was a step behind Derek.At the far end of the veranda, they could
see a man sitting in a high-backed wicker chair, his back to them. As they approached the chair, Biff kept his eyes on Derek. The Dutch boy
rushed forward and turned to confront the man in the chair.Biff watched
the expression on Derek’s face. Biff read his answer from the disappointment which spread over his
friend’s features. The man was not Brom Zook.CHAPTER XXIII
Dietz Again
In the morning, the three breakfasted in silence. Biff wanted to say
something to cheer up Derek. But what was there to say? Derek’s face was
white and drawn.It was plain to see that the Dutch boy had had little
if any sleep the night before. It was Derek who broke the silence. “I want to thank you both,” he said.“But I don’t feel that I can ask
you to continue this search any longer.”
“We’ll go along with you just as long as you want us to,” Biff spoke up
loyally. “Right, Uncle Charlie?”
“Certainly, Biff.”
“No. It’s no use,” Derek continued.“Not in this section of Martinique. I’m sure that if my father were anywhere around here, we’d have heard
something about it—some rumor, some tale of a tall white man.”
“I agree with you there, Derek,” Charles Keene said.“But there is much
of Martinique still to be searched. The southern part, down around
English Bay. That’s south of the spot where we believe your father
located the pearl fishery.He might have gone into hiding down that
way.”
“You mean, don’t you, Mr. Keene,” Derek said bravely, “that if he was
lost at sea, and washed ashore, then it would be in that section of
Martinique?”
Charles Keene didn’t reply.Derek had read his thoughts. Right after breakfast, the three headed back across Martinique toward
the cove where they had hidden their boat. It was about a twenty-mile
trip, and they reached the spot just at dark.“I think we’d better spend the night here,” Uncle Charlie said. “I don’t
know this coast too well.Might run into a reef if we try to make it to
Trinité tonight.”
Exhausted from their long and fruitless search, the three slept that
night under a clear sky, the sleep of the overtired. The sun was already
up and blazing when they woke.A quick swim refreshed them after their
hard sleep, and half an hour later they were on their way back down the
coast. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
They reached Trinité by midmorning. After mooring the boat, they held a conference. “What are your plans now, Derek?” Biff asked.“Well, we could continue searching for the pearl fishery. Or—”
“Or we could go south and look for your father,” Biff completed Derek’s
thought. “What about this?” Uncle Charlie cut in.“Suppose Biff and I keep on
looking for the pearls and you go off for a few days on your own?”
Biff frowned at these words.He knew his uncle’s intentions were good,
but he also felt that if Derek left them, he’d be cut off from the only
friends he had on Martinique. He’d be lonely and engaged in a search
with his heart heavy at the prospect of what he might discover.Biff didn’t quite know how to tell his uncle this. He didn’t want to
contradict him. He didn’t have to. As he was puzzling a way out of the
suggestion made by his uncle, he heard a shout. He looked in the
direction the hail had come from.Lumbering down the dock, a broad grin
on his strong face, came Crunch. The giant Indian was delighted to rejoin Biff, his uncle, and Derek. Brilliant white teeth glinted in the sunlight as Crunch wore a perpetual
grin on his face.“What about Dietz?” Uncle Charlie asked. “Did he locate the pearl fishery while we were gone?” Biff’s question
tumbled out after his uncle’s. “No find fishery,” Crunch said, still grinning. “Dietz look hard,
though.Very mad when he find how you fool him.”
“Good,” Biff said. All of them smiled at his news. “But Dietz do something else,” Crunch went on. “Him get some kind of
paper from government.”
“What do you mean, Crunch?What sort of paper?” Charles Keene asked. “Crunch not understand. Ask questions though. Paper say maybe you don’t
find fishery very sudden, then claim no good any more.”
“How can that be, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked. “I don’t know, Biff.I’d have to see a copy of it.”
“Copy of paper nailed up in post office,” Crunch said. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!”
They leaped into a native taxi, urging the driver to speed and more
speed.The taxi creaked and groaned, but it got them there. In the post office the three read the copy of the document carefully. “It’s not so good, is it, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked. “No, it isn’t.”
“I don’t quite understand it, Mr. Keene,” Derek said.“Well, Derek, cutting through the legal phraseology, it comes down to
this: Dietz went to Fort-de-France while we were searching for your
father. He has challenged your right to the claim, on the grounds that
you’re a minor.How old are you, Derek?”
“I’ll be eighteen my next birthday.”
“Well, what Dietz has obtained—in legal terms—is a temporary injunction. It goes into effect five days from now.At that time, the claim and the
working permit will be suspended until the courts decide whether Derek
is the rightful heir to the claim.I’m sorry, Derek,” Charlie Keene said
soberly, “but Dietz has obtained this injunction on the grounds that
your father is deceased.”
After a few moments silence, Biff spoke up. “We still have five days,
then, to find the fishery.If we did, how would that affect the
injunction?”
“Well, going back to the unwritten law of ‘finders keepers,’ Derek would
have an excellent chance of retaining the rights, despite any court
battle Dietz might put up.”
“What do you say, Derek?” Biff asked.“Shall we go pearl diving again? I
know you want to continue the search for your father, but—”
“I’m with you, Biff.It’s only five days.”
“And then, whether we find the fishery or not, we’ll all continue
looking for your father until the case comes up in court.”
“One moment there, young fellow,” Uncle Charlie cut in. “I’ll continue
with Derek._You_ won’t be here.”
“Won’t be here!” Biff was amazed. “Where am I going to be?”
“On your way back to Indianapolis.”
“Oh. School. I forgot.” Biff’s face fell. “But we’ve got five days still. Let’s make the most of them,” said his
uncle.It took them two hours to restock their supplies, get air for the diving
tanks, and return to the dock. At the end of the dock, lounging against
a mooring post, was Dietz. He had an evil expression of triumph on his
face.“Don’t you ever give up?” he said. Specks hovered behind him. None of the three answered their enemy. They got into the boat and
prepared to cast off. “Hey? Come back here!Where do you think you’re going?”
Dietz’s startled question was directed at Crunch. Crunch had jumped into
the boat with the others. “Crunch go with friends.No work for bad man any more.”
“You’ll still be working for me!” Dietz shouted back in anger.“If you
find the fishery, you’ll be finding it for me, because I’ll win it in
court!”
CHAPTER XXIV
Attack from the Deep
For the next three days, activity went on at a feverish pace.Camp was
hastily set up again on the same island, and even when it was late in
the day, Biff, Derek, and Uncle Charlie would try another spot hoping to
locate the fishery. They dived from sunup to sundown.The only rest period for Biff and
Derek came when Uncle Charlie dashed into Trinité to replenish the air
tanks. The piles of shucked oyster shells grew higher and higher. No pearls
were found.The boys worked desperately against time, but as the first
day passed, then the second, then the third, they worked with heavy
hearts. The time limit was drawing near. Dietz made no further attacks.He was content now to fight his battle in
the courts. But the pearl fishers knew he was still in the area. They
saw his boat from time to time. He was keeping his distance, but he was
still watching.However, even by using binoculars, Dietz would be unable to determine
whether the boys located the pearl fishery. He could only learn this by
finding out the results of the daily diving. He would have to know what
the opened oysters yielded.For this reason, a nightly guard was kept. Although Dietz was going to use the courts, the search party didn’t want
him to know if and when they did locate the fishery. Crunch insisted on
taking the night guard duty. He also worked during the day.Biff often
wondered when the big Indian slept. Although the danger from Dietz had lessened, Charlie Keene kept
reminding the boys of the danger that always awaited them when they were
diving.It struck suddenly and viciously on the fourth morning of their diving. Biff and Derek were down in forty-eight feet of water. They had been
digging out oysters for half an hour. Basket after basket had been
hauled up.Waiting for his basket to be lowered to him, Biff was suddenly spun
around by a swirl of water. It felt as if he had been caught in a
whirlpool. Biff cleared his mask. He looked around. Coming at him out of
the murky dark waters was a giant shark.The killer swept by within a
foot, then turned and slashed back. Biff looked frantically for Derek. He saw his glimmering white shape ten
feet away. Approaching Derek was a second shark. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
The sharks hadn’t struck yet.It seemed they were inspecting their prey,
waiting before their razor-sharp teeth tore at the boys’ bodies. Biff
swam quickly over to Derek. He grabbed his arm and pointed. The two huge
sharks were motionless, their wicked eyes on the boys. [Illustration: _Coming at him out of the murky dark waters was a giant
shark_]
Biff took a deep breath, raised his mask just enough to clear his mouth,
and shouted as loud as he could.His shout, of course, made no sound. But Biff knew that the force of the breath expelled by his shout would
send a shock wave in the direction of the sharks. He had read that this
was one of the best ways of delaying an attack by an undersea monster.The shout worked. The sharks swam around the boys in circles. But Biff
knew that any second they would strike. There was no time now to go by the book in getting to the surface.Biff
jammed his face mask on, quickly cleared it of water, grabbed Derek by
the arm, and shoved him upward. He himself followed, propelling himself
as fast as he could. Both boys had jettisoned their belts instantly.Breaking the surface, Biff gasped to his uncle, “Sharks!”
Charlie Keene lost no time. He grabbed Derek, who was closer, and hauled
him into the boat. Crunch lifted Biff in.They were no sooner in the boat than two shark fins cut the water,
circling nearer and nearer to the craft. Biff and Derek lay gasping on the bottom of the boat. Their rapid ascent
had drained their bodies of oxygen and strength.Biff’s uncle quickly started the motor and got away from the spot at
full speed. He had seen the size of the sharks. They were big enough to
overturn the dory if they struck. By the time they reached the island camp, the boys had somewhat
recovered.But Biff was still shaking as if he had a chill, and Derek’s
face was drawn and white. The narrow escape the boys had undergone was not without its reward,
however.All four of the pearl fishers—Crunch was now one of them—were shucking
oysters after a rest and the noonday meal.Biff, growing more and more bored with the tough job of opening and
examining oysters, was about to discard a shell when he noticed a raised
protuberance in the exact center on the shell.He took off his glove and
dug at the raised part with a fingernail. His excitement grew. Seconds
later he dug out an almost perfectly shaped white pearl. “I’ve got one! I’ve got one!” he shouted. The others crowded around him.Biff handed the pearl to his uncle. Charlie Keene inspected it carefully. “I’m no expert, Biff. But the color, and particularly the shape, of this
pearl—I’d say you’ve found a really valuable one.”
“How much? How much is it worth?”
“I couldn’t tell.Only an expert could. But it’s a white pearl—they’re
the most valuable. And it’s almost perfectly round. It could be worth
several thousands of dollars.”
“Whoopee!” Biff shouted. “Let me at more of those oysters!”
Interest quickened.The four worked in silence, but they worked fast. Oyster after oyster was opened, carefully inspected, then tossed aside. Derek found the next one. It, too, was perfectly shaped, but slightly
smaller than the one Biff had found.It was Crunch who came through with the topper. A big grin on his face,
Crunch came over to Biff and held our his huge hand. In the center of
his palm was a pearl twice the size of those already found. “This is it! This is it!Look at Crunch’s pearl!”
Again they all crowded around. This was a real beauty. It didn’t take an
expert to know that Crunch had found a pearl of great value. “Think we’ve found it, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked.“I mean the fishery
Derek’s father discovered?”
“It could be, Biff. It darn well could be.”
Biff looked at Derek. There was a smile on the Dutch boy’s face. Then
the smile disappeared. “What’s the matter, Derek?” Biff asked.“My father found black pearls,” Derek replied. “They’re all colors, Derek,” Uncle Charlie told him. “Actually, the
black ones aren’t as valuable as the white.They’re valuable, all right,
especially if they’re perfectly matched, as those two your father sent
us were.”
“I’d feel a lot more certain that we’d found the right place if we found
some black ones.”
“Let’s go back down when we finish these oysters,” Biff said.“With all those sharks?”
“Funny thing about sharks,” Uncle Charlie said. “Although they are the
pearl diver’s greatest enemy, they can also help produce the pearl.”
“How?” Biff wanted to know. “The best pearl is the perfectly round pearl.The foreign body which
gets into the oyster must be perfectly round to produce the perfect
pearl. These round objects are the eggs of parasitic worms.The adult
worms are the parasites of sharks.”
“So where you find sharks, you can find pearls?” Biff asked. “Not exactly, Biff.What I mean is this: where there are pearl
fisheries, the perfect pearls come from the eggs the shark’s parasites
lay.”
No more pearls were found in the batch dug that morning. It was growing
late in the afternoon.They decided to go back to the morning’s site,
and if no sharks were in evidence, they’d try half an hour’s diving. They returned to the same site. Biff and Derek went overside.Before
they started scooping up oysters, they made sure no sharks were around. Biff loaded one basket and sent it up. He saw Derek send one up. Biff
filled another. He looked at his watch. They’d been down twenty minutes.“One more basket,” Biff said to himself, “and we’ll call it a day.” He
turned in Derek’s direction to signal to him that this was the last
basket. Roiling water ahead pushed an alarm button in Biff’s mind. He
increased his speed.Derek was being attacked savagely by giant band shells. They swarmed
around him, slashing at him with their claw-shaped, horny shells. Biff whipped out his knife and shot into action.The giant band shells, many times the size of the ordinary conch shell,
are the only known shell fish to attack human beings. They have a tough,
scimitar-shaped muscle which they use as a door to close the opening at
the large end of the shell.While other conches use this muscle only as
a door, the giant band shell uses it as a weapon. The end of the muscle
is hooked and razor sharp.The giant band shell springs at a man, using
a second muscle to propel itself, then slashes and cuts with its “door.”
In moments, it can cut a man’s body to shreds. These giants were surrounding Derek.Up close, Biff could see Derek had
already received several cuts. Biff knew what this meant. Sharks would
come racing through the water, crazed with hunger by the smell of blood. Biff slashed away at the band shells with his knife. It did no good.The
giant shells continued their attack, some of them turning on Biff. There
was only one thing to do. Derek was nearly helpless. Biff grabbed him. He shoved him upward with all his strength. Derek disappeared above him.Now the band shells turned their full attack on Biff. He fought them
off, trying at the same time to rise. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Several of them tried to fasten
onto Biff’s legs. He kicked out desperately. He thrust down with his
open hands and shot upward.The slower moving band shells were left
behind. Biff reached the surface. He lost no time in scrambling into the
boat. Uncle Charlie already had pulled Derek, bleeding, into the boat. Biff just made it.No sooner was he in the boat than the waters around
it boiled with maddened sharks, searching for the source of the blood. CHAPTER XXV
A Double Find
Derek’s cuts from the giant band shells were many but not deep ones.Biff and his uncle cleaned the cuts, treated them with a disinfectant,
and put Derek to bed. The Dutch boy was not seriously wounded, but he was suffering from
shock. The thing to do, Biff knew, was to keep him warm and quiet.Charlie Keene gave Derek half a sleeping tablet, and the boy finally
dozed off. “What a day! Two narrow escapes. We should never have gone back,”
Charles Keene said.“You didn’t tell me there were clam and conch shells
in that bed.”
“Didn’t know they were dangerous,” Biff replied. “And just to see if we could find some black pearls,” his uncle
commented. “Let’s open the oysters we dug,” Biff suggested.“Derek seems to be all
right.”
An hour later, Biff came back to the tent. Derek stirred restlessly in
his sleep. Biff lighted a lamp Derek suddenly sat upright. Biff went to
his side. “You all right, Derek?” Biff asked. “I—I guess so. I was dreaming.But—” Derek touched a bandaged cut
gingerly. “Sure, I’m all right.”
“This may make you feel even better.”
Biff held out his hand. He thrust it under Derek’s eyes. The hand held a
black pearl.The next morning, convinced they had located Brom Zook’s fabulous pearl
fishery, camp was broken. Gear was stored in the cabin cruiser. The tent
was struck. By noon the four pearl searchers were back in La Trinité.The party’s happiness was mingled with sadness. One adventure was over. Derek’s father’s claim was safe. The quest had been successful. But Brom
Zook, Derek’s father, was still missing. “I can’t ask you to stay with me any longer,” Derek said.“You’ve done
more than enough for me.”
“I’ll stick with you as long as you want me to, Derek,” Charlie Keene
said. “That goes for me, too, Derek,” Biff added, hoping his uncle would not
mention school.“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stay on in Martinique for a while. I’m going to every town
and village on the island until I make as certain as possible my father
isn’t here. Then—then—” Derek stopped.Biff knew what his friend was thinking. He knew that Derek would then
have to come to the conclusion that his father had been lost at sea. “What about you, Crunch? Where are you going?”
“Crunch go back up mountains.Stay with little brother for while.”
“You found him? You didn’t tell us that!” Biff exclaimed. “You too busy finding pearls. Crunch no want to bother you.”
“Well, we said we’d try to clear your brother.We still mean to do so,
don’t we, Uncle Charlie?”
“We certainly do, Crunch.”
“You come with Crunch to talk to little brother?”
“You bet, Crunch,” Biff replied. “Maybe Crunch can help Derek too,” the Indian said. “How?What do you mean?” Biff demanded. “Crunch maybe help Derek find father.”
Derek touched the Indian on the arm. “Anything you do will help, Crunch. But have you any clue?”
“Crunch not sure.Hear about white man up in mountain called Carbet.”
Derek grabbed the Indian by both shoulders and shook him. “Tell me! Tell
me about the white man,” he urged. “Little brother tell story. Little brother live in mountains, in small
shack.Tell about sick white man. White man come to mountains two
months, maybe three months, maybe more. Long time ago. Get very sick. Priests take white man in. Maybe your father.”
“Can we go there right now?” Derek asked excitedly. “Take long time.Hard trip up mountains.”
They started out late that afternoon. Night overtook the party before
their journey was half completed. Exhausted by the hard day and the
excitement of Crunch’s clue, the first real one Derek had, all four
slept in the open.By midmorning the next day, they reached the shack where Crunch’s
brother Moti lived. Moti told the same story Crunch had told the day
before. “Is this place far from here?” Derek asked eagerly. “One hour away,” Moti replied.From Moti’s description of the place, Uncle Charlie came to the
conclusion it was a small monastery. Moti led them to it. A bearded monk took them inside. Derek babbled out
the story of his search. The monk bowed his head. “Please wait,” he said.The monk went down a long, narrow passage. He turned a corner and was
out of sight. Derek’s heart was throbbing. Biff and his uncle were tense with hope. Minutes passed. The shuffling of feet was heard.The monk was halfway
back to the waiting group when another figure came into the passage. He
was tall, gaunt, wasted by illness. But there was a smile of happiness on his face. Derek Zook raced down the passageway to meet his father. * * * * * * * *
Biff, his uncle, Derek, and his father were sitting in the patio of the
Sans Souci. Hummingbirds darted in and out of the bougainvillea which
poured over the terrace. It was the afternoon of the day after Brom Zook
had been found.Brom Zook’s story was short. On the day he had mailed the letters and
pearls to his son and to Charles Keene, he discovered he was being
followed. He had thought it best to disappear into the hills until his
claim could be filed and acted upon.In the hills, he had become ill of a tropical fever. He had been found
by a monk and carried to the monastery. There he had lain close to death
for weeks, not knowing what was going on about him.Only in the last two weeks had he come back to his senses. The monks had
insisted that he stay with them until he was strong enough to travel. “Well, I guess that about winds up my stay here in the Caribbean,” Biff
said.“I’ve got to get back to good old Indianapolis and school.”
“We’ll hate to see you go, Biff,” Derek said. “Won’t you come back and
visit us?”
“Or maybe you could come to Indianapolis,” Biff invited. “I’d like to,” Derek said eagerly.“One more piece of business,” Uncle Charlie cut in. “What’s that, Keene?” Brom Zook asked. “I’d like to make sure that we found the same pearl fishery you
discovered.”
“Good idea.” Brom Zook glanced at his watch. “I’m anxious to get back to
Curaçao.Why don’t you get everything ready, and the boys and I will
take a run down the coast in the boat? They can show me their spot.”
“Good. You ought to be back in a couple of hours. I’ll find Crunch, and
he can help me,” Charlie said.“What about Crunch, Uncle Charlie? Is he going back with us?”
“No, Biff. He’s going to stay here until I send back word about his
brother. I talked to Moti.I feel sure we can straighten things out in
Curaçao.”
“Tell Crunch and Moti they can count on that,” Brom Zook said. The run down the coast was a pleasant one. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Biff steered the cruiser over
the spot where they had located the pearls.“Does this look like the place, sir?” Biff asked. Brom Zook took a sight on an island to the cruiser’s portside. “This is it, all right.And there should be thousands of dollars’ worth
of pearls beneath us.”
As Biff, Derek, and his father were approaching the harbor in Baie du
Trésor, they saw Dietz and Specks in their boat, heading in the
direction of the pearl fishery.“Won’t do them any good now,” Brom Zook said. “The injunction he
obtained has been cancelled.”
They watched the boat until it was nearly out of sight. “Look!” Derek shouted excitedly. Brom Zook and Biff looked in the direction Derek was pointing.They saw
the ugly, menacing clouds, forerunners of a _chabasco_. “It’ll strike in a few moments,” Brom Zook said. “And right at the spot we last saw Dietz,” Biff shouted. The winds were
already getting heavier in the harbor.“We can do nothing to help them. We’re too far away.” Derek’s father
said soberly. The _chabasco_ struck. Dietz’s boat was right in the center of its fury. There was little chance that he and Specks would escape the storm’s
vengeance._A Biff Brewster Mystery Adventure_
MYSTERY OF
THE CARIBBEAN PEARLS
By ANDY ADAMS
A mirror-image “twin” with a Continental accent, a pair of matched
_black_ pearls coveted by a sinister would-be claim-jumper, and a
mammoth Carib Indian who refrains from crushing a man at the command of
“voodoo” spirits confront Biff Brewster when he leaves his Indianapolis
home to answer an urgent SOS from his uncle, Charles Keene.Keene, on a trouble-shooting assignment in the Netherlands, Antilles,
sends the SOS in a desperate, last-ditch attempt to save a valuable
pearl fishery, belonging to his friend, Brom Zook, from being “staked”
by thieves.Zook, who must prove his right to the pearl fishery claim
within the set time limit, has mysteriously disappeared.Biff and Derek, Brom Zook’s seventeen-year-old son, accidentally board
the same plane in Miami and innocently exchange “identities” to play a
joke.However, the joke backfires when Biff is kidnapped at the
Willemstad Airport by the unscrupulous adventurers who want the pearl
fishery. But Biff, no stranger to mystery or challenging situations, uses his
head and his courage at the crucial moments.His adventures in
captivity, his use of “voodoo” to engineer escapes, his repeated changes
of identity with his “twin,” Derek, their search for the lost pearl
fishery and its rightful owner, and their final triumph over their
adversaries are component parts of the tale told in _Mystery of the
Caribbean Pearls_.The
Bret King
MYSTERY STORIES
By DAN SCOTT
THE MYSTERY OF GHOST CANYON
Truck rustlers butcher cattle on Rimrock Ranch, confronting Bret with
Western outlaws who combine thievery with science to outwit the law.THE SECRET OF HERMIT’S PEAK
When a wild mountain lion and a gang of thieves invade Desolation Peak
at the same time, Bret unlocks the fascinating secret of the mountain.THE RANGE RODEO MYSTERY
From the moment the cow town of Tovar plans a revival of its colorful
local rodeo, trouble stampedes Rimrock Ranch, until Bret outsmarts a
band of big-time gangsters.THE MYSTERY OF RAWHIDE GAP
Bret and his plane become involved in an international mix-up,
uncovering a bizarre underground plot aimed at the federal government of
the United States.THE MYSTERY AT BLIZZARD MESA
The Navajo reservation is snowbound, and Bret King and his friends join
the emergency airlift, only to run headfirst into treachery and
skulduggery.THE SECRET OF FORT PIONEER
Bret King and his friends become interested in a “jinxed” movie company
which has been hampered by bad weather, bad tempers, and a series of
sinister mishaps.GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_
New York 10, N. Y.
Transcriber’s Notes
--Silently corrected a few typos.--Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook
is public-domain in the country of publication. --In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls |
Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: _The boys passed booths selling everything from hot soups
to shiny silks_]
A BIFF BREWSTER
MYSTERY ADVENTURE
MYSTERY
OF THE
CHINESE
RING
By ANDY ADAMS
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
(c) GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1960
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I A Mysterious Gift 1
II Beware, Biff!8
III Under Chinese Eyes 13
IV A Fortune Cooky 22
V Jack Hudson 31
VI Interrupted Message 39
VII A "Spirited" Box 49
VIII Still Missing 55
IX Into the Jungle 64
X The Barrier 70
XI Inside China 81
XII Shooting the Yangtze Rapids 90
XIII The First Clue 101
XIV The Circling Plane 112
XV Bandits!120
XVI Strange Discovery 128
XVII A Red Hot Lead 135
XVIII The House of Kwang 144
XIX Uncle Charlie's Story 152
XX Muscles "Muscles" In 161
XXI Out of the Frying Pan 168
XXII Hong Kong and Points East 175
MYSTERY OF THE CHINESE RING
CHAPTER 1
A Mysterious Gift
Biff Brewster was suddenly awake--wide awake.The gray light of dawn
outlined the window of his first-floor bedroom. Something--or
someone--was outside. He felt sure of it. Something had prodded him out
of his deep sleep with startling suddenness.For a moment he lay still, eyes on the window, his ears sharply tuned
for the slightest sound. He knew, of course, that he might have been
awakened by a stray dog, or a night-prowling cat. But he didn't think
so.Very carefully, Biff slipped out of his bed. Bare-footed, he padded
noiselessly toward the window, taking care to remain outside the dim
shaft of early light coming through. He moved to one side of the window
and peered out cautiously.He detected a slight movement beneath a
gnarled apple tree about thirty feet away. Then suddenly, swiftly, a
figure emerged from behind the protection of the tree's drooping limbs. The figure came at a run toward the window.It was a man, small and
slight of build. He was wearing blue jeans and a sweat shirt. On the
shirt's front there was an athletic letter--Biff couldn't make it
out--cut from luminous cloth, making it glow faintly in the dawn's
light.Biff drew back, pressing his body against the wall. A moment later a
white object, the size of a baseball, came hurtling into the room,
tearing a hole in the screen. It fell with a dull plop on Biff's pillow. Biff held his breath, waiting.The man was leaving the yard on the run. At the sidewalk, he slowed to a casual saunter. Apparently he did not
want to risk attracting the attention of some early riser. Biff waited.He counted slowly to a hundred, to make sure his strange
visitor was gone. Once more he looked out the window. Nothing moved in
the eerie light of the dawn. Biff turned away.Had he waited a few
seconds longer, he would have seen two men leave the shadows of a corner
tree and stealthily follow the hurler of the object.Biff snapped on the reading light by his bed and picked up the object
that had been tossed through his window. It was a round white rock, one
of those used to outline his mother's herb garden.More interesting was
the heavy piece of twine tied tightly around it. At the other end of the
twine was a ring. It was a man's heavy ring, set with a square-cut green
stone. Biff examined it carefully. The stone was dull, not glittering.He wasn't sure, but he thought it was jade. He looked at the ring more
closely. On its face there was an intricately etched marking. "A
design?" he wondered. "No, it looks more like Chinese writing." Twisted into a knot around the ring was a small piece of paper. Biff
unfolded it carefully and smoothed it out. "_Fortune shines upon, and the gods protect, the wearer of this ring_,"
he read. "'Protect!'" Biff thought angrily. "Why, that rock could have conked me
but good if I hadn't left my bed." Biff reread the printed message. "Now what, just what," he thought, "has
this got to do with me?" He stretched out on his bed, cupping his hands
behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.Unable to read any sense
into the message, or the mysterious manner in which the ring had come to
him, Biff jumped out of bed and made for the shower.Under the pelting needlelike spray, he threw back his broad shoulders
and let the water sting his face and soak his light-brown hair. Afterward he toweled himself vigorously, dressed quickly, and placed the
ring on his key chain.He knew his father would be up, even though it
was only six-thirty. Maybe his father would have some ideas about this
or, at least, a couple of good guesses. Biff bounded into the kitchen. "Morning, Dad.Say, what do you think happened--" He stopped short as he
saw his mother come out of the pantry. He didn't want to mention the
ring incident in front of her. Not yet, anyway. Not until he had
discussed it with his father.He knew his mother already was worried
enough about his impending trip to far-off Rangoon. Tomorrow was the day
he was leaving. "Good morning, Biff," his father greeted him. "What were you saying? ""Er--I was just saying it so happens I'm hungry enough to eat a
crocodile. Good morning, Mother. What's for breakfast?" "Certainly not crocodile," Mrs. Brewster replied. "Even if you and your
father do say crocodile steaks are delicious. Ugh! "She gave a quick
shudder. Father and son looked at one another and smiled. They had had to eat
crocodile on their Brazilian adventure when their food supplies had run
short. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
"What's on the program this nice bright Saturday morning? "Biff's mother
asked, putting large portions of scrambled eggs and bacon before Biff
and his father. Before a reply could be made, Biff's brother and sister, Ted and Monica,
eleven-year-old twins, burst into the room. "Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! "they shouted together. "Gee, Biff, just think, tomorrow you'll be on your way to Rangoon in
Burma, to visit Uncle Charlie," Ted said enviously. "Wish I could go, too," Monica chimed in. "You! Why, you're a girl," Ted said derisively. "Now, no arguments, you two," Mrs. Brewster said. "Drink your orange
juice. I'll start your eggs." "How far from Indianapolis is it to Rangoon?" Monica asked. "Quite a way. Six or seven thousand miles at least," Mr. Brewster
replied. "You ever been there, Dad?" Ted asked. "No. I envy Biff. Rangoon is one of the places in this world I've missed
so far." "And about the only one, Dad, isn't it?" Biff asked. "There are a few others," his father replied. "Maybe if I had started
out as young as you are, I'd have made them, too. For a
sixteen-year-old, you've been about this world of ours quite a bit, me
boy-o. Well, I'm all for it." "I am too, Dad," Biff agreed. "Remember the time in Brazil, when we--"
"Hold it!" Mrs. Brewster interrupted, laughing. "Don't you two get
started talking about your adventures. There's just this one more day
before Biff leaves, and my goodness, what a lot has to be done! "Biff smiled. He knew there was hardly anything left to be done. His
mother had finished packing for him the day before. Just as Mrs. Brewster brought the twins their eggs, the telephone rang. Monica started to get up. She answered every phone call. "You sit still and eat those eggs while they're hot, young lady. I'll
take the call," Mrs. Brewster said. Biff and his father saw a puzzled look come over her face as she
answered the telephone. "Yes? I understand. This morning?All right, I'll tell them." When she returned to the breakfast table she said, "That was Charlie's
friend, that Chinese merchant, Mr. Ling. Ling Tang, isn't it?" "Why, yes. What did he want?" Tom Brewster asked. "He said it is most urgent that you and Biff see him before Biff leaves
for Rangoon." CHAPTER II
Beware, Biff! "I think we'd better get down to Ling Tang's shop this morning," Mr.
Brewster said. "It must be something important for him to have called so
early. Especially if he knows Biff is leaving for Burma tomorrow." Biff waited until his father had finished his second cup of coffee, and
then rose from the table. "All set, Dad?" he asked. "I'll get the car." Not until they were in the car did Biff bring up the subject of the
ring. "What do you think of this, Dad?" He took his key chain from his pocket,
removed the ring, and placed it in his father's hand.Thomas Brewster looked at the ring carefully. "It's a beautiful ring. Jade. Where did you get it?" "Someone threw it at me this morning," Biff said, a grin on his tanned
face. "Threw it at you? What do you mean? "Biff explained quickly, then handed the note to his father. "Read this." Mr. Brewster read the words: "_Fortune shines upon, and the gods
protect, the wearer of this ring._" He looked back at his son, shaking
his head in puzzlement. "This is all?You haven't any idea who the man was?" "Not the faintest, Dad." "H-m-m." Mr. Brewster studied the ring again. "Jade, and it looks
Chinese. That call from Ling Tang may be connected with this in some
way." "Hey! Maybe you've hit on something! "Biff exclaimed. It was nine o'clock when Biff and his father entered the small Chinese
curio shop of Ling Tang. Ling Tang, a small, neat man in his middle
thirties, greeted them with a deep bow. "You honor my humble establishment by your presence," he said. "Rather it is you who honor us by inviting us here," Mr. Brewster
replied, falling easily into the polite form of greeting used by the
Chinese.Ling Tang's shop was filled with graceful Chinese urns and vases,
beautifully decorated with green and red dragons, flowers, and
tree-filled valleys. Chinese fans hung from wires stretched from wall to
wall.In glass-covered cases were carved idols of jade and delicate
pieces of ivory. A heavy aroma of incense filled the small store. Ling Tang had attended Butler University in Indianapolis with Charles
Keene, the uncle Biff was going to visit.They had become close friends,
and this had led to a friendship with the entire Brewster family. On
graduating, Ling Tang had returned to China.After several years, when
the political atmosphere of Red China had put a stern, cruel check on
freedom of movement and freedom of speech, Ling Tang had fled his
beloved country and returned to America. He had opened his shop and
thrived. "We received your message, Tang," Mr. Brewster said. Ling Tang placed the tips of his long, well-cared-for fingers together. "It is true that your son goes to Burma soon?" "Yes. Tomorrow." Tang's face remained expressionless. "Perhaps what I have to tell you is
of no importance. I do not wish to alarm you." He paused. "This trip was
arranged several months ago?" Biff and his father nodded their heads. "And there has been no attempt to keep it secret? ""There was no need to," Thomas Brewster stated. "I wonder. Was the boy's trip not arranged when my good friend Charles
Keene visited here last?" "Yes. But I don't see--" Biff began. "Your Uncle Charles had just returned from Cape Canaveral, had he not?" Biff nodded his head. Uncle Charlie had been in the Navy for several
years.He was a pilot in the squadron of planes assigned to tracking
missiles fired from the Cape into the South Atlantic. It was the
squadron's task to recover the instrument-loaded nose cones dropped from
the powerful rockets.Uncle Charlie had bounced around the world quite a bit. He had flown a
fighter plane during the Korean conflict and had traveled as much as he
could about the Orient on his furlough time.He remained in the Navy
following Korea, and was delighted when he was assigned to Canaveral. But after two years there, his traveling feet told him, "I want out. "So
he had resigned his commission to join an old pilot friend establishing
a fleet of planes for Explorations Unlimited, in Burma. Charles Keene
wanted badly to get back to the Orient.He was fascinated by the eastern
countries so different from his own. "I'm interested in the money, too," he told the Brewster family on his
visit. "There're plenty of American businesses building up in the
Orient.Flying for this outfit in Burma is real opportunity and big
money. I want some of both before I'm too old." Explorations Unlimited had its headquarters at Unhao, on the Irrawaddy
River, northeast of Rangoon near the Chinese border. "Why don't you ship Biff out to me for a few weeks?" Uncle Charlie had
suggested. "He could get a glimpse of the other side of the world--learn
a lot, too." | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Those words had been music to Biff's young ears.A family council had
been held, and it had been agreed that the trip would be a good way for
Biff to spend the remainder of his summer vacation. "About a month after your uncle's visit," Tang continued, "two men,
countrymen of mine, traveling on Burmese passports, arrived here. They
asked many questions about your uncle. ""I still don't see what that has to do with Biff's going to Rangoon,"
Mr. Brewster said. "I try your patience," Tang said. "Now to my point. Only last night
these same two men came again to our city.This time, _they were most
curious about your son, Biff_." CHAPTER III
Under Chinese Eyes
"You said two men," Biff repeated. "I'll just bet you that one of them
was the joker who paid me a visit this morning! ""You had a visitor? Early this morning?" Ling Tang asked. "I'll say I did. Not a visitor, though. A spy, maybe--sneaking around
the yard and--"
"Hold it, Biff," his father interrupted. "Why don't you show Mr. Ling
what the intruder brought you? ""Brought me," Biff muttered to himself as he opened the safety catch of
his key chain. "Some way to bring anything to someone! "He removed the
ring from a tangle of keys--to his foot-locker, his suitcase, a "secret"
box, and to several things he had long since forgotten about. Taking the
ring by the thick circle of gold, he held it out to the Chinese
gentleman.Ling took the ring in his thin hands. He looked at it carefully. "A beautiful piece of jade," he murmured. Bringing the ring closer to
his eyes, he took a loupe--a jeweler's magnifying glass--from his pocket
to inspect the ring more minutely.While he did this, Biff filled him in
on how the ring had been "delivered." "Exquisitely carved," Tang said, removing the loupe from his eye. "What's carved on it?" Biff asked. "It's the Chinese character which, roughly, would stand for the capital
letter 'K.'" "Does that have any significance for you, Tang?" Mr. Brewster asked. "Indeed it does. This is the ring of the great House of Kwang.Before
the Communists took over, it was one of the richest and strongest houses
in all China. This ring was worn by the Great Lord of the house, and by
his sons, the young lords." "It's funny I should get one of them," Biff said, laughing. "I'm no
young lord." Ling Tang smiled. "Most mysterious, true," he agreed. "And if they wanted to give me a ring, why didn't they just send it to
me, instead of throwing it through my window and ruining the screen? ""You did receive it in a most dramatic fashion." "You can bet all the tea in China I did," Biff said. "Perhaps, young man," Ling said, "you received it as you did, so that he
who presented it to you could keep his identity a secret.Even more
important"--Ling paused to drive home his point--"he did it to keep you
from seeing what he looked like." Biff and his father exchanged concerned glances. "Were you acquainted with the House of Kwang? Did you know its master?"Mr. Brewster asked. "It is an old, old family, once strong, once rich." An expression of
sadness passed fleetingly across Tang's face. "Until the Reds moved in
and made ruthless changes, the House of Kwang lived in the same age-old
feudal manner as had the founder of the family generations ago. They had
rich farm lands and houses of many courts.In the Old Lord's house, he
who was called the Ancient One, there were more than a hundred courts. In America you would call them apartments or suites. Each court had its
sleeping room. A room for eating.And a room, beautifully decorated with
a small fish pond in its center, where the lords of the house would go
to think and meditate and honor the memories of their fathers and their
fathers' fathers." "And this no longer exists?"Mr. Brewster asked his friend. "Gone. All gone. The farm lands divided up into small communes; the
mines, the grain-storage house snatched away. But the family still
clings together. They still resist.Many of them are in hiding from
local Red officials. The earthly possessions of the House of Kwang have
been torn from them. But the family is still a proud one. They aid one
another, even to helping the older members escape into the free world. "Thomas Brewster had been doing some heavy thinking. "Tang," he said. "Tell me this. In what part of China was the House of Kwang located?" "In the province of Yunnan, south and somewhat west of Kunming, the
capital of the province."Mr. Brewster was creating the map of China in his mind's eye. "That
would be near the border of Burma." Ling Tang nodded his head gravely. "Not far from Unhao, on the Irrawaddy River?" Biff's father inquired. "Your memory of China is excellent, my friend. Once the Old Lord, Tao
Kwang, made annual pilgrimages to Rangoon to visit the shrine of the
Gautama Buddha, the magnificent pagoda of Shwe Dagon." Biff was beginning to put the pieces together. "I still don't get it
loud and clear, but Uncle Charlie's located at Unhao. That's where I'm
going. And Uncle Charlie's in Rangoon a lot, isn't he?" "Yes, Biff. He is." "But the ring--why would someone want me to have it?Do you suppose they
want me to take it with me?" "That, my boy, is the question we'd all like to have the answer to," Mr.
Brewster replied. "Gosh. Maybe I shouldn't take the ring with me." Tang spoke up quickly. "Oh, but I think you should.Its manner of
delivery hints of peril. But its message speaks of fortune and safety." Biff took the ring back. As he did so, a young, smiling Chinese entered
the store hurriedly. "So sorry, revered elder cousin, so sorry to be late.I change quickly
and take over my duties." Tang smiled as the young Chinese hurried to the rear of the store. Biff
had noticed the young man was wearing jeans and a sweat shirt. On the
front of the shirt was the letter "K! "Biff turned and looked sharply
after him. "Who was that, sir?" Biff inquired of Ling Tang. "My young cousin--one of them," Tang said. "He works afternoons for the
Kirby Ice Cream Co. He is much enthused about your game of soft ball.He
is of the team called the Kirby Koolers." "Well, thanks for your information, Tang. Guess we'd better be going,"
Mr. Brewster said. "I'll say hello to Uncle Charlie for you, Mr. Ling," Biff said. "That will be most kind of you," the Chinese replied. Both bowed to Ling Tang, and he returned their gesture with a deep bow
of his own. Biff and his father were thoughtful as they walked to their parked car. Something was building.No doubt about that. But what? What was the
answer to, or the connection between, the spying stranger, the ring, and
Biff's coming visit to his Uncle Charlie? The answers to those questions
were not to be found that day.At home, Mrs. Brewster's first question was, "Biff, who ruined the
screen in your room?" Biff looked helplessly at his father, who merely shrugged his shoulders. "A rock, Mother. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
This morning, early.Fooling around...."
"I thought, young man, you were old enough to know better than to toss
rocks around carelessly." Biff heaved a sigh of relief. He was going to get out of this easily.Neither he nor his father wanted to tell Mrs. Brewster the real reason
for the hole in the screen. They didn't want to worry her. "Now," Mrs. Brewster said briskly, "we've lots to do today. We'll have
no time in the morning.We'll have to leave for the airport early. Now
here's what I want you to do, Biff...."
On the morning of his departure, Biff again woke early. He could hear
noises throughout the house and sniffed at the friendly smells of
breakfast being prepared.Everybody was up. They were all going with him
to the airport. Biff looked at his watch. It was nearly seven by the
time he was dressed.In one hour and fifteen minutes he would be
air-borne, on his way to Chicago, the first leg in a journey that would
take him halfway around the world. Breakfast was a funny kind of a meal that morning--not the food, but the
way the whole family acted.The twins, of course, kept up a steady,
excited chatter. Any trip to the airport made them bubble like a bottle
of pop. But Biff and his mother and father either all tried to talk at
the same time, or suddenly remained silent at the same time. "Biff gets all the breaks," Ted complained. "Don't see why I can't go,
too." "Because you're too young, that's why," retorted his twin sister,
Monica. "You're just eleven." "You are, too," the younger boy shot back. "Way you act, anybody'd think
you were older'n me." "Your time will come, Ted," Mr. Brewster said, acting as a peacemaker
between his youngest children. "When you're five years older, like Biff,
the world will still be here.There'll be plenty of chances for you to
spread your wings and fly." "Right," said Ted emphatically. "And I'll go by rocket." "But what about me? I'm a girl," Monica wailed. "Yes, Tom. Answer that one," Martha Brewster said with a laugh. "Don't
worry, Monica," she continued, "we women will show these men a thing or
two." "Like what?" the girl said, pouting. "Like how fast you can get ready. Right now. We have to leave for the
airport. "As they drove into the busy terminal, Biff felt a lump in the pit of his
stomach. First signs of homesickness, he thought. It had happened
before. Biff always felt homesick at these last moments. But once he was
under way, the feeling left him.Except sometimes late at night, just
before he fell asleep. This time, though, it was different. This was the first time Biff was
going to be all on his own. Before, his adventures had been shared with
his father.True, he'd be with his Uncle Charlie, but as nice a guy as
Uncle Charlie was, uncles weren't the same as fathers. Biff checked in and had his ticket cleared. At the gate, he ruffled his
brother's hair, gave him a quick hug, and turned to Monica.He lifted
her off her feet and planted a big "smack" on her plump cheek. Unashamedly, he embraced his mother in front of the crowded gate, then
turned to his father. The two shook hands, and Mr. Brewster placed a hand on Biff's shoulder. "You have the ring in a safe place?" he asked softly. Biff nodded his head and touched his side trouser pocket. He had
fastened the key chain to a longer, stronger chain which was attached to
his belt loop. "I wouldn't display it, Biff." Biff nodded.He felt tears coming to his eyes, but he was through the
gate and up the plane's loading platform before anyone could see them. Moments later, the plane was taxiing out to the runway for the take-off.Biff, looking through the window, could see his family waving. After the plane's four engines had been warmed up and tested, the giant
airliner lurched forward, and in seconds was air-borne. First stop
Chicago. Change to a jetliner for San Francisco.Next stop Hawaii. Then
Tokyo, Hong Kong, and finally Rangoon. Biff unfastened his seat belt when the lighted sign snapped off, and
looked about him. The plane was only half filled. He glanced to the
rear, and his heart started pounding.Seated in the last seat on the
plane's starboard side were two Chinese. They returned Biff's stare
without expression. One of them, Biff noticed, seemed to have but one
good eye. The other eye was nothing but a thin slit.CHAPTER IV
A Fortune Cooky
Biff's connections at Chicago with the jetliner for San Francisco went
without a hitch. In less than an hour the sleek, silvery plane was in
the air, circling over the bustling city of Chicago.It pointed its
slender nose westward, and began a race with the sun to the Pacific
Ocean. The liner seemed to hang motionless over the broad plains of the West.Even the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains passed backward beneath
the plane slowly, as if the plane were barely moving, instead of slicing
through the air at nearly 700 miles per hour.Once they were in the air, Biff, as casually as he could, had let his
eyes sweep the length of the plane, trying to see if the two Chinese
were still with him. There were no Orientals on this flight.By early afternoon the plane had left the mountains behind it and was
starting its long glide to lose altitude as it neared San Francisco.Far
ahead, Biff could see the blue waters of the Pacific, sparkling under
the rays of the sun, now standing high in the sky. Before he realized
it, the plane was circling over San Francisco Bay.Biff saw the
beautiful Golden Gate Bridge, arching gracefully over the harbor.After a two-hour layover, during which time Biff's papers and baggage
were cleared by customs, the boy boarded the plane which was to take him
to his final destination, Burma.The sun had a good lead on the plane by the time the huge airliner took
off. It would soon disappear over the horizon, and darkness would greet
the touch-down in Honolulu.Once the plane was over the water, Biff turned in his seat for a final
glance at his homeland. He could just see the hills of San Francisco,
fading rapidly behind him. As he turned more toward the front, his eye
was caught by two Chinese passengers.Biff looked at them closely. They were dressed in long, flowing robes. The robes were brightly colored in greens and reds and were
gold-trimmed. Their wearers had tight skull caps worn low on their
foreheads, and each wore heavy, dark sun glasses.Could they be the same
two who had been on the plane with him from Indianapolis to Chicago? For
a closer look, Biff walked to the rear of the plane for a drink of
water. He stood just in back of the pair and inspected the men closely.They could be the same men, he decided. But he couldn't be sure. It was
difficult for him to tell one Chinese from another.And the change, if
these were the same two, from American clothes to Oriental, made such a
difference that it was impossible for Biff to be certain. Biff decided on a bold move.He stopped at the seat where the two
Orientals sat impassively, staring straight ahead. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
"I'm going to Rangoon," he said, a friendly smile breaking out on his
face. "To a place very near the Chinese border. Are you going to
Rangoon, or Hong Kong? "There was no answer. "Don't you speak English?" Biff asked. "I'm afraid they don't," a voice said behind him. Biff whirled. It was the stewardess. "Can I help you?" she asked. "No," Biff said lamely. "I was just--er--just going to get a glass of
water." The stewardess moved on. Biff downed the glass of water which he didn't
need and started back to his seat. As he came to the side where the
Chinese were sitting, he decided to try a little trick.He bent toward the floor of the plane. "Is that your glasses case on the floor?" he asked. The Chinese in the outside seat bent forward. His hand reached down,
feeling by his feet.Then, quickly realizing he had given himself away,
he sat up straight, and stared ahead. A big smile of satisfaction decorated Biff's face as he settled himself
in his seat. He knew one thing about them at least. They understood
English--but good!And they could have taken another airline from
Chicago to San Francisco. Biff's swift flight was without further incident as the plane sped
across the Pacific. Then he was on the last leg--the flight from Hong
Kong to Rangoon.It was the middle of the afternoon, an hour after the take-off from Hong
Kong. Rangoon was still nearly three hours away. The stewardesses were
serving tea.With it they served almond cookies and, as a favor from the
air lines, each passenger received a fortune cooky, a small delicate
piece of folded, crisply cooked dough.Inside each fortune cooky was a
narrow ribbon of paper on which was printed a short saying--usually
humorous. Biff remembered them from the Chinese restaurant he went to
with the family every so often back in Indianapolis.He smiled as he remembered one he had once gotten. It had read: "Man who
count chickens before they hatch is egghead." Biff finished his tea. He reached for the fortune cooky.Just as he did
so, someone lurched against his shoulder, upsetting the tray. Cup,
saucer, and fortune cooky fell to the floor. Both Biff and the awkward
passenger reached to pick up the scrambled tray.Biff's eyes met his
helper's--it was one of the two Chinese! There was no reason for him to
have stumbled. The plane was flying smoothly. It appeared to Biff that
the shoulder bumping had been intentional. "So sorry," the Chinese said.His dark glasses glinted as he
straightened up. "Too bad. Fortune cooky smashed to bits. But slip of
paper still okay." Smiling briefly, he handed Biff the slender slip of tissue paper, and
made his way hurriedly forward.Biff watched him go, still puzzled by the man's action. The boy smoothed
out the slip. It had only a Chinese character scrawled on it. Through
the Chinese printing had been drawn a red "X." "Now what the dickens is
this?" Biff thought.He started to crumple the paper, but something
about it held his attention. There was something familiar about it. Then
he had it. Carefully, he took out his key chain.He bent low, and
compared the character on the cooky slip with that on the surface of the
ring's green stone. They were identical--the letter "K!" --the seal of
the lords of the House of Kwang. Was this a warning of some kind?Did the red "X" cancel out the
protection and good fortune the ring was supposed to insure? But why? Why? Biff's brain kept signaling that one word with its question mark.The plane climbed over the coastal mountains of Viet Nam, dropped down
to skim over the rice fields of Thailand, then swung out over the Bay of
Bengal for its approach to Rangoon.As the plane banked, Biff could see the many mouths of the Irrawaddy
River, spread out like long fingers from the broad, brown arm of the
river itself.The plane came low over the bay on its approach to the city, and Biff
could see the colorful sails of the _dhows_, the native craft which
dotted the harbor. Some of the sails were bright red, some dirty brown.Many wore patches of every color of the rainbow. The plane followed the course of the Hlaing River, twenty-one miles
inland to the city of Rangoon.Standing out against the low, white
buildings, Biff saw the pagoda of Shwe Dagon, rising nearly 400 feet
skyward. It was entirely covered with gold leaf which glistened in the
setting sun. Then he remembered.Ling Tang had told him this was the
important shrine of Buddha where the head of the House of Kwang used to
worship. Biff stretched and twisted. In spite of the cooky accident and the red
"X," he smiled. "Almost there, at last," he said to the passing
stewardess. The long trip had been pleasant enough, but being confined to a plane
for three days and three nights had become monotonous.Just as soon as
he could, Biff bounded down the ramp from the airliner and ran eagerly
to the entrance of the airport terminal. Through the portal into the terminal, Biff was caught up in a swirling
mass of figures.Fat merchants, skinny students, long-robed mandarins,
ragged beggars, and men in the uniforms of all the world's military
forces milled about the huge room. Biff searched the crowds, trying to
spot his Uncle Charlie. He was nowhere to be seen.Worried minutes followed. Then Biff saw a tall, very thin Oriental,
wearing a long, straight white robe approach. The man came up to Biff. With hands clasped to his chest, he bowed low. "Sahib Brewster?" he asked. "I'm Biff Brewster," the boy answered, thinking, "Gee, I'm a sahib!" "I come from Sahib Charles Keene. He had planned to meet you. However,
an emergency arose, and he had to fly to the north. But he should be
back at Unhao by the time we get there.""Oh." Biff was slightly shaken by this unexpected turn of events. "And
how do we get there, then?" "It is all arranged. Another pilot was dispatched to pick you up when
your uncle was unable to come himself. Come.If you will follow me, even
now the plane is ready." The Oriental turned, and a path in the human
mass seemed to open for him. Biff followed, still not sure of this man. "Hey," he called. "Wait a minute!" The Oriental paused and turned to the boy. "I'd like to know your name," Biff said. "I don't like calling people
just 'hey.'" The Oriental's puzzled expression changed to a slight smile as
understanding of Biff's "hey" came to him. "I am called Nam Palung, head
of the servants in your uncle's house." "Okay, Nam. But what about getting through customs?" "That is all arranged. Your uncle is a man of much importance and
influence. Come.We must hurry before darkness spreads its mantle upon
the land." Biff didn't like being rushed like this. "Yeah, but what about my
luggage--my suitcase and trunk?" "Even now they precede us to the plane. All is cared for. "The whole business seemed a bit cockeyed to Biff, but then, shrugging
his shoulders, he followed Nam to the northern exit of the terminal. Nam walked quickly, his fast, short steps limited by the skirt of his
robe.Even so, Biff had to step up his pace to stay with the man. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Suspicion again came to Biff as they left the terminal building and
appeared to be taking a direction away from the airport. "Look, Nam. Just where are we going?The airstrips are back that way." "Those, Sahib Brewster," Nam replied, "are for the commercial airlines
planes. Private planes, such as those used by Explorations Unlimited,
use a different part of the field." Biff's suspicions dropped a degree.Nam's explanation made sense. His
suspicions dropped still further when Nam reached a jeep, and with a low
bow, indicated that Biff was to get in. An American jeep, Biff thought. They're found everywhere.The small
vehicle represented home and safety to Biff. He hopped aboard, and Nam
took his place behind the wheel. Biff looked across the airport where a
mile away, several small planes were clustered. He figured that was
where they were heading.He heard a rustling behind him and turned
abruptly. In the jeep's rear seat now sat, as if they had appeared out
of thin air, two more Orientals. Both were dressed like Nam.But, as
Biff looked at them more closely, he noticed that each man's hand was
partly thrust into a fold of his robe, and each hand clasped the hilt of
a slender dagger. Biff turned to Nam, alarmed. "Who are those men--with knives--" His voice shook in spite of his
attempt to control it. Nam interrupted. His manner was no longer courteous, his voice no longer
smooth. His reply was stem and harsh. "You will remain silent.Any outcry, any attempt to escape, and my men
have been told to use those knives." CHAPTER V
Jack Hudson
Nam Palung meant business. There was no question about that.But Biff
had no intention of yielding without a struggle. He would make his
escape if at all possible. Right now, though, as his mind whirled trying
to think his way out of this predicament, it would be best to do exactly
as he had been told.Biff promised himself one thing. Once he was free of Nam Palung he, Biff
Brewster, was going to give himself, Biff Brewster, one swift kick. He
had been played for a sucker, a trusting, easy-to-take American, and he
had filled the role perfectly.How, he now thought, could he have been
so taken in? The jeep rolled across the field. Biff shot a sidelong glance at Nam
Palung. The jeep moved at a steady pace, not fast enough to attract
attention.It was headed toward a gate in the high wire fence
surrounding the airfield through which service trucks passed. He noticed
that the gate was blocked by an iron bar, raised to allow a vehicle to
pass underneath it.When raised, the bar on its upright poles looked
like a football goal post.As the jeep drew near and fell in line behind a truck and a small car,
Biff noticed the bar was raised just sufficiently to allow about a
foot's clearance for the vehicle passing beneath. An idea came into
Biff's head.He turned to look over his shoulder at his knife-bearing
guards. "Keep your head straight forward," Nam ordered. "And no tricks as we
pass the gateman." Biff watched the truck ahead pass through.It slowed down without
stopping as it passed under the raised bar. The bar was lowered to stop
position after the truck's tail-gate went through. Next came the smaller
car, its roof much lower than the truck's.Again the bar was raised, but
this time, just high enough to accommodate the car, leaving about two
feet between it and the car's top. Now the jeep approached the bar barricade. The bar began rising slowly. Biff watched it, his heart in his mouth. "Don't let them raise it too
high," he prayed. Biff leaned slightly forward, placing his weight on
his firmly planted feet. He tensed his leg and thigh muscles until they
felt like tightly coiled steel springs.The bar was about three feet higher than tall Nam's head. Biff waited
until the front of the jeep was directly under the bar. Then he leaped
up as if he'd been blasted off a launching pad. His hands seized the
bar.Like a trapeze artist, he swung his body forward in a giant arc. At
the top of his swing, when his body was parallel to the ground, Biff
twisted his head, looking over his shoulder as his body started a swift
downward stroke.At the split second, he lashed out with his feet. One
foot struck the left knife-wielder square on the side of his head. The
man shot over the side of the jeep as if jerked by the hand of a giant.Biff's other foot struck the second knife-wielder full in his chest,
toppling him out the back of the jeep. Now Biff was propelling himself into the backward arc of his swing. Again his body came swiftly downward.He lashed at Nam, planting both
his feet solidly in the Oriental's shoulders. Nam shot forward, his head
striking the windshield. Biff swung his body sideways, and dropped to the ground.He ran back
toward the terminal building, nearly half a mile away. After a hundred
yards, he slowed to catch his breath. Turning, he looked back at the
jeep. There was no need to run. Nam still lay sprawled over the steering
wheel.One of the knife-bearers was out of sight, apparently still
sprawled on the ground on the other side of the jeep. The other guard
was just rising from behind the jeep. Biff saw him stagger, still not
fully recovered. There would be no more trouble with those three, Biff said to himself. Not right away, at any rate. The boy continued toward the terminal
building at a rapid walk.He didn't run, no need to, and if he did, he
might attract attention. He might be stopped. Explanations would be
demanded. The gate-keeper might come up and describe what had happened. Biff needed time to think. What was his next move? "Guess I'll have to play it by ear," he told himself, and what, he
wondered, had happened to Uncle Charlie? Had he been waylaid by those
same three? Inside the teeming terminal building, Biff mingled with the constantly
moving crowds.He hoped he wouldn't be noticeable, but there was little
chance of that. In his American clothes, gray slacks and open-necked
shirt, he was as noticeable as an Oriental dressed in mandarin clothes
would have been at the Indianapolis airport.There was only one thing to do, Biff decided. Go to the airline check-in
counter and see if any message had been left him by his uncle. The boy
approached the counter cautiously. He wanted to look around before
identifying himself.Biff sidled up to the counter. A tall, handsome man, about thirty years
old, was leaning over the counter, questioning the clerk intensely. He
was wearing white drill trousers and a white shirt open at the collar.A
well-shaped, close-cropped head topped a strong neck and broad
shoulders. He spoke to the clerk in a voice filled with authority.Unless he was badly fooled again, Biff felt sure that this man was an
American, and there was something about him that the boy liked
immediately. "Hold it," Biff told himself. "Let's not jump too fast this time. "Standing behind the man, Biff saw him take out a worn wallet from his
hip pocket. "Now you listen to me. I'm Jack Hudson. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
I'm a pilot for Explorations
Unlimited. Here, take a look at my papers.I'm here to meet a boy named
Biff Brewster, and I want to know where he is. Right now!" The clerk leaned on the counter. He carefully inspected the list of
names on the paper in front of him. "So sorry. No name like one you say on this list. ""Is that your passenger manifest list?" the man, Jack Hudson, demanded. The clerk nodded his head. Without asking, without waiting, Hudson snatched the list from the man's
hand. "Here. You can't do that!" Hudson ignored the clerk.His eye ran down the list quickly. "And just what do you think this name is?" Hudson held his index finger
beside one of the names. "Oh, so sorry. I guess I no understand your talk." "Fat chance," Hudson said angrily. "Now you just tell me where that boy
is." Biff had made up his mind. He couldn't be mistaken in this man of
action. "I think you're looking for me, sir," Biff said and placed his hand on
Jack Hudson's arm. Hudson swung around.He looked Biff up and down, slowly, carefully,
sizing him up, before answering. "If I weren't so glad to see you, I'd ask where the devil you've been." Then, seeing Biff's face fall, Hudson smiled, a warm, immediately
friendly smile. "But the important thing is I've found you." "I guess it is mostly my fault that you've had trouble meeting me," Biff
confessed. "I had a little mixup with--" He cut his sentence short.Perhaps he had better wait until he got to know Jack Hudson better
before revealing all the mysterious happenings that had taken place from
that early hour in the morning four days ago, back in Indianapolis. "Well, part of it's my fault, too," Jack said. "Or the weather's. Coming
in from Unhao, I ran into a terrific headwind. Should have allowed for
it. These winds spring up all the time in these parts. I was late.But
come on now, we've got to clear you with customs and get your gear." Jack Hudson, with a forcefulness sharp enough to cut any red tape,
literally bulldozed Biff through a maze of inspections, checks, and
rechecks. "I'm slipping," he grinned at Biff when the boy had been cleared. "Took
me thirty-one minutes. My record's twenty-nine. Come on. We've got to
make with the plane back to Unhao. Fast. Lots to be done." "That sure suits me. I'm anxious to see my uncle. ""Hope he's there when we get back." A frown creased Jack's face as he
spoke. "He will be, won't he? That's what I was told, that the emergency came
up quickly and--" Biff ended his sentence feeling foolish.He suddenly
remembered who had told him the story. "Emergency? I don't know of any emergency. Your uncle wasn't even in
Unhao today. It was arranged for me to pick you up before he left." "Before he left? What do you mean?" Biff was getting puzzled. "Your uncle flew out of Unhao over a week ago." CHAPTER VI
Interrupted Message
Darkness had spread over the airfield by the time Biff and Jack Hudson
reached the "Explorations" plane.It was a twin-engine Cessna, a
five-passenger, capable of a speed of 250 miles per hour. "Hop in, Biff," Jack said. "Be my co-pilot." Jack stowed Biff's gear, and took his place in the pilot's seat.As
quick to action as Hudson was, he was also a sober, careful pilot. He
warmed up the plane's motors. He tested the wing flaps. He made a
thorough instrument check. Then he called the tower for take-off
instructions.The plane moved to its assigned runway. Once more Jack revved up his
engines. Then, the brakes released, the plane started rolling down the
runway.Once it was air-borne, Jack put the plane in a steep climb, made
a wide circle over the city of Rangoon, then headed north, following the
Irrawaddy River. "How long before we get there?" Biff asked. "About four hours. If we don't hit any weather.Unhao's about fifty
miles north of Myitkyina. 'Bout eleven hundred miles from here." "How big's Unhao. Is it much of a place?" Biff asked. Jack grinned. "Take a look back at Rangoon. That's the last civilization
you're going to see for a while. "The plane sped through the night. As the moon rose out of the South
China Sea, its light turned the Irrawaddy River, thousands of feet
below, into a slender silvery ribbon, reflecting the moon's rays like a
long sliver of mirror.Jack Hudson put the plane on automatic pilot. He reached behind him and
brought out two boxes. He handed one to Biff. "Hungry?" Biff hadn't thought about eating. But now, he realized he was ravenous. "I'll say I am. Thanks a lot. "He practically tore open the box and
chomped on the sandwiches with an appetite that made Jack wonder when
the boy had last eaten. Just before midnight, Hudson switched on the plane's radio transmitter
and called the landing strip at Unhao. "Keep your eyes dead ahead for the next few minutes," he told Biff. "I
always get a thrill out of it." Biff did as he was told. He peered intently through the windshield into
the night. Clouds had obscured the moon, and all was darkness.Not a
light could be seen anywhere. Suddenly, as if by magic, the letter "X" blazed out of the jungle,
twenty miles ahead. It was so startling that Biff gasped in amazement. "Our landing field.I told them we'd be in in about ten minutes and to
turn on the lights. We have two runways. One from southwest to
northeast. The other from southeast to northwest. They bisect in the
center, forming a perfect 'X.' I think it's a wonderful sight. ""It sure is," Biff replied. For the next few minutes, Jack's entire attention was devoted to the
landing. The plane swooped out of the dark, flashed over the landing
field, circled and entered its final glide path.Biff felt the lurch
which told him they had touched down. Jack taxied the plane toward the
hangars. "Well, here we are," he said to Biff. "Welcome to Unhao. "Despite the excitement of landing in this strange isolated spot in Upper
Burma, Biff couldn't hold back a yawn. He was just plain, dog-tired. It
had been four nights since he had slept in a bed. Oh, he had slept.But
sleeping in a sitting position, he told himself, would never replace the
good, old stretch-out type of snooze. Native servants swarmed around the plane. Biff and his gear were
deposited in a jeep standing by. Jack hopped behind the wheel.The jeep,
with natives clinging to every possible foot and hand-hold, headed
through the night toward Headquarters House, a quarter of a mile away.Headquarters House was a combination office, communications center, and
living quarters for the staff of Explorations Unlimited. Sleeping rooms,
resembling those of Bachelor Officers' Quarters on an army post, filled
one ell of the building.Into one of these went Biff. Moments after his
head hit the pillow, he was in a deep sleep, in spite of the murky heat
that was unrelieved by the lateness of the night.Around five o'clock in the morning, as dawn was transforming the
night-blackened jungle into a greenish maze, Biff was awakened by the
sound of running feet passing his door. These were followed by others. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
The whole building seemed to spring to life.Something was up. Biff jumped out of bed. First he went to the window. Looking out, he saw
a tremendous animal faintly outlined in the morning mists not more than
thirty feet away.Just as he was about to call out, he saw the floppy
ears and the swaying trunk of the animal raise toward the sky, and let
go with a trumpeting that rattled the windows. Biff had to smile at
himself.What was an elephant doing wandering around loose at that time
of the morning? "Some difference from home," he thought. Biff dressed quickly. He hurried down the hallway toward the center of
Headquarters House.Sounds of activity came from the communications
center. He paused in the doorway. Jack Hudson and two other men were
bunched together around a short-wave receiver. Static crackled
throughout the room. One of the men picked up a hand microphone. "This is H H One, calling. This is Happy Harry One calling X 0369. Come
in X 0369. Repeat: Come in X 0369. We were beginning to read you. Acknowledge. Do you read us?" His answer was a roar of static. Jack Hudson shook his head.His concern and the intense looks on the
faces of the other men told Biff they were troubled. "Was it Keene, Mike?" Jack demanded. "Was it Charlie?" Biff heard Jack's question, and he felt a sudden pang of fear.The radio operator, Mike Dawson, shook his head. "I can't say for sure. I think it must have been. But the voice was so faint. And the static--"
"Could you make out anything? Any of the words?" Jack's voice was
insistent.Mike shook his head worriedly. "The sender didn't identify. I did think
I caught some of the words, but I can't say for sure--"
"Well, what were they, man? What were they? ""I--I thought he said, 'They're coming for me.... My position is lati--'
And right then transmission broke off completely. That's when I buzzed
your rooms. I've been working this mike ever since. And getting nothing. But nothing. "Biff stepped into the room. He crossed to the three men. "Was that my uncle you were talking about?" Mike and the other man looked at Jack Hudson. It was obvious that they
wouldn't speak unless he gave them the go-ahead. Jack looked at Biff.He
didn't reply at once. Then, having reached his decision, he answered. "Yes, Biff. I'm afraid it was." "_Afraid?_" Biff felt a tingle of fear race up his spine. "What do you
mean? Is my uncle in danger?" Jack Hudson's shoulders sagged.He shook his head as if trying to rid
himself of unpleasant thoughts. "Come along, Biff. I'll tell you about
it over some coffee." At the door, he turned back. "Keep trying, Mike. You might raise him. And if you do--"
"I'll buzz you fast. "In the mess hall, the servants had already set the breakfast table. Two
of them padded about the room silently on their bare feet. Biff sat down
to a plate containing an oval-shaped, reddish fruit, streaked with
white. "It's the fruit of the durian tree. Try it. We think it's delicious. If
you don't like it, though, there's fresh pineapple or guava." The taste was like nothing Biff had ever eaten before. He didn't know
whether he liked it or not. And he didn't care.There were more
important things than breakfast fruit right now. "Tell me about Uncle Charlie." Jack sipped some coffee. "I'll tell you what I can, Biff. It won't be
much. I don't know it all myself. I know where he went, and I think I
know why.The why is what I can't tell you." "Was there danger in this trip of Uncle Charlie's?" "Danger? Perhaps. Always dangerous crossing the border. But Charlie
should have been able to handle it." Biff felt his heart pound. "Your uncle left here exactly eight days ago. He left early in the
morning. He needed the cover of night to fly across the border." "The border? What border?" Biff asked. "The border into Red China.That border's closed, you know, especially
to Americans." Jack paused to light a cigarette. "He took off in a light, four-place plane. It's the type plane that
Charlie could land or take off in on a dime. It carried extra fuel
tanks. ""How long did he expect to be gone?" "He didn't know for certain. Not more than four or five days, he said." Four or five days, Biff thought. And eight days had passed. "We've been expecting him, Watching for him.I've flown from dawn to
daylight myself the last three days, hoping to spot him or his plane, if
he was forced down. Nothing. He didn't break radio silence once from the
time he left." "Until this morning," Biff cut in. "Yes. Until this morning.If that was Charlie." "Have you any idea where he was going in China?" Jack shook his head. "Not exactly. With the extra tanks, he had fuel for about twelve hundred
miles.So, since he had to return, he must have expected to find what he
was looking for not more than five hundred miles inside China." "And you can't tell me your ideas of what his search was for?" Jack hesitated. "All I could tell you would be the results of my own
speculations. Your uncle was at Cape Canaveral, as you know, and he must
know a lot about guided missiles. He was one of the Navy's top young
officers. Well--put your thinking cap on.Maybe between us we can come
up with something." Biff thought hard. There were many parts to this puzzle. He thought he
himself was probably one of them.But fitting them together into an
answer--that would take more than minutes, hours, or even days to do. Too many important parts of the puzzle were still missing. Biff thought
that perhaps now he should fill Jack in on his own small mystery.His
hand went to his key chain and touched the jade ring. He made a
decision. He wouldn't mention the ring. He would only tell Jack about
what had happened when he arrived at the Rangoon airport. Quickly he told Jack the story.As he poured it out rapidly, Jack's look
of worried concern deepened. "There must be some connection. Charlie disappears, and you're almost
kidnaped. Describe the man again." Biff sketched the three men in as best he could. "I only saw the one
called Nam Pulang closely. He said he was the Number One man here at
Explorations." "Never heard of him. Was he Chinese, or Burmese?" "I'd say Chinese," Biff answered. "Although I don't really know how
Burmese look. "Jack was thoughtful. "But Jack," Biff said, "we're not just going to sit here, are we? Can't
we do something? Can't we go into China and find Uncle Charlie?" "Go into China? Impossible. You get any such idea out of your head. "That idea, though, was very much in Biff's head. The idea had been
growing from the moment he first heard of his uncle's disappearance. "I mean that," Jack said. "You have no idea of the difficulty in
crossing the border. It's patroled night and day.And the border guards
shoot to kill." Man and boy sat in silence, both deep in thought. The silence was
suddenly broken. A native boy about Biff's age, but smaller, came
running into the room. "Sahib Jack! Come on run! Come on run! Quick! Quick! "He ran out of the
room. Biff and Jack were at his heels. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
CHAPTER VII
A "Spirited" Box
The native boy raced across the open compound toward the group of low
buildings where the servants slept.Jack and Biff ran side by side, ten
feet behind the boy. "What is it, Chuba? What is it?" Jack called. But the boy didn't answer
until he reached the door of one of the small white cabins.There he
stopped, gasping for breath, and turned to Jack and Biff. His face was
contorted with fear; his eyes were opened wide and filled with terror. "Now get hold of yourself, Chuba. Steady. We're right here.What's
inside your cabin that's so frightening?" Chuba's voice trembled as he spoke. "The evil ones. They come. They come
to punish Chuba and the father of Chuba." "The evil ones? What are you talking about? "Jack's voice was firm, but
his tone was kind. He had to quiet this boy's fears. "It has been spoken," Chuba said, his voice trembling. "Many, many years
ago, the gods spoke to the ancestors of my father.They said"--and here
the boy's voice almost broke--"they said that evil will befall any
member of the House of Chin Fu who leaves his land to become a slave of
the white man." Biff watched the boy.He felt sympathy toward him, yet it was hard for
Biff to believe that such superstitious beliefs could still cast their
spell in these modern days. "That's nonsense, Chuba. You and your father are not slaves. You are
honorable workers.Without your help, we could not live here. You are
well paid, and you hold positions of responsibility and dignity. Enough
of this. Just what is inside your cabin?" "Chuba not know. But is bad. Very bad.It is voices of the evil ones,
casting spell on Chuba and his honorable father." "All right. Come on and show us what it is." "Please, Sahib Jack. You to go first." "Okay. Come on, Biff." Jack and Biff entered the one-room cabin.It was small, but comfortably
furnished. Beds stood against the walls on either side of the room. At
the rear there was a small, compact kitchen. Biff and Jack inspected the
room quickly. They saw nothing unusual.Chuba stood behind them, standing on tiptoes. "There!" he said. "Watch, and you shall hear evil spirits." He pointed
to a small box on the floor by one of the beds. As they watched, a low growl came from the box. The growl grew louder.It became a wail. Then it turned into the high, piercing scream of a
siren. It held this chilling, blood-curdling pitch for about ten
seconds. Then the lid of the box slowly raised. A yellowish hand
emerged. It bent over the front of the box.One finger touched a small
button. The high scream dropped down to a wail, then to a growl, then
stopped. The hand withdrew into the box. The lid closed. All was silent
again.Biff put a restraining hand on Chuba, keeping the boy from fleeing in
terror. On Biff's face a slow grin was spreading. He wanted to laugh,
but one glance at Chuba's stricken face stopped him. This was a serious
thing to Chuba.Chuba would feel Biff was laughing at him, insulting
him. Jack stared at the box in amazement. "Now just what on earth is that
thing?" He scratched his head. Biff started across the room toward the
box. "Hold it, Biff.We don't know what that gadget might be. Might be a
bomb." Now Biff did laugh. Even Jack was concerned. Not terror-stricken like
Chuba, but the weird performance of the box had undoubtedly alarmed
Jack.Biff reached for the box, bent over, and picked it up. Chuba cowered
behind Jack. But the native boy's curiosity got the better of him. He
watched Biff's every move, his eyes wide. "It's only a toy, Jack," Biff said. "My kid brother got one last
Christmas. It was the newest thing out. Caused a sensation." "Let me take a look at it," Jack said, and Biff handed it to him. A great feeling of relief had come over Biff.When Chuba had come
rushing in, crying out in a voice filled with fright, Biff had figured
that another in the series of strange happenings had taken place.To
discover that all the excitement was only about a toy relaxed Biff
completely for the first time since he had arrived in the Orient. Jack inspected the toy somewhat gingerly. "How does it work?" Biff took the box back. "Look. I'll show you. "He raised the lid of the
box, and as he did so, Chuba took a step back. He was taking no chances
with evil spirits even if the Americans did. Jack's and Biff's heads
were together inspecting the box. This was too much for Chuba. He had to
see, too.He cautiously poked his head forward for a closer look. "See this small siren? That's where the noises come from. The toy has
two small batteries, like the ones used in a transistor radio. They
power this small motor, and it does the rest.Raises the lid and makes
this hand snake out." Biff looked at Chuba and smiled. A shy, friendly grin lit up the native
boy's face. "Want to see it work with the lid open?" Chuba nodded his head rapidly. Biff set the toy in motion.The siren reached its high pitch. The hand,
attached to the end of a small iron rod, snaked out, flopped over the
front side of the box, and touched the cut-off button. "That's all there is to it. Some gadget, isn't it?" Jack laughed. "I can see how it must have been the toy sensation of last
Christmas. I can also see why it scared the daylights out of Chuba. It
would scare me, too, if it woke me from a sound sleep." "That's what happen, Sahib Jack. I sleep deep.This thing start
screaming. Chuba jump, run fast, plenty scared, for help." "I suppose once it's turned on, it keeps operating until the batteries
run out." "That's right," Biff said. "Its action is set so it goes off once about
every three minutes.You turn it off here." Biff pointed to a switch on
the bottom of the box. "But how it get in my father's house this morning?" Chuba demanded. "I can answer that one." Jack's shoulders started shaking with laughter.Biff started laughing, too, partly from relief, and partly because when
Jack laughed everyone joined in. Chuba, his eyes darting from Jack to
Biff, decided his worries had passed. He giggled shyly at first, then
added his high laugh to the chorus.The little white cabin shook with
their hilarity. "The 'evil' one, Chuba," Jack said, "is a certain red-headed maintenance
mechanic called Muscles." "Muscles! Him play another joke on Chuba. He much cool fellow. Him way
in." "What's this? "Biff thought. "Jive talk from a native boy? This kid's
all right." "You mean this Muscles is real cool; he's way out, don't you, Chuba?" Biff asked. "That's what Chuba say. He here, man, here." Biff slapped his thighs and doubled up again with glee.Chuba's mixed-up
talk was so far "gone," it had come back to "here." "How old are you, Chuba?" Jack asked. Chuba drew himself fully erect. He puffed out his chest. "Chuba soon be
sixteen." "Aren't you about the same, Biff?" Biff nodded his head. "Chuba, shake
hands with Biff Brewster. Biff's Sahib Charlie's nephew." The boys shook hands. There was no doubt but that they took to one
another right off. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
"Chuba, you show Biff around.I've got to get back and see if Mike's
been able to--"
"I get it, Jack," Biff said. The two boys watched Jack stride back to Headquarters House. "Come, Sahib Biff, I show you many things." Biff didn't reply at once.A plan was beginning to shape up in his head. It would work, too, with the help of Chuba. "Okay, Chuba. But first off--cut out that sahib stuff. To you, I'm just
plain Biff. "CHAPTER VIII
Still Missing
The friendship between Biff and Chuba developed rapidly. Chuba was an
odd boy, with his mixed-up jive talk, his quick Oriental mind, and his
desperate anxiety to be "like American kid. "He was half a head shorter
than Biff. He had long, black, wiry hair, usually plastered down with
smelly hair tonics. These he got from Muscles.The burly mechanic tried
every new hair conditioner that came along, in an attempt to control his
unruly light brown hair. Chuba's skin was dark, so deeply tanned that
its yellowish tinge from his Chinese blood hardly showed.He looked more
Burmese than Chinese. His daily clothes were a pair of hand-me-down brown shorts and hand-made
sandals, ideal for the heavy, humid weather which turned the
jungle-enclosed camp into a smoking oven.The shorts Chuba got from the
Americans in the camp. Chuba did his own alterations on the shorts to
cut them down to his size. He was far from an expert tailor. One pair
had the left leg six inches longer than the right.Another pair, handed
down from a man with a forty-four-inch waist, gave Chuba a laughable
balloon effect in the rear, particularly when he ran. Biff's second day at the camp in Unhao began with a visit to the
communications room.Mike Dawson, the radio operator, merely shook his
head at the question written on Biff's face. No word from Uncle Charlie. Biff hurried through breakfast.He left Headquarters House, stepping
into a blazing sun already sending heat waves up from the brown dirt
surface of the camp. Chuba was waiting just outside the entrance to headquarters. "I hurry up this morning. Help my father.Now I can show you rest of
camp." Chuba's father was in charge of the servants in the camp. "My
father Number One Boss here," Chuba told Biff proudly. The boys roamed around for more than an hour.Chuba chattered on as fast
as any of the monkeys scampering about the trees which fringed the camp. "Are there elephants around here?" Biff asked. "Yesterday morning I
thought I saw one out of my bedroom window." "Sure. Sure. Much elephants.Wild ones." Chuba grinned. "But one you saw
must be Suzie. She dig it here big. That means likes it here," Chuba
explained. Biff smiled to himself. "When they clear jungle to make the
camp, many elephants used to push over trees, and pull them away.When
job is done, Suzie and Tiny, that's the other elephant, they won't
leave. So--who can make an elephant go when he no want to? They stay
on." "Where did you pick up all this jive talk, Chuba?" Biff asked. "Jive talk?You mean talk like American boys?" "They don't all talk that way. Jive talk is American slang. Some boys
use it more than others." "I learn it from Muscles. He has many magazines come to him by the mail
from United States.Many books of the comics, too. You like to meet up
with Muscles? He come back from Rangoon early this morning." "I sure would," Biff said. There was no mistaking Muscles. Biff spotted him as soon as they entered
the hangar.The plane maintenance mechanic, wearing only shorts, shoes,
and a long white mechanic's coat, towered over the small natives whom he
was directing. Big was the word for Muscles.Biff could only compare him
with some of the giant linesmen he had seen play for the Chicago Bears
professional football team. He and his father went to the games in
Chicago every now and then.As the boys approached the plane Muscles was working on, they saw the
powerful man heave an oil drum off the floor as if it were made of
tissue paper. The drum could have weighed anywhere from one hundred to
three hundred pounds.He up-ended the drum, and a heavy stream of thick
oil flowed smoothly to the intake pipe. Muscles held the drum steadily
for a couple of minutes. "That ought to do it," he said, and put the drum back on the floor. He
looked at the boys. "Well, now, if it isn't my young friend and Number One boy Chuba. Hey,
did you have a visitor yesterday morning?" A big grin cracked across
Muscles' face. It was clear that Muscles had a great liking for the
Chinese boy. "Friend?No friend," Chuba replied. He didn't want Muscles to think he
had been frightened by what Chuba now called his Evil Spirit Box. "I
find evil spirits in my room. They make with strange noises, like wild
animals howling." "Yeah? "Muscles was all interest. "So what gave? Did the evil spirits
send you?" "I send them. I take evil spirit's hand, shake it good, and evil
spirit's howl become purr of pussycat." "Didn't scare you?Gosh, and that thing cost me twenty bucks to have it
sent out from the States." Muscles was disappointed. Biff grinned. Chuba
had carried the thing off well.He wasn't going to give Muscles the
satisfaction of knowing how really frightened he had been. "And you must be Biff Brewster." Muscles turned away from Chuba. "Charlie Keene's nephew." "You're right the first time, Muscles.I've sure heard a lot about you. Particularly from Chuba." "I'm going to make an American kid out of that rascal, no matter what. Say, I'm awfully sorry about your uncle." He paused, as he saw a worried
look come over Biff's face.Then he hurried on rapidly. "But don't
worry. Charlie Keene can take care of himself. He always has. I was with
him in Korea, and I know. He'll get back. If he doesn't, we'll go in and
get him. "Going into Red China to hunt for his uncle had been a thought growing
more and more prominent in Biff's mind. If no word came from Uncle
Charlie soon, Biff knew that he couldn't just sit around and wait any
longer. He'd have to do something.After a few more minutes of talk with Muscles, Biff and Chuba left the
hangar. Biff was silent as they walked across the hot field to the shade
of a small coconut palm grove. Chuba kept rattling on, but his words
just bounced off Biff's ears.Biff seated himself against the leaning
trunk of a palm. "Sit down a minute, Chuba. I want to ask you some questions." "Shoots. Chuba will make with the answers." Biff frowned. "Tell me, just how tough would it be to slip across the
border into China?" "For Chuba, easy. Very easy. I do it many times." "How about me? Think I could get across?" "Not by yourself.But with Chuba for Number One guide--" The native boy
shrugged his shoulders. "I know all trails. I know just where Red border
patrol guards strong, and where they guard weak. Afraid to guard some
places." "Why is that?" "Wild animals.Black bears--fierce, big, kill a man with one big swipe
with paw. Also tigers and leopards. Snakes, too. All kinds. They hang
from trees. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Big python slide off tree, wrap around man's neck and--urgle
gurgle--" Chuba made a rattling noise in his throat. "No more man." Biff swallowed hard. "And you go over the border in a place where all
the wild animals are?" "Sure," Chuba boasted. "Chuba smell and see animals before they see
Chuba. Is safer to go into China that way." "That way? Safer?What do you mean?" "Red patrol stays close to main road. Sometimes they let kids like me
through. But, if they angry, or their Big Boss chew 'em out, then they
don't care whether you kid or not.They shoot you or catch you and make
you work like slave. Once you in slave labor camp, you never come back." Biff was silent. "You think maybe you like to go in find your Uncle Charlie. Put snatch
on him from Red baddies? ""Something like that, Chuba. Think we could do it?" Chuba didn't answer too quickly. His thin face was screwed up in
thought. "Be most rough. But we smart. Most patrol dumb. Maybe all go
well--maybe not--"
Biff didn't want to hear any more.His mind was made up. If they had a
fifty-fifty chance of finding Uncle Charlie, then that was all he
wanted. "Meet me back here in an hour, Chuba. I want to talk to Sahib Jack. "Biff found Jack Hudson in the communications center, pouring over a
large map of China. Biff moved to his side. "Trying to figure out where Charlie might be," Jack said. He pointed to
a position on the map. "Now if you drew a line from Chungking to Chengtu, I'd say he was
somewhere west of that line." Biff leaned closer. "Why do you think he's in that area?" he asked. "Well, I do remember Charlie's mentioning a small place called
Jaraminka.About two, maybe three weeks ago. He'd just received a letter
from his friend, Ling Tang, back in the States. Right after that, he
went into Rangoon for a few days. I do know that there's a village by
that name somewhere in that area. ""Rough country?" Biff asked. "In spots. It's north of the Yunnan plateau. In the foothills of Mt. Minya Konka. And some of those foothills would be called mountains back
where you come from." Jack smiled. "Anything else to go on?" Biff wanted to know. "Well, we do know how much gas Charlie was carrying. Enough for about
1,200 miles. He'd have to allow for a safety margin. As I told you, I
figure he planned on about 500 miles in, and 500 back, of course.That
would give him a 200-mile safety factor." Jack leaned back against the map table, scratched his head, and lit a
cigarette. "Another thing ... that radio signal we got." "You mean the one yesterday?" "Yes.Now if that was your uncle calling...."
"You're still not sure it was Uncle Charlie?" "Well, I guess I am. Let's say it was. That's another reason I figure
he's over toward the mountain range." "I'm not reading you too clearly right now," Biff said.Jack laughed. "I'll try to explain. Charlie had a portable radio
transmitter with him. A good one, battery operated. Its maximum range
would be about 500 miles under ideal conditions. That means he'd have to
have straight-line transmission. ""You mean nothing in the way, like a high mountain?" "That's right, Biff. Transmission is greatly reduced if your wave has to
bend over hills or mountains." "So you figure he's got to be high enough to shoot a straight wave
directly to Unhao. "Jack nodded his head. "And the elevation around Jaraminka really fills
that bill--5,000 to 6,000 feet." "How could he ever land in such rugged terrain?" Biff asked. "Plenty of small plateaus. Some of them have been cleared for farming. "Biff picked up a drawing compass. He adjusted its opening to fit the
five-hundred-mile mark on the scale of miles at the bottom of the map. Then, placing the steel point on the dot marking Unhao, he swirled the
compass.The pencil end cut right through the area Jack was describing. "Nice figuring, Jack." A faraway look floated across Biff's face. "Hey! You're not getting any ideas, are you?" Jack demanded. "An
American boy could never make it across the border.Natives, sure--but
you--never." Maybe not, thought Biff, but in his thoughts, he was already there. CHAPTER IX
Into the Jungle
A light-skinned boy could never make it.That thought, first suggested
by Chuba, restated by Jack Hudson, kept running through Biff's head. The
Chinese Reds' border patrol would spot a white boy instantly. Biff
remembered stories he had read of Americans captured in Red China.The
stories weren't pleasant. Biff left Headquarters House deep in thought. He walked slowly across
the compound. Chuba was waiting for him in the palm grove. "Biff has big thoughts?" was Chuba's greeting. "Maybe Chuba can help. ""Maybe you can, Chuba. Maybe you just can. I've got an idea. See what
you think of it." For fifteen minutes Biff spoke to Chuba. At first, the native boy kept
shaking his head. Then, as Biff's enthusiasm mounted, Chuba was swept up
by the idea.Negative shakes of his head became excited head shakes of
agreement. Chuba's eyes lighted up. Now he cut in on Biff's enthusiasm
with bursts of his own. He took over Biff's plan, and added to it.Biff
was a hard one to resist when he became enthusiastic about anything he
wanted to do. And this he meant to do. "We can do it, Biff," Chuba said. There was no holding the boy now. "I
get things ready on double quick. Have much ideas.But will take time." "How much time?" Biff demanded. "Two hours--maybe three. Then you come to the house of my father. You
know, where you saw Evil Spirit Box. Chuba be all ready." "Chuba, you're a really smooth operator." "Like real American boy? ""You said it." Chuba's mouth was split into a wide grin of pride. No praise could have
pleased him more. Toward late afternoon, Jack Hudson ran his hand over his forehead. He
was tired. He hated paper work.All afternoon, he had been poring over
files, checking bills, answering letters. The work had to be done, but
he wished there was someone else to do it. Action, that's what he liked. Not sitting at a desk in a hot room.As cluttered as his mind was with facts and figures, the thought of his
missing friend, Charles Keene, kept coming back again and again. Jack
thought of Biff, too. He didn't like the idea he felt sure was building
in Biff's mind. Too risky, of course.But, he told himself, this sitting
around, just waiting, was getting him down too. With an impatient sweep of his arm, Jack shoved the papers away from
him. He stretched, got up, and made for the front entrance of
Headquarters House.On the raised platform, six steps above the ground,
Jack stopped to light a cigarette. As he did so, his attention was
caught by a beggar boy coming at a run across the compound. The boy
reached the foot of the steps and sprawled on the ground. "Baksheesh, Sahib! Baksheesh!" the boy wailed. Jack Hudson looked down at the boy, his feeling of disgust mingled with
one of sympathy. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
These poor kids, he thought, trained to beg from the
day they could walk.Baksheesh, the word for a tip, a present, was used
in many places in the East and Far East. "Baksheesh! Baksheesh!" the boy continued to moan. Jack looked about him. He spotted Chuba's father. "Ti Pao. Come here. Chop! Chop!" Ti Pao came on the run.He could tell Sahib Hudson was annoyed. "You know my orders, Ti Pao. No beggars allowed in the compound. How did
this boy get in?" Ti Pao shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe slip through gate, or hide in
truck coming through." "Well, get him out of here.You know that twice a week, we hand out food
and alms to the beggars. They are not to come inside." "Baksheesh, Sahib! Baksheesh." The plea came again. "Take him away, Ti Pao." Jack Hudson turned, and started to reenter the
building.As he did so, the beggar said softly, "No baksheesh? Not even
Coke money?" Jack whirled around. The beggar boy was already heading for the gate. Jack scratched his head. "I could have sworn he said-- Nah! I must have
been hearing things.Must be the heat," he mumbled to himself. He shook
his head and went through the door. The beggar boy neared the gate, then cut to the left. He raced through
the palm grove, then carefully, stealthily, made his way to the cabin of
Ti Pao.There was just a flash of brown, ragged clothing as he slipped
through the door. "It work. It work! Biff!" Chuba danced up and down in his excitement. The beggar boy grinned. It was the grin of a happy Biff Brewster. "I'll say it worked.Even your father didn't recognize me." "Not Sahib Hudson, either?" Biff shook his head. "Nope. I fooled him completely. I even spoke some
American words. Course, I said them low, just as I was leaving. Don't
know whether he heard them or not. ""Let me take closer look," Chuba said. Biff turned slowly around as
Chuba made his inspection. "Is much okays. I only afraid sweat make betel nut juice get all
smeary." "I was afraid of that, too, Chuba. But the stain didn't run. "Biff looked as much like a native boy as Chuba did. The tattered shorts
and torn shirt that he wore had been dug up by the always astonishing
Chuba. Biff's face, his body, his legs, were stained a light, yellowish
brown.This had been done with the juice of betel nuts, mixed and
thinned with still another liquid, to lighten the blackish fluid crushed
from the betel. On his feet, Biff wore floppy, torn sandals. "Only one thing, Biff. Your eyes. Should be more slanty.I fix." Chuba took out a piece of charcoal. At the outside corners of each of
Biff's eyes, Chuba deftly applied upward strokes with the charcoal. He
stepped back to view his handiwork. Then he went into a gale of
laughter. "You much China boy now.No one could tell difference." "Just call me the Chop Suey Kid," Biff laughed. "Chop Suey Kid? What's chop suey?" "You never heard of it?" Chuba shook his head. "Well, back in America it's our favorite Chinese food." Chuba looked puzzled.He still didn't get it. He shrugged it off. "Now,
we all set. No border guard ever spot you. Never tell you American boy." Biff had passed his test. Neither Jack Hudson nor, even more important,
Ti Pao, had penetrated his disguise. "Okay then, Chuba.We're all set. It's still an hour before the night
mess call. I think we'd better be well on our way by then. I'll be
missed when I don't show up for chow. And Jack Hudson will guess where
I've headed.But by then, it will be too late, too dark, to start a
search. What about food, and other stuff?" "All set. Chuba has everything. Even bottle of juice in case you start
turning back into white boy. We got food for two days.After that, Chuba
get more wherever we are." "All right, Chuba. Now I'm really going to let your father put me out
the gate. I'll follow the river until I reach the second bend. Then I'll
wait for you." "All is good. Chuba be right after you.Not look good for me to leave
here with lowly beggar boy." Chuba grinned, and Biff returned his smile. That night, by nine o'clock, the two boys were deep in the swampy jungle
between the Irrawaddy River and the border of China.CHAPTER X
The Barrier
Night turned the Burmese jungle into a frightening enemy. Towering
trees, teak, acle, ironwood, shot straight upward, so close packed and
dense that they blotted out the starlit sky.Vines, some of them as thick as a man's arm, were forever stretching low
across the boys' path, as if trying to hold them back from their bold
venture. What bothered Biff most of all was the sickening smell of the jungle.Rotted vegetation gave off a rank, stifling odor. Biff had been in the
jungles of Brazil, but they were nothing compared to the one he and
Chuba were forcing their way through.During the two hours they had traveled in the waning daylight, their
progress had been swift. Chuba knew the trails well.Sometimes, moving
at a trot several steps ahead of Biff, the native boy would seem to be
swallowed by hedges of low, thick brushwood. But he would reappear,
parting the thick growth so that Biff could follow.Moving swiftly, silently, without talking, to conserve their breath,
Biff was suddenly startled. From directly overhead came a chorus of
angry screams. Biff stopped and looked up. "Only monkeys, Biff," Chuba called back. "We wake them from their sleep,
and they no like. Come." Once again Chuba took up his steady pace. Thorny bushes grabbed at
Biff's already tattered clothes. Ugly scratches marked his legs.Most
upsetting was the unexpected change from dry land into dank, oozing
swampland. Chuba never stopped, or gave any warning of what lay ahead. Time and again the native boy plunged into a narrow stream.Once the
water, muddy, almost hot, came up to Biff's waist. As he neared the
opposite bank, he halted a moment to look back. "Biff! Biff! Hurry! Out of the water! "Biff leaped for the bank just as a partly submerged log moved swiftly
through the water to the spot where he had been standing. As it reached
the bank, the "log's" jaws opened, and Biff heard the chilling sound of
teeth gnashing together. "Crocodile, Biff. Never stop in stream. Old croc might be hungry." "If he likes mud-flavored boy, I'm his dish," Biff thought. [Illustration: _Biff heard the chilling sound of teeth gnashing
together_]
After traveling for six hours with only brief rest breaks, the boys were
bone weary. Biff figured it must be midnight or a little after.They had
reached a small clearing, a circle about thirty feet across. Toward one
side a single ironwood tree rose high above the surrounding underbrush. "We stop here for the night," Chuba said. "You ever sleep in a tree?" "Once.Didn't find it very comfortable though. Do we have to?" "Is much better. This tree has nice big limbs. Find good crotch, settle
in it, and sleep real good. Too many animals on the ground. Animals and
insects. Big ants, geckos, even wild pigs.You know gecko? Is big, slimy
lizard. Wild pigs don't care who they eat. And ants sting real bad. Much
better in tree." | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Chuba stood at the base of the tree. "You give me push up to first limb. Then I can give you my hand to pull you up. Come on. "Biff didn't reply, or move. His eyes were intent on a vine that hung
down from one of the higher limbs. It seemed to sway slightly. But there
was no breeze. "Back, Chuba! Back!" Biff shouted. Chuba leaped backward.Biff, fascinated, watched the "vine" stretch
downward, then slither off the branch and plunge downward. "Python!" Chuba cried out. "Yes. Python. I've seen them before. Not pythons like that one, but
boas. Boa constrictors of South America.They're of the same family." The boys now stood in the center of the circle. The python, nearly
twenty feet long, seemed to stare at Biff and Chuba. Then it slowly
slithered into the underbrush. Biff looked at Chuba. The native boy lowered his head. "Is Chuba's
mistake. Always, my father tell me to be sure and check sleeping tree
for python. Chuba forget this time. If Biff not so alert, maybe python
now be around Chuba's neck instead of deep in forest." "Any chance of its coming back?If it went up that tree once, why
shouldn't it come up again? And with us up there!" "Oh, no. Once snake scared away, it not come back. This Chuba knows. Python climb up tree to attack enemies by dropping down. Never climb up
to find enemies. ""Well, I just hope you're right. Come on, let's hop into our upper
berths." "Upper berths?" Chuba asked. Biff explained, and the two boys climbed up the tree to their sleeping
quarters.Biff watched Chuba as he nestled down on a stout limb forming
a crotch with the trunk of the tree. Chuba stretched out backward, his
legs on either side of the tree trunk. Biff did the same. At first, the
position was most uncomfortable.Biff felt he had to keep his knees
tightly pressed against the tree trunk to keep from falling. Gradually,
though, he squirmed into a position where his legs dangled down, each
touching the trunk with just enough pressure to keep him balanced.Some bed, Biff thought. Then, his body aching from battling his way
through the jungle, Biff slept. Early in the morning, with the sun fighting to send its rays through the
dense jungle, Biff was awakened by a call from just above him.Chuba was
about five limbs higher up. "Good sleep, Biff?" Chuba called down. Before answering, Biff tested his cramped arms and legs. He was stiff
all over. Sleeping in a tree might be safe, but it certainly was no
featherbed.He knew though, that after half an hour in the hot, steamy
jungle, he would sweat all the stiffness out of his body. "Guess so. I slept, anyway," he called up to Chuba. "Then we go down, and be on our way. We should reach border in two more
hours. "The sun had brightened the circular opening below, about the only spot
where the sun's rays could get through. Biff heard Chuba scrambling down
from above him. Then he looked down and gasped.There in the center of
the circle, stretched out asleep, was the most magnificent animal he had
ever seen. "Hold it up there, Chuba," Biff said softly. The scrambling stopped. "Can you see down through the leaves? "Chuba's answering gasp told him that he could. The animal below, enjoying a morning snooze, was a tiger. Both boys held their breath, afraid that even the slightest sound might
awaken the sleeping beast. Moments passed.Then, in a whisper, Biff
asked, "What do we do now?" Chuba's answering whisper came down through the leaves. "We wait, Biff. All we can do. If we try to scare him away, he get mad, wait for us to
fall out of tree and eat us. "Chuba's knowledge, Biff realized, was mixed up with superstition and
tales handed down from one generation to another. Tigers, Biff knew,
were man-eaters only in certain circumstances. A wounded tiger would
attack a man.So would one so old that it could no longer get its food
easily. Then, man, less quick, less nimble than the animals tigers
usually fed on, could well become the evening meal of a tiger. Biff looked down at the sleeping animal.Its sleek, glistening fur told
him that this was a young tiger. Its white furry underbelly was puffed
out. That tiger had had a good meal, Biff knew. Probably caught his
breakfast just before daylight, and now he was having a nice nap in the
sun. "Is he still sleeping?" Chuba whispered. "Like a baby after its morning bottle," Biff whispered back. Biff didn't
think the tiger would sleep too long. Not as the morning sun rose
higher, and its fiery rays burned down on the opening.Once they hit Mr.
Tiger, the animal would move off to a shady spot and complete his rest. As Biff watched the animal, the jungle suddenly came alive with the
screeching, cawing, and screaming of hundreds of birds and animals. The tiger sat up quickly.It rose to its feet, its long tail switching
back and forth. Then it opened its mouth in a gaping yawn, showing
glistening white teeth and fangs. It turned its head from side to side,
looking to spot any danger. "That noise from the monkeys," Chuba called down. "Or maybe wildcats. They chasing the parrots. All very much mad at each other." "Good for them," Biff called back. "They woke up our friend down there. I think old tiger's going to move along. "Biff watched the tiger. He saw it stretch, arching its back very much
like any tomcat. It slowly trotted out of the clearing into the dense
undergrowth. "Tiger's gone, Chuba. We'll wait awhile, then let's take off from here
fast. "Biff had no way of counting the passing minutes. He had left his watch
back at Unhao. It would be a fatal error, he knew, if a Chinese beggar
boy were spotted wearing a wrist watch. He forced himself to wait.He
wanted to be sure that the tiger was long gone to another sleeping spot. The minutes went by as the sounds of the jungle grew louder and louder.Crows added their angry caws to the symphony of sounds coming from
herons, silver pheasants, and other birds. "I think it's safe now, Chuba. What do you think?" Biff's answer was the sound of Chuba scrambling down from his perch. "Okay, Biff, we go. "The boys climbed down, dropping the final ten feet to the ground. Chuba
opened his bundle and took from it two handfuls of cooked rice.They ate
as they took up their trek once again, scooping up a handful of water
from the first clear stream they came to. After traveling an hour, by which time the sweat was pouring off Biff's
body, soaking his ragged clothes, Chuba stopped. "We're not far from border now, Biff. Maybe another hour, maybe less,
until we get there." "And where we cross there won't be any border guards?" Biff asked. "Chuba doesn't think so.Main road where guard always patrols is south
of here, almost a day's walk. Thus path we on leads to small, narrow
river. River is boundary between Burma and China. Where we cross is a
small clearing. River not deep there. Only up to knees.Easy to get to
other side." The other side was China. The thought sent a thrilling chill through
Biff's body. "We move with much quiet now," Chuba said. "Stay close together. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Might
be others at clearing. Not guards, but maybe Chinese bandits.They use
this path too, when they fleeing Chinese soldiers." Biff and Chuba moved quickly but cautiously along the trail. Every few
yards, Chuba would stop, straining to catch any unusual sound that might
warn of danger ahead.At every hidden turn in the path, Chuba would
crawl forward, then signal to Biff that all was clear, to come ahead. "We're almost there now," Chuba whispered. "Around next bend in path, we
come to clearing and the river. Go slow now. Most careful. "The boys seemed to move ahead by inches. They neared the final bend. On
reaching it, Chuba slipped off the path, pressing his body behind a
large palm tree. Biff came up behind, looking over Chuba's shoulder.They craned their necks around the tree trunk until the edge of the
clearing came in sight. "Looks like it's all clear," Biff said. Chuba nodded his head. They left the protection of the tree.Darting
from one low bush to another, they came to the edge of the opening. All
was clear in the opening on their side of the river. Then, raising their
heads, they looked across the thirty feet of water separating them from
China.Both drew back quickly. Two men, wearing peaked, long-billed caps sat in
the middle of the clearing on the opposite bank. Red stars on the front
of their caps told the boys who they were.Not bandits, not others
seeking a safe passage from one country to the other. These two men were
members of the border patrol. The two ugly, snub-nosed sub-machine guns
were further proof, if further proof was necessary.Biff shot a quick look at Chuba. For the first time Biff saw fear--stark
terror--written on the native boy's face. CHAPTER XI
Inside China
Biff placed a hand on his friend's arm. Why, Chuba was trembling!The
realization of Chuba's fear of the border patrol was startling to Biff. Chuba showed no such fear in the jungle. He wasn't afraid of crocodiles,
snakes, or tigers. He respected them as man's natural enemies.But now, confronted with the border guard, Chuba was near panic. Biff
thought back to Chuba's talk about how easy it was to cross the border,
how he said he'd crossed several times.When they were discussing this
dangerous trip, Chuba had practically brushed the guards aside as no
problem. But the fear must have been there, just the same. Chuba was a
good actor.Biff realized just how much courage it must have taken on
Chuba's part to agree to guide him into China. He gripped the native
boy's arm in friendship and to reassure him. "Take it easy, Chuba. We're all right.But let's cut back down the trail
and figure out what we can do." Biff flashed a smile at Chuba and
signaled the direction he meant to take. Chuba followed close on his
heels like a puppy.After retracing their steps for about one hundred yards down the path,
the boys ducked off the trail and found a hiding place behind a thick
clump of bushes. For a few moments Biff talked quietly.He talked about Indianapolis, his
home, about the United States. He talked about anything that came into
his head. He wanted to calm Chuba down. "American talk," he thought,
would do the trick since it was Chuba's favorite subject.Soon a weak
smile came over Chuba's face. "I'm sorry, Biff," he apologized. "I'm
sorry I act like chicken." "That's okay, Chuba. I'd have been scared, too, if I knew as much about
the border guard as you do." "I hear many things. All bad. ""Tell me honestly, Chuba. You said you've crossed over several times. Have you, really?" "Yes, Biff. Chuba not lie. Only," he paused, "never any border guard
around when Chuba slip over before." "I see. Well, what do we do about it?You think the guard will stay
there all day?" "Can't tell. Much likely they will stay long time." "I suppose so," Biff said. He thought a minute. "It might be that
there's been a lot of slipping across the border here lately, and these
guards have been assigned to stop it." "I think you right, Biff." Neither spoke for several minutes.Both were trying to figure a way out
of the spot they found themselves in. "How about this, Chuba? Couldn't we either go up the river a couple
hundred yards or more, or down the river and slip across?" Chuba shook his head. "No, Biff.River narrow, run very quick on both
sides of the clearing. Too deep. Jungle grow real thick and fierce right
to water's edge. Can't get through." "Well, we've just got to get across somehow. We're losing time. "As Biff
spoke, another thought was building in his head. "Now let me ask you this, Chuba. See if you think this plan might work. Supposing I cut off the trail about a hundred feet from the clearing.I'll make my way through the underbrush to a spot say seventy-five feet
away from the trail. You go hide behind that tree where we first spotted
the guard. You follow me?" "Okay so far." "Right. Then I'll yell like a Comanche.That ought to distract the
guard. They'll try to find who's making the noise. If they leave the
clearing, you can slip across the river." "Good idea, Biff. But how about you? How you going to get across?" "Same way.Only this time _you_ do the distracting. You yell like a
Comanche." Chuba grinned. "Could work. But how does Comanche bird yell?" Biff decided to postpone his lecture on TV westerns until another time. "Don't worry about it. Just yell like I do.We've got to try it. It's
our only chance. Now, if you get across all right, wait. Wait a good
long time. By then, the guards will probably give up the search and
return to their post in the clearing.I don't imagine they like prowling
around the jungle too much." "No, too many wild animals." "Okay. So, you'd better make your way a good distance from the clearing.Say you go to a place about a hundred yards opposite the
river--downriver--so I'll know where to listen for you.You're going to
be on the same side as the guards, so be sure you're in a safe place and
can make a fast getaway if they should come anywhere near you." "Don't worry about that. Chuba can hide good in jungle." "All right, let's get moving. "But neither moved for a few minutes. Both
boys were reluctant to part company. They knew the danger lying before
them. They might never see one another again, if Biff's plan failed. "Now, where will we meet?" Biff asked. "You just keep running down path after you cross river. Get as far as
you can. Then find good hiding place. When I know guard has gone back to
clearing, I'll move along trail making sound like a crow. Like this." Chuba let out a soft "caw, caw. "It was an exact imitation. Chuba
wouldn't have any trouble being a "Comanche bird," either, Biff thought. "Good. I'm off." Biff pushed his way into the underbrush. It was tough
going. The low, dense vegetation tore at him.Vines dropped like heavy
curtains from the tall trees hiding whatever lay ahead. It was steaming
hot. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Biff wrestled the jungle growth, sweat streaming down his face and
body.It must have taken him nearly half an hour to penetrate a distance
of about 75 or 100 feet. Chuba could hear Biff making his way through the brush. At first, he
didn't move. He knew he had to go back to the clearing, but the thought
was frightening.It took all his courage to force himself back up the
path. But he knew that if he didn't, he would let his friend down. Biff's plan depended on Chuba's being at the clearing at the right
moment. Yet, if the plan misfired--Chuba shuddered.Back at the edge of the clearing, Chuba crawled on his stomach to where
the low growth stopped. Carefully he parted the bush he lay behind. The
peephole allowed him a full view of the clearing. They were still there.The two guards squatted on their haunches. One
was munching some food. The other braced himself by holding onto the
barrel of his sub-machine gun, the gun's butt resting on the ground. Chuba inched backward. He took up his position behind the tree.Biff's
yelling could come any moment now. What would the guards do? Would they
come charging across the stream to do their searching? Chuba didn't
think so.If they did, then they would be crossing the border illegally,
although Chuba knew that often the guards paid scant attention to this
regulation. What if only one guard took up the search, the other remaining behind to
guard the clearing?One good thing, Chuba knew, was that from the
direction Biff had taken, it might appear that the yelling came from the
same side of the river that the guards were on. There was a sharp turn
in the stream about thirty feet to the west of the clearing.If Biff
made his way toward the riverbank, he might actually be behind the
guards, but still on the side opposite from them. "Eeeeee-owieeeee! "The sharp, piercing scream rose above the constant chattering of the
monkeys, the shrill calls of jungle birds. For a moment, the jungle
became silent. The monkeys and birds were as startled as the two guards. So _that_ was American bird yell! "Much wow!" Chuba was impressed. Chuba, moving slightly forward, saw the guards leap to their feet. They
looked about them quickly. Both released the safety catches on their
weapons. They raised their guns to firing position. "Eeeee-owieeeee! "Again the wild cry blasted through the jungle. The guards turned in the direction the cry came from. "Yow! Yow! Yow! Yow!" The series of short cries came in rapid succession. The jungle had never heard a sound like it.It could only come from a
human being. One of the guards motioned in the direction of the cries. Then he started toward the spot. The other guard held back, until his
companion turned and spoke to him in an angry voice.The two plunged
into the undergrowth. Now was his chance. With his heart pounding, fear tightening his throat
muscles, Chuba made his dash. He was in mid-stream when once more Biff
let out a series of short cries, followed by a long "Eeeee-owieeee! "A good thing he did, too. His shouting drowned out the splashes made by
Chuba as he raced through the water which tugged at his legs. Now Chuba
had reached the opposite shore. He tore down the trail, his lungs
bursting from his effort.When he felt the guards were well behind him, Chuba cut off to the left
of the trail, spotted a hiding place, and dived under the sprawling
bush. He lay there gasping for breath. How long he lay there, Chuba had no way of telling.Finally, he forced
himself to his feet. Biff might already be at the tree, waiting for
Chuba to take over his part in the action. Chuba moved along the path back toward the river.He moved cautiously,
silently, making no more noise than a big cat stalking its prey. When he
neared the clearing, Chuba went down to his hands and knees. Taking
advantage of the cover offered by the low bushes, he crept forward.Again carefully parting a heavy bush, he looked into the clearing. The guards had returned. They were talking rapidly to one another. Chuba
couldn't make out their words, but he felt sure they were talking about
the strange cry they had heard.They were probably frightened by it, and
at this thought, Chuba smiled. He felt a lot better now. He had made it
over the border. But even as he had this thought, he remembered Biff. Biff had to get across. Only half the job was done.Biff would surely be back at the tree by now. Time for more action. A
frown of doubt crossed Chuba's face. Would the guard be fooled a second
time? Chuba went ahead with the plan. He walked back up the trail for one
hundred paces.Then he slithered into the underbrush, crawling, forcing
his way through the wall of thick, spiny growth. If he, Chuba, made the same kind of noise Biff had made, wouldn't the
guards' suspicions be aroused? Already they would be tense, nervous.They hadn't found anything the first time. Wouldn't they just ignore a
second set of strange "Yows" and "Eeeee-owieeees?" Chuba felt sure they
would. So what could he do? He just had to help Biff cross. Okay, he
knew what he would do.He could outsmart the guard in the denseness of
the jungle. They would never be able to catch him. Chuba reached a position he thought would do. It was near the spot he
and Biff had discussed, as far as he could figure.He took a deep
breath, then, shouting in Chinese, he called out, "Help! Help! Strange
man here! Strange man! Help! Help!" He waited. Moments passed. He repeated his call for help.Seconds later,
he heard the crashing of the guards as they fought through the
underbrush. Chuba waited no longer. He got himself away from the spot where he had
called out as fast as he could wriggle his body along.He knew he had
made a safe getaway when he could no longer hear the guards struggling
against the brush. Chuba smiled to himself. He knew he was only about
fifty feet from the trail. He sat down.He would wait, a long wait this
time, to make sure the guard had gotten back to the clearing, and that
Biff had had plenty of time to put a good distance between himself and
the river. Chuba leaned back against the base of a tree.He felt good about the way
things had gone. Suddenly, the noises of the jungle were drowned out by the most horrible
noise of all--the angry, "_bup_, _bup_, _bup_" of a sub-machine gun's
fire. First there was a short burst. Another short burst.This was
followed by a longer burst as several rounds were fired. Then, silence. CHAPTER XII
Shooting the Yangtze Rapids
Eerie silence spread over the jungle following the machine-gun firing. The jungle was holding its breath.The monkeys, birds, even the cicadas,
stopped their endless chattering and calling for several moments. Chuba
sat rigid, his fists clenched, as fear tore at his nerves. Biff! What
had happened to his friend Biff? What could he do?What was there to do? The questions whirled in his
head. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
No sensible answers came.If he went back down the trail toward
the river, he might run into the guards, still prowling, ready to let
loose their deadly spray of bullets at the slightest strange sound or
movement. But what about Biff? Had those shots been directed at him?And
had they reached him? Chuba shuddered at the thought. After waiting as long as his worried mind would permit him, Chuba
decided to investigate. On his stomach, he wormed his way toward the
path. At the edge of the brush, he stopped.For minutes he lay still,
listening, listening, straining his ears to catch any sound that might
warn him of the guards' presence. "It's all right," he told himself, trying desperately to rebuild his
courage. "They've gone back to the clearing.It's safe for me to
explore." Just as Chuba snaked his body halfway out on the trail, he tensed. He
heard a noise behind him. Not much of a noise, only the faintest rustle
in the brush. Quickly the native boy worked his way backward off the
trail.Again he heard the noise, slightly louder this time. An animal, a snake? Chuba knew that his knife, long and sharp as it was, would be little
protection against a jungle animal. And even less against guards armed
with rapid-fire weapons.Then he caught another faint sound, soft, so soft as to be barely heard. "Eeeee-owieeeee." Silence. Then, slightly louder, "Yow ... Yow." Chuba's face brightened. "Caww ... caww," he answered. "Chuba" was the one word whispered in reply to his crow call. The native boy wiped his forehead with his forearm and sighed in relief. It was Biff. It had to be. Biff was all right. "Biff?" Chuba called in a squeaky voice.The boy scrambled to the edge
of the trail again. He looked carefully to his right, down the trail
toward the river. Then he looked left, where the Comanche call had been
sounded. He saw Biff's stained face poke out of the bushes about ten
feet away.A big grin showed white teeth even whiter against his brown
face. The two boys wasted no time in talk. They made tracks, and fast, away
from the river, away from the border guard.After an hour of steady
traveling, Chuba darted off the main path, following a little used one
deep into the bush. "We rest here," Chuba said, gasping for breath. "Okay by me," said Biff.It seemed to him that every bone, every muscle
in his body ached. The struggle through the jungle growth, the tension
of making the river crossing, had worn both boys out. Both were only too
happy to stretch out and let their bodies regain strength. "So this is China," Biff said wearily. He sat up, dug into his bundle, and took out a small bottle of
antiseptic. This he rubbed over the scratches on his legs and arms. He
handed the bottle to Chuba. Then he took out a large tube of insect
repellant.Flies and mosquitoes had formed a small cloud around the two. "What happened?" Chuba asked. "I heard much gun shoots. I worry. I think
maybe they shoot Biff." "They tried to, Chuba. I fooled 'em, though." "How you do this? ""Well, I got across the river all right without being seen. Those guards
really jumped when they heard you call. I'd gone maybe fifty feet down
the trail, on this side, when I heard the guards coming back out of the
brush, back to the trail.So I dived into a thicket and crawled away
from the trail. I don't know how long I waited. Then I heard the guards
getting nearer the spot where I was hiding." "They almost find you?" "Darn near it.I don't believe they could have been more than ten feet
from me at one time. That's when I figured I had to do something. I
found a stick about three feet long and as thick as your arm. I heard
the guards talking to one another.Then I hurled the stick as far as I
could. It crashed in the brush, made quite a noise. Just what I wanted. The guards rushed back down the trail toward the spot where the stick
landed. Then they opened up. That's the shooting you heard. "Chuba smiled. "I bet they cut big hole in underbrush with those
bullets." "But we fooled them, Chuba. We got across." "Now we better get moving again," the boy was suddenly very
businesslike. "Not far from here is small village.When we get there, we
take main road. Now we're inside China, no more have to take to secret
trails and paths. We just two Chinese beggar boys." By nightfall the boys had reached the crumbling gray wall surrounding a
small village. "In this village," said Chuba, "lives the young brother of my father. He
will give us shelter for the night." The boys passed through the village gate. Biff saw a small, rust-stained
cannon seemingly hanging down from the wall on one side of the gate.At
the other side, another cannon lay in the dirt at the base of the wall. It had long since broken away from its emplacement. Once, many years
ago, these cannon protected the village from the raids of bandits.But
now, the wall was crumbling in many places, and the city was open to
anyone wishing to enter. Biff and Chuba made their way along a narrow, dirt street, lined with
small houses made of thatch and mud.Men, women, and children, all
poorly dressed, moved back and forth, at times filling the street until
it was difficult for the boys to make their way. They reached the end of the street, a distance of not much more than a
quarter of a mile.Chuba cut off to his left toward a house standing
just inside the gray wall, but somewhat removed from the other houses. "The house of my uncle," Chuba said, pointing. Biff was glad to leave the street.It was littered with trash, and the
smells were sickening. "When we are inside the house of my uncle, you must not say a single
word," Chuba warned. "I do not want even him to know you are America
boy. I tell him you can hear but cannot talk.I tell him we on our way
to visit the older brother of my father, he who lives on the banks of
the Yangtze River." The house was roughly made of earthen bricks and thatched with wheat
straw. A small man stood at the entrance to the house.The doorway was
closed only by a drooping cloth, sewn together from several grain bags. Chuba bowed low as he approached his uncle. They spoke together rapidly. Biff, of course, could not understand a single word spoken. Chuba turned
to him. "My uncle welcomes us. He says we may sleep here, and he will feed us. Come, we go in." The floor of the house was earth, worn smooth and packed hard by the
feet of three generations of the uncle's family.A Chinese woman looked
at the boys as they entered, but spoke no word of greeting. She was the
uncle's wife. Two children, each younger and smaller than Chuba, stared
at the boys, their eyes round with wonder at seeing strangers.Chuba's uncle spoke to his wife. Minutes later she brought both the boys
a small portion of rice, served in an earthen saucer. The rice had
little or no flavor for Biff. But it was hot, and he ate every grain. Night had fallen.The only light came from the fire in the open oven set
in one wall of the house. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
The uncle spoke again to Chuba, and the boy nodded and motioned Biff to
follow. The uncle took them into a small room which was to be their
sleeping room.There were only three rooms in the house. Biff looked
about him. The room was bare except for one low bench standing in the
center. They would sleep that night on the dirt floor.And sleep they
did, as if they were in the most comfortable beds ever made. At dawn,
with another small bowl of rice to warm their stomachs, the boys were on
their way again.The boys crossed the Plateau of Yunnan and reached Chaochiang on the
Yangtze River. This was the small town where the older brother of
Chuba's father lived.From this uncle, Chuba borrowed a crudely built
small boat, held together with wire and wooden pegs. Two cumbersome,
double-bladed oars would be power. The boat was to be left at
Sundhiango, a village about one hundred miles west of Chungking.Chuba's
uncle would get it on his next trip to the large city. The Yangtze River, rising out of the mountains of Tibet on its 3,500
mile course to the Yellow Sea, flows swiftly in the western part of
China.The ugly, yellow water roars through chasms, with lofty crags on
either side rising 300 feet high. The little boat, Biff in the bow,
Chuba in the stern, raced along like a small chip of wood.It was fun at
first after the tiring days of fighting their way through the jungle on
foot. They sped through gorges, putting mile after mile behind them. As
they neared Sundhiango, the river widened.Boiling white water told Biff
that they were getting into shallower water. A roar from ahead told him
they were approaching rapids.They shot the first three rapids without trouble, then entered a broad,
smooth stretch of water where they drifted slowly with the current. Rounding a sharp bend, Biff again heard the roar of white water. This
time the roar was louder than before.The small craft suddenly picked up
speed. The boat plunged into the swirling, dashing water and was tossed
about as if it were a twig. Time and again, it seemed the boat would
crash on a huge boulder.Each time the current swirled it around just in
time to prevent a smashup. Looking ahead, Biff could see the end of the rapid. The round swell of
the water was a warning--falls ahead! There must be a drop of several
feet, Biff figured.He couldn't see directly beyond the falls. All that
was visible was a broad body of water beyond--smooth, quiet, wide enough
to be a small lake.There was nothing to do but pray that the boat would get safely over the
falls and into the calm water beyond. "Hold on, Chuba!" Biff called. Oars were useless now.The boat was caught up in a natural spillway, a narrow, fast-moving path
of water which shot over the falls and plunged downward. The boat shot
over the spillway. For moments, it seemed to hang in mid-air.Then it
hit the water below with a bone-jarring smack. "We made it!" Biff cried jubilantly, turning to look back at Chuba. Chuba had disappeared. He had been thrown out of the boat as it leaped
over the falls.Biff spotted his friend's head in the water twenty feet
this side of the falls. "Have a good swim, Chuba," Biff shouted gaily. "I'll wait for you." Biff
reset the oars and leaned them on his knees. "Hey, chum, not so much
splash--" Biff's happy call faded out. Chuba was floundering in the
water. His arms stopped thrashing and his head went out of sight. Then
it bobbed into view, only to sink a second time.With a start, Biff realized that Chuba couldn't swim. CHAPTER XIII
The First Clue
Jack Hudson looked up from his desk as Muscles, the powerful mechanic,
came in.For a few moments the two men stared at one another, saying
nothing. Muscles, hands on hips, broad shoulders squared, chest thrust
out, looked like an angry bull about to charge. "Okay, Muscles, let's have it," Jack said. "About those kids.What are we going to do?" "I wish I knew. We've got to do something." "You're darn tootin' we have," Muscles bellowed. "I'm sick and tired of
just sitting around here, waiting. We got to act." "Take it easy, Muscles.I've been thinking about it as much as you
have." "Now look, Jack. Charlie Keene's been gone almost a month. The kids
nearly two weeks." "I know. I know. But what can we do? You know what it means to go in
after them. ""You think you know where they are?" Jack nodded his head. "I've got a pretty good idea where the boys are
heading. I just hope Charlie's in the same general area. I just hope
they're not all scattered over the face of China. ""What bugs me most is Biff being spotted by now. An American kid among
all those Chinese--bound to be!" "I don't think so, Muscles. Biff and Chuba worked out a disguise that
made Biff look more like a Chinese than Chuba does.Biff not only fooled
me, but fooled Ti Pao as well." "He fooled Chuba's father? That's really something." Jack nodded his head. "Yeah. Both of those kids are plenty smart. I
think they'll make it in.They might even get a line on Charlie's
whereabouts. But getting back out--" Jack shook his head soberly. "That's where we get into the act," Muscles said quickly. "Look, I got
the Cessna tuned up so she's purring like a kitten.Extra fuel tanks
installed. We can go in, pick up Charlie and the kids--"
"_If_ we could find them." "We can find them. Look, here's my idea. We go in together. At night. You drop me.I locate Charlie and the kids, then I make a signal on the
shortwave transmitter, and bang, you come, pick us up, and all's well." Jack didn't answer at once. He was considering Muscles' idea. "You make
it sound so easy. But I don't know.Give me a little time to think it
over." "We can take off at dusk tonight." "I haven't said we would yet, Muscles. I'll let you know." Muscles glowered at Jack and pounded one huge fist into the palm of his
other hamlike hand. Biff didn't hesitate.This was real trouble. If he didn't get to his
friend at once, Chuba might go under for good. Finding him beneath the
surface of the muddy river would be impossible. Biff's body split the
air as he dived toward the sinking Chuba.Powerful strokes of his arms
pulled Biff swiftly through the water. He reached Chuba. "Take it easy. Take it easy, Chuba. I've got you. You'll be all right. Don't fight me." Biff crooked his left arm around Chuba's neck. "Just lie on your back, Chuba.I'll do the rest." At Biff's words Chuba stopped thrashing. He forced himself to relax,
buoyed both in body and spirit by the firmness of Biff's arm. Slowly, with a one-armed backstroke, Biff towed the native boy toward
the shore.The current slackened below the falls, making Biff's task
possible. Foot by foot, Biff propelled himself and Chuba toward the
riverbank. At long last, he felt one of his kicking feet touch bottom. "Okay, Chuba. I think you can stand up here. Try it. "Chuba's feet touched bottom. The two boys staggered through the shallow
water to safety. Chuba stretched out on the bank, gasping and trembling. "You save my life, Biff. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
How can Chuba ever thank you?" "Skip the thanks, Chuba.You've done plenty for me. And I know you'll do
plenty more. But how come you never learned to swim?" "Not many Chinese boys swim. Not in rivers where I grow up. Crocodiles." "I get it. Too dangerous." Chuba nodded his head. "Look, Chuba.You rest here. I've got to get the boat. All our supplies
are in it." Biff jumped up and ran along the bank downstream. The boat was drifting
slowly, lazily toward the bank. Biff plunged back into the water.He
reached the boat, pulled himself in over the side, and rowed to shore. Chuba had moved down the bank, and waded out to grab the boat's bow. He
pulled it up on the bank. Half an hour later the boys reembarked.For the rest of the day they
traveled in smooth water. By dark, they reached Sundhiango, last stop of
their river voyage. From Sundhiango they headed northwest, toward the foothills of Mt. Minya
Konka, west of Chungking and Chengtu.Once clear of the river city, the
boys moved along a dirt road until weariness overtook them. Off the
road, they built a small fire, ate a mixture of flour and rice Chuba
dreamed up, and then slept. In the morning, Chuba inspected Biff carefully. "What's the matter?" Biff demanded. "You almost America boy again. More like fish called carp, though. All
streaky." "What do you mean?" "Your swims in river. Make betel juice fade. You look at self. We got to
make you Chinese beggar boy again. "Chuba took out his bottle of juice, and smeared Biff's body and face. "Now, all good again. We move out." "And up," Biff said, looking toward the mountains. By late afternoon, Biff and Chuba reached a town in the foothills.They
had been climbing steadily all day. Several times Biff had to swallow to
clear the pressure in his ears, brought on by the higher altitude. "You have some money, Biff?" Chuba asked. "Yep. Got a bunch of Burmese rupees.Can you spend them in China?" "Spend them like you say like water. Rupees much good. Better than
Chinese money. Chinese money now called _jin min piao_. Takes many
_jins_ to make one rupee." Biff dug into his bundle and brought out several coins. "This enough?" "Is plenty. We go into town to market. Chuba buy some food. You like
dried fish? Lichee nuts good, too." "Ugh. I'd rather have a hot dog." "Ah, hot dog?" Chuba nodded wisely. "Muscles tell me in America you eat
the dogs but like them hot." "By the millions, Chuba. Especially at baseball games. But not the kind
that bark." "Not real dogs?" "Nope. These are sort of like a sausage--shaped like sausage. You know
sausage? "Chuba nodded his head. "Oh sure, stuffed with rice, shark fins, and
sesame seeds, is real tasty." Biff shrugged. Might as well give up. Chuba would just have to eat a genuine frankfurter some day. The boys walked on to the edge of the town.Biff stopped before they
passed through the gate. "Hold it a minute, Chuba. Something I want to
ask you." Biff had decided to make the first move toward locating his Uncle
Charlie. He considered showing Chuba the green ring.Should he do so
now, or hold on to it for an ace in the hole, for a time when the ring
might be the means of getting them out of a really tough jam. He'd wait. "What you want to ask Chuba? ""I want to know if you ever heard of a big and well-known Chinese
family. It was called the House of Kwang." Biff studied the native boy's
face. "Sure. Chuba hear about them. Once they rich. Big rich. Own many, many
acres for wheat fields.Many many acres for rice. They own big grain
sheds where other people bring wheat and rice to sell them for to store
it. But now no more rice. Not rich and powerful any more. Revolution and
new government get rid of all big landowners. ""Did the House of Kwang have any property, any acres around here?" "No own acres here. But once they own big warehouse, like I say, for to
buy and sell wheat and rice and all kinds clothes and things." "Here in this town?" Chuba nodded his head. "Well, look, Chuba. I think maybe my Uncle Charlie came into this part
of China because of something he had to do with the House of Kwang. I
don't know exactly what. Do you think any members of that family would
be around here? "Chuba thought about Biff's question. "I don't know, Biff. But can find
out. Although family no longer strong and rich, Chuba has heard they
still stick close together. Help each other out.If one member of family
get in bad with government bosses, others get him out if he put in
prison." "Okay. That's what I wanted to know from you. When we get to the market,
think you could ask some questions without giving us away?I mean
without letting the people you ask know that we're in here looking for
Uncle Charlie?" "Think so, Biff. I ask if anyone hear about big bird--American bird with
much roaring noise. Lots people in this part of China still call
airplane big bird. ""If you find anyone who seems to have the kind of information we're
looking for, see if there's any talk about a plane cracking up around
here. I feel sure Uncle Charlie would have come back long ago if there
weren't something wrong with his plane. ""You trust Chuba, Biff. He find out everythings." The boys passed the gate of the walled town. This town was the largest
one they had yet gone through. The dirty streets again were filled with
people milling back and forth.Children stared at them wide-eyed and
curious. Dogs darted in and out, looking for scraps of food. Pigs roamed
the streets, paying no more attention to the people than the people did
to them. Biff could tell they were nearing the market place.His nose knew. Inside the market, an open-air market filling one long block, the boys
passed booths selling everything from hot soups to shiny silks. Strings
of garlic hung on racks in all the food booths.The Chinese chew garlic
the way Americans chew gum. Small cakes made of chopped vegetables and
fruits were piled high on trays. There were fried peanuts and
sugar-covered orange peels. Strings of dried fish swung in the air.Smoked ducks were suspended by their necks from long, slender bamboo
rods. Chuba made several purchases. Biff, having to remain silent, was unable
to protest against some of the foods Chuba added to his cloth sack.But
he knew he'd have to be mighty hungry to eat them. At one booth, where Chuba made several purchases, the native boy had a
long talk with the owner.During the conversation, Chuba once extended
his arms straight from his sides, and gave out with a sound like an
airplane engine, an engine that sputtered. The Chinese only shook his head. The boys walked along. "I think he know something, but no tell me,"
Chuba said quietly. "When first I ask about big bird, a look on his face
tell me he has heard of something. But when I ask more, and become
airplane myself, he say no, he hear of nothing.I ask more people." Biff tagged along, silent, watchful, amazed at many of the strange
things sold in the market. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
He saw a goose egg and watched a shopper
haggle with the owner over its price.Later, Chuba told him the egg was
four years old and uncooked. "Most delicious," Chuba said. Biff shuddered. Every store sold dried watermelon seeds. Chuba bought some, gave a
handful to Biff.Biff chewed on them, but found little taste to the
small morsel inside the shell. It had become dark. Flares lighted the market place. Chuba turned to
Biff, a discouraged look on his face. "Buying things fine. Finding out
about Sahib Charlie not fine.Chuba learn nothing." The boys retraced their steps back to the city gates. Again they were
going to sleep in the open. Biff much preferred this to sleeping on the
floor of an airless room.Just as they passed through the gate, a figure came out of the shadows. He touched Chuba on the arm and in a hissing whisper, spoke into the
boy's ear. "Man say for me to come back with him. Maybe can help me. Say I must
come alone.You stay right here, Biff. Chuba be all right. Be back
quick." Chuba and the stranger headed back toward the market. But Chuba didn't come back quickly. The minutes seemed to drag along. Biff was becoming worried.He had just about made up his mind to seek
Chuba out when he saw his friend running toward him. Chuba was breathless, more from excitement than from his short run. "Chuba has news. Big news. Man takes me back to another fellow.This
other fellow much wise. Say he hear big American plane make force
landing. Near mountains. Maybe fifty miles from here." "Did he tell you how long ago, Chuba?" Chuba nodded his head up and down rapidly. "He say maybe three, maybe
four weeks ago.""Hey. That _is_ good news. That could be Uncle Charlie. Did he know what
happened to the pilot? Was he hurt?" "I ask that. But fellow say he don't know." Biff was thoughtful for a few moments. "It's a good lead, Chuba. You
know which way to go?""Sure. Fellow tell Chuba." "Seems to me this fellow told you a lot. I wonder why. Particularly
since no one else seemed to know what you were talking about." "I don't know, Biff. Fellow very nice. But funny-looking fellow. ""What do you mean, funny looking?" "One eye closed like door. No see out of it. Fellow have only one good
eye." Biff's thoughts raced back to the Chinese passenger on the plane from
Indianapolis to Chicago--a Chinese with a drooping eyelid.CHAPTER XIV
The Circling Plane
The next day, in a small village of only a few mud and thatched houses,
Chuba continued his inquiries.This time, the second man he asked told
of having heard of a big bird "roar like the thunders of heaven." It had
been seen coming down in the mountains.In mid-afternoon of the second day after leaving the market town, Chuba
came up with more definite information. He was told that a flying man
had come down in the foothills near a police outpost called Jaraminka.Chuba was elated by the news that now seemed to be coming to them so
easily. "Too easily," Biff said. "How you mean, Biff?" "I'm not sure, Chuba. But it seems strange to me that everyone seems to
be helping us along.It's as if we're being guided to this certain
place." "That is not good?" Biff shook his head. "It's too good. It could be a trap. I'm pretty sure
now that someone has spotted me, or at least, knows I'm in this part of
China. ""How could they know that? You look like Chinese boy, not like American
Biff Brewster." Biff didn't reply at once. He was thinking.He was thinking that by
asking questions about the House of Kwang, about a downed flyer,
someone's curiosity had been aroused. Someone was very interested in his
search for Charles Keene.Otherwise, how had it been so easy to get the
information Chuba had been given? Biff also felt sure that the person, or persons, responsible for feeding
Chuba directional information must know that it was he, Biff Brewster,
who was in China.He couldn't drive from his mind the picture of the
Chinese with the drooping eyelid. Chuba's description of the man with
one eye fitted too closely. "Chuba, I think we're definitely being led into a trap.Someone is
leading us to the place where my uncle is. It may be friends. It may be
members of the House of Kwang. But, it also may be enemies of my uncle. They may be holding my uncle prisoner, and want to capture me, too.Don't ask me why, I don't know all the answers. But I've got a hunch." "If we being led into trap like poor little goat into dragon's mouth,
maybe we better stop. Maybe go different way. Maybe better give
Jaraminka the by-go," Chuba suggested.Biff smiled. "No, we won't give Jaraminka the 'go-by.' We'll let
ourselves be led into--or up to the trap. It's our only chance of
finding my uncle. We don't have any other leads.But maybe we can get
right up to the trap and avoid having it sprung on us." The boys climbed a narrowing mountain trail higher into the foothills. Nightfall found them in a wild, desolate spot. No lights could be seen
in any direction they looked.At the altitude they had reached, a chill
came with the night air. Chuba hurried about searching for dried, dead wood. He heaped up a large
pile. "Think it's safe to build a fire?" Biff asked. "Sure. Much safe. Better to have fire and be warm.Better also to have
fire to keep mountain bears and wild pigs away. Anyway, who want to
catch two boys?" "I don't know, Chuba. I don't know," Biff replied.The fire was soon blazing, sending out its friendly warmth and
brightening the wild spot where the boys had decided to pitch their
camp.Chuba had water boiling in a small can, ready for the rice which
had become their nightly meal--rice, with some of the strange foods
Chuba had purchased stirred in it. "Chow, Biff. We eat. I way out hungry, man. "Chuba started ladling out the steaming dish. "Hold it a minute, Chuba. Hear anything?" Chuba raised his head. Both boys tensed. From far away, to the south,
there came a low hum, not much louder than the buzz of a bee.As the
boys listened, the hum grew louder and more distinct. A minute passed. There was no mistaking the sound now. "It's a plane, Chuba! A plane!" "Maybe Sahib Charlie," Chuba shouted. "Look! Look!" Biff was on his feet, pointing.Now the plane was in sight
against the darkening sky. It was coming low. Its green starboard wing
light and red port wing light were flashing alternately on and off, on
and off.The plane seemed to be coming directly at them, as if attracted
moth-like to their bright fire. It swooped over the boys, so low they
both involuntarily ducked.Then the plane circled, roared back over
them, and then disappeared over a low ridge to the west. The sound of
its twin engines died away. "I'd bet you anything that was a Cessna.Like the job that brought me to
Unhao from Rangoon," Biff said, his voice filled with excitement. "You mean like plane that Muscles fix for sahibs back at camp?" "That's right, Chuba. Can't be sure, though." "Maybe was scouting plane of army.Maybe was spying on us," Chuba said. Biff's spirits sank. Chuba could be right. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
"Think we better get out of here then? Find another place and hide?" "Might be good idea, Biff. Hate to leave nice warm fire, though. ""And I'd hate to leave just in case that was a plane from Unhao, looking
for us. Or, as you said, it just could be Uncle Charlie." The boys sat down by the fire. Biff ate his food slowly. The minutes
became an hour. Another hour passed.Chuba had curled up in his long
cloak, and was sound asleep. Biff looked at the sleeping boy, and felt a
yawn stretching over his face. He stirred the fire, pulled his long cloak firmly about him, and curled
up too.He didn't think he could sleep--his mind was too filled with
thoughts about the plane. But Biff's resistance to sleep was mostly in
his mind, not in his body. Tired--he always seemed tired these days--he
dropped off to sleep in seconds.How long he slept, Biff didn't know. But he did know that something had
awakened him. He opened his eyes. He listened. He thought he heard a
sound just behind a nearby stunted tree. "Chuba." He poked his companion. "Chuba, wake up. "Chuba stirred, rolled over, and opened his eyes to look into Biff's
face. "What is it, Biff?" "I think somebody's watching us. From just outside the ring of the
fire's light." Both boys remained silent. Nothing happened. Then the sound came again.Someone, or something, was certainly watching them. Biff could hear his
own heart beat. He looked in the direction of the sound. A huge figure
stepped from behind the tree. As it walked toward the fire, its dancing
shadow became that of a giant. "Well, fancy meeting you here!" the giant said. "Muscles!" The boys jumped to their feet. The giant mechanic, a big grin splitting
his face, strode up to the fire. Biff and Chuba leaped on him, pounding
him on the back. "Easy boys. Easy.I'm footsore and bone-tired from walking over these
here mountains. Never had anything like them back in good old Kentucky." "How'd you get here? Was that your plane? Who was flying it? Where'd you
land? Is my uncle safe? "Biff's questions shot out in a rapid-fire
burst. "Easy, Biff. Easy. One at a time. Now I'll try to answer your quiz
program. No word from your uncle. Yep, that was me in that plane that
flew over here a coupla hours ago. Jack Hudson was flying her.We
touched down just long enough for me to hop out. Jack's almost back to
Unhao by now. Now how 'bout a spot of China tea? I'm tired and hungry." "Me fix, Muscles. Right away. Chop. Chop." Chuba got busy. More wood
went on the fire.Out came the all-purpose can, this time to boil water
for Muscles' tea. "Now what about you two? Give me a fill-in." Biff quickly sketched the happenings since he and Chuba had slipped out
of the camp at Unhao. "So you think someone's spotted you? "Muscles asked. "I'm sure of it. Someone sure knows Uncle Charlie's being looked for. We've been getting more information than they hand out at Grand Central
Station in New York. ""And you've been told that a plane came down near a place called
Jaraminka." Biff nodded his head. "How far is that place from here?" "Not far," Chuba replied. "Maybe a day's walk. If we start early in
morning.... Here's your tea. "Muscles took the hot liquid. "Well then, Jaraminka, here we come." As Muscles sipped his tea, he told the boys about landing on a cleared,
level plateau over a ridge of the Thanglung foothills to the west. "Not too far from here," Muscles looked at his watch. "Took me about two
hours to walk back to this fire we spotted from the air. We couldn't be
sure, of course, but we hoped it would be you boys.I guess I must have
walked almost straight up and down farther than I walked straight ahead
to get here." "And Jack went back?" Biff asked. "Yep. But we've got it all fixed. When we find Charlie, we're to make
our way back to that plateau.I've got a portable transmitter with me. When we get there, I make a signal. Jack flies in, and it's back to
Unhao we go." Muscles made it sound so simple. Biff felt good as he listened to the
big man talk so confidently.But there were lots of "ifs"--if they found
Charles Keene, if they got back to the plateau, if the signal was heard
on time, if Jack could come back in. Biff shook his head. It was good to
have big Muscles with them, though.In any trouble, Muscles had a lot of
weight to throw around. "Now suppose we catch some more of that stuff called shut-eye--sleep to
you, Chuba, and be up and at 'em early in the ayem." "Chuba catch plenty eye-shut, Sahib Muscles.Tomorrow going to be big
days." Eye-shut! The two words reminded Biff of the Chinese with the drooping
eyelid. The two boys and the man stretched out by the fire and slept. At
daybreak, Muscles stirred. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up."Hey!" he exclaimed. "Looks like we've got visitors." Biff and Chuba sat up quickly. Standing silently, forming a ring
surrounding the three and the dying embers of the fire, were eight of
the fiercest looking men Biff had ever seen.CHAPTER XV
Bandits! Biff shot a quick look at Chuba. He wanted to see his friend's reaction
to the startling appearance of these men who looked as if they had
sprung from the age of primitive man. Good? Bad?Chuba would know. Chuba's eyes roved over the group. He turned his head quickly from man
to man, turning around to complete the circle. A frown on the native
boy's face gave Biff his answer. Chuba was worried. "Man, oh, man!Did you ever see anything like that bunch?" Muscles
asked. "They're from way out of nowhere." There was every reason for Muscles to be amazed. The men were small but
squat and powerfully built.Their eyes were slanted in broad, dirty
faces, the color of stained copper. Wide, cruel mouths turned down on
either side. Scraggly strands of wiry hair sprouted from ragged caps
made of mangy fur. Their legs were wrapped in rags.Coats, if they could be called coats,
were made of skins of wild animals, mountain goats, deer. One of the men
wore the skin of the Himalayan black bear.They stood in silence, their small, beady eyes watching for any move on
the part of Muscles and the boys. Two of the men held short, thick clubs
in their hands. Another held a long stick.Biff noticed that on the end
a wicked knife had been attached by thongs. Others held long, gleaming
curved knives in their hands. Only one man carried a gun, a short, two
barreled shotgun. It was an old gun. Someone had sawed off the barrel.It could deal out body-ripping shots at short range. "Who are they, Chuba?" Biff asked. "You mean _what_ are they?" Muscles cut in. "Bandits. Chinese bandits," Chuba replied. "They bad. Very bad." "They're not soldiers, then.Not members of any patrol?" Chuba shook his head. "No. Much worse. These people roam the hills and
mountains. They steal, kill. They like wild men. Sometimes come into
town, but most times, live like tribe, sleep in caves, eat anything they
can kill. ""What do they want with us?" Biff asked. "Rob us. Maybe kill us if we try to fight." "Huh. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Some chance," Muscles cut in again. "Why, I can take on that whole
gang single-handed." Muscles towered over the bandits.He was bigger,
and weighed more than any two of the bandits together. "Not so sure, Muscles," Chuba said quietly. "These men fight and kill
bears, tigers. Only use their knives. ""Only guy that worries me is that one with the sawed-off shotgun,"
Muscles decided. "Why don't they say something, Chuba? What are they waiting for?" Biff
asked. Chuba shrugged his shoulders. "Can't they talk? Can you understand their language? ""They talk, sure. But be hard for Chuba to understand them. They speak
what you call tribe dialect. Some Chinese words. Some words only they
know." "Can they understand you?" "Sure. They understand most Chinese talk. Not all words. But enough. ""Ask them what they want." Chuba swallowed. He directed a rapid string of Chinese words at the man
carrying the gun. The gun carrier grunted and spoke in a deep, guttural voice to the man
beside him. "Did you get that, Chuba?" Chuba shook his head.The gun carrier took one step forward. He looked Muscles carefully up
and down. Next his eyes swept over Biff. Then he spoke, turning his eyes
on Chuba. He spoke slowly. Sometimes moments of silence would appear
between his spaced words. "He says they want all things we have. Gun man speaker says he wants
clothes of the giant man." "My clothes! Fat chance," Muscles snarled. The bandit spoke again. "He says open up bundles. He wants to see what we have." Biff knelt down.His and Chuba's bulky bundles were together. Biff
started untying the nearest one, which happened to be Chuba's. "If we give them our things, will they let us alone?" Biff asked. "Chuba can't say. Maybe so so. Maybe no. Maybe they give us this. "Chuba
brought his hand swiftly across his throat. Biff felt a sickening
sensation in his stomach. Feeling around in Chuba's bundle, Biff's hand struck an oblong object. It felt like a box.Biff carefully lifted the cloth from which the
bundle was made. He raised it so that the bandits would be unable to see
what the box was. If the situation hadn't been such a dangerous one,
Biff would have laughed.Chuba had brought with him his Evil Spirit
Box--the one Muscles had frightened Chuba with the first morning Biff
was in camp. Touching the box, an idea came into Biff's head. "Chuba, quick! Tell me more about these bandits. Are they superstitious?I mean, frightened by strange things, things they've never seen before?" "Much afraid. Big fear of spirits." Biff nodded his head. "I've got an idea. Think we could scare them with
your Evil Spirit Box?" Excitement danced in Chuba's eyes. "They be scared like crazy. More
scared than Chuba was." "Okay. We'll try it. Now you tell them something like this. Tell them we
are protected by magic of the gods. The evil spirit will put its hand on
them unless they let us go.They are not to bother us. Make it good. Bow
down and stuff like that. Look to the sky and make like you're calling
the spirit." "Chuba catch wise. Make big show." "Okay.Now, at some point when you're putting on your act, when the
bandits are all looking at you, I'll yell 'Fly!' When I do, I'll toss
your spirit box into the air. You swing around and catch it. I'll have
it started.You hold it up high when the siren's going. Then place it on
the ground and jump back when the hand comes out. Tell them that's the
hand of the evil spirit, reaching out to touch them." Chuba was grinning now.Muscles stood there, hands on hips, shaking his
head. Chuba turned back to the bandit leader. He hunched up his
shoulders. He twisted his face into an ugly leer. Then he began
speaking. He spoke at first in a sing-song voice.He spoke faster and
faster, raising his voice higher. He dropped down and touched the ground
three times with his head. Up he leaped, extending his arms skyward. Chuba was putting on a good show. Biff watched the faces of the bandits
closely.There was no expression, yet their eyes followed every movement
Chuba made. Biff took the spirit box out. No one saw him. Even Muscles was
fascinated by Chuba's writhing, his sing-song chanting. Biff touched the
button activating the box. "Fly! "he called out. He tossed the box in the air, high enough so that
as it came down over Chuba's head, it almost appeared to be falling from
the sky. Chuba caught the box deftly. Again he spoke to the bandits.He raised
the box high over his head, just as the first faint whine of the siren
began. The siren's scream rose higher and higher. Quickly Chuba placed
the box on the ground and stepped back. The lid of the box slowly
opened.Biff looked again at the bandits. The faces without expression now
looked curious, then terrified. The lid of the box raised. The plastic hand snaked out. Stark terror now seized the bandits. They cringed back.One of them,
unable to stand it any longer, turned, broke, and ran. He was followed
by another and another. Only the leader remained, staring at the spirit
box as if spellbound. Muscles went into action. He dived for the box.He snatched it from the
ground, turned, and with the box extended in his outstretched hands, he
moved toward the bandit chief. This was too much. With a horrified
shriek, the bandit chief turned and raced down the slope after his
companions.All were running as if they were really pursued by demons. Muscles quickly reset the box, so that the scream of the siren, rising
to its highest pitch, seemed to be following close to the bandits' ears. Muscles put the box back on the ground.He slapped his huge thighs,
threw back his head, and roared with laughter. Biff and Chuba joined
him. All three laughed until they sank to the ground, their voices
shaking as they tried to talk.Finally, Muscles heaved his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Ever see
anything like that? Those guys were really scared. Took off like jet
fighters.When I think that I sent to the States for that fool toy to
scare Chuba, well...."
"Never knew it was going to save your life, did you? Still think twenty
dollars was too much for it?" Biff said, trying to control his laughter. "I level with you now, Muscles. I real scared first time I see spirit
box," Chuba confessed. "But those guys! They really did think the Evil Spirit was going to put
the hand on them," Muscles said. "Here's one time I'm glad you can't tell good from evil," Biff said. "Think they'll come back, Chuba?" Muscles asked. "Never. They really gone. Give us the big go-round now. Not ever want to
see us and box again. ""The spirit really moved them, eh, Biff?" Muscles said. Biff laughed, but Muscles' joke was over Chuba's head. It was almost broad daylight now. The sun was rising. Biff stood up. "We'd better get going. Maybe we can reach Jaraminka by nightfall. ""Okay by me," Muscles agreed. "Let's make with the feet, Chuba." Biff looked northward. Nestled somewhere in the foothills of the
Thanglung mountains was the outpost of Jaraminka. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Uncle Charlie might be
there.He might be the bait being used to bring Biff and his companions
into a trap. It was a risk they would have to take. CHAPTER XVI
Strange Discovery
In the distance, perhaps a hundred miles away, the towering peak of Mt.Minya Konka, reaching 25,000 feet skyward, could be seen. The day was
clear, crystal-blue clear. The air was chill and would remain so until
the sun's rays bore down more strongly. "You better take the lead, Chuba," Muscles said. "Off we go, searching
for Ja-ra-mink-a." He sang his last sentence to the tune of the Air
Force song, "Into the Wild Blue Yonder." "Hold it a minute," Biff said. "You know, if we head straight for
Jaraminka, we might be walking right into the hands of the enemy. Wouldn't they expect us to take the most direct route?" "You got something there, Biff, m'boy. What're you cooking?" Muscles
asked. "I think we should head west, west northwest, rather than due north. Head for Minya Konka. Then, when we've gone further inland, cut back
north and make our approach to Jaraminka from the west." "Good idea, Biff. Let's move out. "The three trudged westward, climbing, climbing. Big, craggy rocks dotted
the sides of the slopes they scrambled up. Often they had to make wide
detours to get around a cliff that rose straight up.After two hours of scrambling, slipping, struggling against the rugged
terrain, Muscles called a halt. "We'd better take a break." The rarefied air of the altitude had all
three panting for breath.At Muscles' words, Biff and Chuba sank to the
ground without a word. Muscles flung himself to the ground beside them. Slowly their breathing became more even, strength flowed back into their
bodies. Muscles sat up, pulled out a cigarette.He lit it, took three deep puffs
and tossed it away. "Burns my lungs at this altitude. How far you figure we've gone, kids?" "Like you said last night. If we measure the ups and downs, then we've
covered quite a distance.But I doubt if we've covered more than five
miles straight away," Biff answered, and Chuba nodded in agreement. "That plateau where Jack landed me must be just a short distance south
of here.I'm making landmarks so we can spot the place when we come
back," Muscles explained. Biff looked the area over carefully, too. Two peaks rose straight up,
miles apart. A smaller peak was centered exactly between the two taller
ones. "Just like the letter 'W,'" Biff said to himself. He would remember
that. "Think we better turn north now, Biff?" Muscles said. "Be lot easier
traveling. Faster, too. We'll be moving along the valley. Not so much of
this up and down stuff.Particularly the up. I've had enough of that. I'll take my climbing in a plane." "I guess so, Muscles. We'll head up the valley, now, Chuba," Biff
directed. They set off again. Traveling was easier. They moved along briskly.The
air was becoming warmer, and soon the floor of the valley sent up
shimmering heat waves in front of them. Except for brief pauses, no one called for a break until Muscles looked
at his watch. "It's noon. How about a breather and something to eat? "Chuba broke out his supply of food--his "goodies," Biff had named them. "This is food?" Muscles asked skeptically, looking at the portion Chuba
handed him. He ate it, but his face twisted comically as he tasted and
then quickly gulped the food.After a half-hour rest, during which Muscles complained bitterly about
the menu, they were ready to continue. Their progress up the valley
continued smoothly for the first hour. Rounding a sharp bend, the valley
came to an abrupt end. "Now what's this little obstacle placed in our path?" Muscles asked. "Wish it were just a _little_ obstacle," Biff replied. Directly ahead of
them, the ground angled sharply upward.Above, it leveled off like the
outside rim of a giant football stadium. "We go right or we go left, Chuba?" Muscles asked. "We'll go straight up," Biff replied. "Let's see what's on top. Surely
can't tell from here.After we take a look-see, we'll probably bear to
the right. Jaraminka must be off that way." Biff pointed slightly to the
northeast. "Think so, Chuba?" Chuba nodded his head. They mounted toward the rim at the top of the sharp incline.In places,
the ground rose so sharply they had to pull themselves up, grabbing the
stunted trees for handholds. Nearing the top, they ran into a barrier that stopped them cold.This
was a man-made obstacle, the last thing to expect in this wild, remote
country. It was a heavy, metal-barred fence. It stood higher than
Muscles' head, and three strands of ugly barbed wire were stretched
along the top. "What the--" Muscles' eyes bugged out in astonishment. The fence stretched out to the right and left in a long curve. The
ground was cleared on both sides of the fence, forming a path easy to
walk along. "This we have to find out about," Biff said. "Why fence in a mountain
top unless there's something inside that's top secret?" "That fence could be electrified. Stay clear of it," Muscles warned. "Could be," Biff said, "but I doubt it. It would take a lot of power to
do it.Besides, where would the power come from? Let's follow it, to the
right. But be alert. Good fences don't mean good neighbors here. I've a
hunch these good fences mean good guards every few feet. "They followed the curving fence cautiously and on the alert. Biff took
the lead. They continued until Biff figured they had covered ninety
degrees of a gigantic circle.The fence remained an equal distance from
the rim at the top as they followed the path. "Hold it!" Biff held up his hand. Then he motioned Muscles and Chuba
forward. "Look," Biff pointed to a gap, wide enough and deep enough for a man's
body to slip beneath the fence. "Some animal must have been as curious as we are," Biff said. "Something
burrowed under the fence." "Well, what are we waiting for? "Muscles grinned. He dropped to his
hands and knees and wiggled through the opening. Chuba followed, and
Biff brought up the rear. Crouching low, the three approached the top of the rise.They crawled
the last few feet, reached the rim, and raised their heads slowly. What
they saw made them all gasp. They were looking into an immense bowl, covering an area so great it was
impossible to take it in with one look.They pivoted their heads,
following the rim of the bowl. The activity on the floor of the bowl made them squint their eyes in
disbelief. Everywhere they looked they saw bulldozers, huge cranes,
steam shovels, and thousands of men working furiously.The bottom of the
bowl was so far away that the working men seemed like small moving
specks.The noises of the steam shovels digging into the earth and the
whines of the huge crane arms turning on their metal discs rose only
dimly to the ears of the astonished spectators.Toward the opposite side of the huge bowl, two cement runways in the
shape of a plus sign were dotted with planes. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
In still another section of the bowl, great steel trylons, resembling
oversized high-tension wire supporters, reared skyward. "What do you make of it?" Biff asked Muscles. The burly mechanic scratched his head. "You got me. Could be a lot of
things. It's got to be something mighty important, something really top
secret to build this gigantic complex in this remote spot.And how did
they get all this stuff in here?" Muscles asked himself. "I think," Biff said, "we'd better get _away_ from here--but fast." Muscles nodded in agreement.The three backed down, reached the fence,
scrambled beneath it, and headed for Jaraminka. Making as much speed as they could, they put distance between themselves
and their startling discovery. Biff's mind was filled with questions.Foremost among them was one which kept coming back like an exam question
he couldn't answer. Did this tremendous, secret construction job have anything to do with
Uncle Charlie's flight into China?CHAPTER XVII
A Red Hot Lead
Night overtook Biff, Chuba, and Muscles before they reached Jaraminka. All were tired. The going in the dark was rough. But Biff was determined
to reach the town before they halted. "Another hour," Biff said, "and if we haven't gotten there, we'll hole
in for the night." "Okay by me," Muscles answered. Chuba nodded his head. They didn't have to go for the full hour.Following a narrow path, no
more than a rough goat trail, they rounded the side of a high pointed
hill. From far below their dangerous perch on the hillside, they saw
lights. Hundreds of lights, flickering like candles in a breeze.It was
a beautiful sight to come upon suddenly in the night. "Jaraminka," Biff said, and looked at Chuba for confirmation. "You right, Biff. That Jaraminka." "It's a lot bigger place than I thought it would be," Muscles put in. "It's in center of big, wide valley. Much good farm lands. Many rich
peoples once live here. Is nice in summer. Not too hot." "How about the House of Kwang, Chuba? They have any properties around
Jaraminka? ""Oh yes, Biff, always in summer time Old Lord and family go to
Jaraminka. Old Lord have big place here. His big house still here, but
Old Lord not own it any more." "Chinese Commies run him out?" Muscles asked. "You right, Muscles. They take over.Now this place big, important
outpost for Chinese Army." Why would the Chinese Army have a large installation in such a wild,
remote section of their big, sprawling country? The answer came to Biff
immediately.That big, fenced-in construction job was not more than ten
miles away. That had to be the reason. Just what was being built,
though, still puzzled the boy. "We'll bed down here for the night," Biff said, "and go into the town
early in the morning. ""Real early, Biff," Chuba said. "Soon as sun start rising, farmers go
into town to market place. Bring things from farm to sell. We go in with
them. People think we farmers, too." "How about me?" Muscles asked. "I don't look like a Chinese farmer. "Biff laughed. "Anything but." "You have to stay here. Guard our camp. We go into town, find out
things." "Okay by me. But say--be sure and leave me my pal." "Your pal?" Biff asked. "Yeah. My pal of protection--the spirit box. "They all laughed, turned in and slept. Early in the gray of morning, Biff and Chuba were on the outskirts of
the village. A stream of solemn-faced farmers passed through the city's
gate.Chuba and Biff attached themselves to the parade and entered
unnoticed. Biff had reached a decision. If any member of the House of Kwang could
be located, he felt now would be the time to use the green ring. Keeping
his voice low, he spoke to Chuba. "Don't ask any more questions about Uncle Charlie. But find out, if you
can, if there are any members of the Kwang family around here." "I catch, Biff. If any Kwangs around, Chuba will locate them." The boys wandered through the sprawling city.They made for the market
place, always the center of the most activity. Going from stall to
stall, Chuba made his inquiries. He told the persons he questioned that
once he and his father had served the House of Kwang.Now, he said, in a
sad, tearful voice, he was only a beggar boy. If he could only find one
of the young lords perhaps the lord would remember his father, and give
Chuba a helping hand. At mid-morning, Chuba hit pay dirt.He engaged in a long conversation
with a young, slender Chinese. This Chinese was different from the
broad-faced farmers, the stall-keepers, the uniformed soldiers who
thronged the market place.His facial features were fine, his clothing
cleaner and richer than that of those surrounding him. Biff watched Chuba anxiously. He saw his friend bob his head up and down
in agreement, then the two parted.Chuba rejoined Biff, motioned to him to follow, and Chuba led the way
back to the gates of the city. Once outside, Chuba told Biff of his
conversation. "This man I talk to. His name Chan Li. Once he young lord of house like
House of Kwang. Not so big.Not so rich. But House of Li and House of
Kwang good friends. House of Li taken over just like House of Kwang. He
hate government bosses." Biff felt himself becoming excited. This could be the lead they had been
searching for. "Did you ask him if any members of the House of Kwang were still in
Jaraminka?" "Chuba did. Chan Li say yes. He say he know many things. But he say he
must be very careful.Cannot take us to where Kwang family in hide-out
unless we have proof we friends, not enemies, or police spies." Biff's hand went inside his cloak. He felt for the ring. This was it. The ring would bring the good fortune it promised. "What's our next move?" "We go back to where Muscles hiding. Then, when sun stands straight up
in sky over our heads, we meet with Chan Li." "Where? Back in the city?" "Oh, no. Too much risky.Remember, on our way down to city, we come to
little brook fed by spring?" Biff nodded his head. "We meet there. Come, we tell Muscles." Back with Muscles, the three held a council. Their plans depended on
what they would learn from Chan Li.But how could Muscles be kept
informed? It wouldn't do for him to attend the meeting. "Maybe I could be there but not be seen," Muscles said. "Any cover near
the spring where I could hide? Maybe I could overhear what this Li
character has to offer. ""I think so, Muscles. Come, we go down now and see. Not too long before
sun stand straight up." Near the spring, they found a heavy thicket where Muscles could conceal
himself. "When you're translating for Biff, raise your voice slightly, Chuba.Not
loud enough to cause suspicion, but loud enough for me to hear." "Let's have a dry run of that," Biff suggested. Muscles concealed himself in the thicket. Chuba talked to Biff in a tone
slightly louder than normal. "You hear all right, Muscles? "Biff asked. "You're coming through loud and clear," was the reply. "How much time before noon?" "Ten minutes," Muscles called back. Chuba spoke to Biff. "You stay here now. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
I go little piece down hill,
see if I can spot Chan Li coming up." Chuba left.Biff remained silent,
not wanting to give Muscles' position away by talking to him any more. In a few minutes Chuba returned. His face told Biff the story. "He's coming. Be here real quick." "Is he alone?" "He by himself." Good, Biff thought.If Chan Li acted suspiciously, or tried any funny
stuff, Muscles lay in waiting. Chan Li came into the small clearing around the spring. He bowed low to
Chuba, then repeated the gesture to Biff. "He asks who you are, Biff," Chuba translated. "Tell him I am a friend of the House of Kwang. I seek their help." Interpreter Chuba spoke swiftly. "He says he needs proof of this. He must be sure you are real true
friend." It was now or never, Biff decided.He reached under his cloak and took
out his key chain. Turning his back to Chuba and Chan Li, he took the
ring off the chain. Turning, he held it out. "Ask Chan Li if this is
proof enough?" The slender Chinese stepped forward.He took the ring from Biff's hand. He inspected it carefully, then replaced it in Biff's hand. "It is the ring of the Ancient One, the Old Lord of the House of Kwang,"
he said to Chuba.When Chuba gave this information to Biff, his heart
pounded with excitement. "Now tell him, Chuba, that we come here to find my Uncle Charles, or to
get any definite information as to where he is." Chuba's head went up and down. He spoke to Chan Li.Their conversation
went on and on. Biff's anxiety grew. Chan Li's answer was all important. At long last, much to Biff's relief, the conversation ended. It was a
solemn-faced Chuba who turned to Biff. "He has told me many things.Many
things we wanted to know." "Well, what are they? What are they?" Biff demanded impatiently. "He says Sahib Charles is being hidden from soldiers by House of Kwang." "What!" Biff clapped his hands. He couldn't contain his joy. "Tell me
more. ""Chan Li says more, that Sahib Charles hurt self when plane come down." Biff's joyful feeling vanished. "Badly? Was he hurt badly?" "No. Not too bad. But enough to keep him from traveling. Now he all
better.All is arranged for House of Kwang to help Sahib Charles get
back to Burma." "What can we do to help?" "Chan Li will take us to hide-out place. We get Sahib Charles, lead him
back to--"
Biff held up his hand. "Wait. "Biff felt there was still need for
caution. He didn't want Chuba to mention the plan for the plane pickup. He didn't want him to reveal Muscles' presence. There was no way of
knowing whether Chan Li understood English or not.Until they reached
Uncle Charlie, it would be wiser, Biff felt, to hold back what little
ammunition they still had. "Ask him where is this hide-out where my uncle is?" Chuba turned back to Chan Li. He spoke rapidly.Chan Li replied, and
pointed in a direction north of Jaraminka. "Just north of the city. In those foothills you can see from here." "How long will it take us to get there?" Biff was asking these questions
for the benefit of the hidden Muscles. "An hour, says Chan Li. Maybe little more. But not much." "And is he ready to take us there now?" Chuba again nodded assent to the question. "Tell him, then, that we are ready to go right now." Chuba spoke to Chan Li.The Chinese replied with a deep bow, and the
sweep of one arm, as if to say, "I lead. You follow." As if speaking to himself, but in a clear voice, Biff said, "An hour
there, an hour with Uncle Charlie, and an hour back--a bit more,
perhaps.Four hours at the most." Biff stressed the words, "four hours." He hoped Muscles would understand. He hoped Muscles would know that if
they weren't back in four hours, then something had gone wrong.With Chan Li in the lead, they headed for the distant foothills. CHAPTER XVIII
The House of Kwang
Muscles didn't move. He kept his eyes glued to his watch until ten
minutes had passed.Not until then did he think it safe to come out of
his hiding place. He had overheard every word. He, too, had been
thrilled at hearing that his good friend, Charles Keene, was safe.Going back up the hillside, being very careful to take the protection of
all cover on the way, Muscles muttered to himself his admiration of
Biff. "Smart kid, that Biff," he said softly. "He's not showing his whole
hand. He wants to be shown first. "Muscles looked at his watch. The
hands pointed to 12:30. "Four hours, Biff said. That will make it four-thirty." Muscles grinned. "If they're not back by that time, Muscles is going to muscle in. "Nothing was said for the first half hour as Chan Li led Biff and Chuba
into the foothills to the north of Jaraminka. Chan followed a course
which curved around the city.The city lay below them, about three miles
away, nestled in the center of an oval-shaped valley, rimmed by hills. The growth on the sloping hillside was thick, but the path they traveled
was wide and cleared enough for easy going.They made good speed. When
they reached a point almost due north of the city, the path turned
sharply to the left, and the incline steepened. They puffed their way up the path, putting the city farther and farther
behind them.After a particularly steep climb, they reached a level
area. Looking ahead, Biff saw that the path came to a dead end against a
low, stone wall. Gaping holes in the wall showed that it had been a
long, long time since any care had been taken of it.Chan Li came to the wall and scrambled over it. Biff and Chuba followed. Chan Li called a halt once they were inside the wall, and standing in a
thick clump of trees. Chan spoke to Chuba. Chuba interpreted to Biff. "Chan say we almost there.Must go most careful now. Ahead is old house,
big house, once house of important family. Family all dead. Only evil
spirits remain. People afraid of old house." Chan Li pushed deeper into the woods.Biff had no chance to voice
suspicions that were growing in him. He felt that such a house must be
known. But would the "evil spirits" keep authorities from investigating? Biff shook his head. He didn't like the situation.He couldn't tell
exactly why, but his doubts grew stronger. True, the house was deep in a
dense forest. It took quite a climb to reach it.It was a good five
miles from the outskirts of Jaraminka, and there had been no sign of any
other house on their path to reach it. The woods started to thin out. Biff could see they were coming to an
opening.As they neared it, Biff saw the gray outlines of several
buildings, linked together by a high stone wall. There was no sign of
life. The buildings, low, sprawling, had an ominous, mysterious quality
about them.The space between the woods and the house was just wide
enough for what once must have been a moat. Chan Li led the boys to an arched opening in the wall, and they passed
through it. Before them, Biff saw a large courtyard.A graveled pathway
led to the main door. Three small pools were spaced on either side of
the path from the opening to the house. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
As they neared the door, Biff sensed and felt the presence of someone
behind him. He turned his head.Two Chinese soldiers, each with a
revolver in hand, had closed in behind the three. Before Biff could raise his voice in protest, or question Chan Li, the
Chinese guide spoke. "Welcome to the House of Kwang." He entered the door.The guards moved
up behind Biff and Chuba. There was nothing they could do but follow
Chan Li. He led them down a long corridor. The corridor was lined with
small rooms on each side.This may once have been the House of Kwang,
Biff told himself, but there was little doubt as to what it was being
used for now. The small windows in the center of the doors were barred.At several of the windows they passed, silent men stared out of the bars
at them. At the end of the corridor, two more guards threw open a large, richly
decorated door.Chan Li, a leer on his face now, bowed low, and with a
sweep of his arm, ushered the boys through. "The courtyard of the Ancient One. The Old Lord of the House of Kwang." He spoke the words in perfect English.In the center of the room two men sat on high-backed throne chairs. One
of them was richly dressed in a flowing robe, decorated with red and
gold dragons. The other man, much older, was in tattered clothing. A
wispy beard waved downward from his chin.Both men wore tight-fitting
skull caps. "Approach, my friends," said the richly dressed man. Biff and Chuba
crossed the large room until they stood directly in front of the two
men.On closer inspection, Biff saw that the speaker who wore the rich
clothing had coarse facial features. His big, broad nose seemed to have
been ironed onto his face. The other man, though poorly dressed, had a
fine, proud face. He held his head high.His eyes, dimmed by the years,
were the eyes of a frightened man, but of a man who would face his fate
without flinching. "You are seeking the master of the House of Kwang, I am informed," the
younger man said.As he spoke, two men appeared from behind the chairs. One of them had but one good eye. The lid of the other eye drooped until
the eye was shut. The Chinese of the Chicago plane! The man turned on a triumphant smile toward Biff. "We meet again, Mr.
Brewster," he said. "Silence, Mao!" commanded the richly robed man. "You have, I am told, a
ring with you, young man. A ring which indicates your great friendship
for the House of Kwang." The smile left the speaker's face.He leaned
slightly forward, and his next words were a stern, crisp order. "I'll
take that ring. I am Ping Lu, master of the house." Biff reached into his pocket. He detached the ring and held it out in
his open palm.Just as the richly robed man reached for it, the older
man arose, bent forward, and snatched it. As he did, Ping Lu, with a
sweep of his heavy arm, knocked the old man back into his chair. He
seized the old man's hand, and pried open his fist.He took the ring. The old man spoke. He spoke in Chinese. Ping Lu laughed as the old man
poured out a stream of words. "You may interpret for your American friend, if you wish," Ping Lu said,
addressing Chuba. "The Old One is the real Master of the House of Kwang," Chuba
translated. "He is called Tao Kwang, and is oldest of the remaining
Kwang family. The ring is his. He is much angered that it is now in
hands of richly dressed man." Ping Lu cut in. "True, all true. Once this old fool was the master of
this house. Oh yes, this was one of the many houses owned by him. But
_I_ am master of this house now.It is used by me and my government as a
place where we entertain--" he chortled at the word "entertain"--"our
more important guests.And Tao Kwang, though a doddering old fool now,
once held sway over this territory, and still thinks he has much
influence." Tao Kwang spoke again. Again Chuba interpreted. "Ancient One say still
many sons and nephews here.Say for us not to be afraid." "Of course there is nothing to be afraid of," Ping Lu said. "I hope you
will enjoy your stay with us." "How long do you intend keeping us prisoners?" Biff asked. "Prisoners? Let us say 'guests. 'Of course, we will have to see that you
are protected at all times. That is why it will be necessary to have you
kept in a room guarded by two of my strongest soldiers. You ask how long
will you be staying with us?" Biff nodded his head. "That, young man, depends on the cooperation I expect to get from you in
a matter of great importance." "What is it?" Biff asked. "You will hear, in due time.But first, a few days rest here with us
should, I think, do much to show you the absolute necessity of your
cooperating." Biff didn't want to think of what the "few days rest" might mean. "Tell me this," Ping continued. "Your paying us this visit surely wasn't
only because of your friendship with the House of Kwang. I seem to
remember being told of other inquiries your clever young friend made on
your behalf." He motioned toward Chuba as he spoke.Biff decided on a show of boldness. There was nothing to be gained by
cowering before this self-important official. "You're right. I have come here in search of my uncle. His name is
Charles Keene." "So. Well, perhaps I can be of assistance to you.Perhaps the ring you
brought with you from so many thousands of miles away will bring you
good fortune." Biff felt like the mouse the cat was playing with. "Is he here?" Biff demanded. Ping Lu clapped his hands.The Chinese with the bad eye, whom he had
called Mao, came to him. Ping Lu leaned over and spoke softly into Mao's
ear. Neither Biff nor Chuba could hear what was said. Mao left the room. Ping Lu turned to Chan Li.He had been standing just behind the boys
during the conversation. "You may go now, Chan Li. And your reward will be given you as you
leave." Chan bowed, and turned toward the door. Tao Kwang, the Ancient One, spat out a single word as Chan left.Biff looked at Chuba. "He call him traitor," Chuba said. Ping Lu leaned back in his chair. He clasped his fat hands over his
bulging belly. A smirk of satisfaction was stamped on his face.The rasp of a door opening on the right side of the huge room caused
Biff to turn his head sharply. Through the door, prodded from behind by
the gun barrels of two soldiers, walked Uncle Charlie.CHAPTER XIX
Uncle Charlie's Story
"Biff!" Charles Keene shouted his nephew's name hoarsely. He crossed the
room and placed his hands on Biff's shoulders. Strangely, the guards
made no move to stop him. "Gee, Uncle Charlie--" Biff broke off. He felt his voice choke up and
knew he wasn't far from tears. This, he told himself, would never do. Not in front of the leering Ping Lu. "I'm sure glad we found you, sir. Chuba came with me. "Chuba was grinning at Uncle Charlie. "We find you okay, Sahib Charlie. You in good shapes?" "I've been very well cared for," Uncle Charlie replied, stressing the
word "very." "Ping Lu has seen to that. "Uncle Charlie glanced at Ping Lu, then deliberately turned from him and
bowed low to Tao Kwang. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
A fleeting smile crossed the Ancient One's face. "Quite a reunion," Ping Lu said. "And surely a most happy one. ""It would be, under different circumstances," Charles Keene said. "Those circumstances can be altered to suit you and your nephew, Keene,"
Ping Lu said. He added, "It is but a slight thing I ask you to do." Charles Keene shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps you would like to discuss it with your nephew. And I'm sure the
Ancient One could advise you well." Ping Lu clapped his hands. The door
through which Charles Keene had entered opened again. Across the room
came a tall, white-robed man.Biff glanced at the man, then stared hard
at him. It was Palung, the Chinese who had attempted to kidnap him at
the Rangoon airport. Palung didn't even look at Biff.Biff's escape from him and his two
knife-wielding thugs, had undoubtedly caused Palung to lose face. Certainly Palung must have been disgraced in the eyes of his superior,
Ping Lu. "Show our guests to the large court. They have much to talk about.And
be sure this time the young one doesn't get away." The expression on
Ping Lu's face, the bark in his voice plainly said, "That's an order." The two guards who had escorted Charles Keene into the room took their
positions behind the three.A short, crisp sentence came from Ping Lu's
lips. The Ancient One arose from his chair and joined them. Palung led
them from the room. The guards stayed close behind. The room they were taken to was large, but sparsely furnished.There
were two wooden chairs, plain but sturdy. Low benches, used for
sleeping, lined the walls. The door closed behind the four, and they could hear a key turning in
the door's lock. No one spoke for several moments.Then Biff went to the
door to peer through its barred window. His stare was returned by a
guard's expressionless face. Biff turned back to rejoin the group. "All right, young man," Charles Keene said. "Now suppose you just tell
me how you happen to be here." "I will, Uncle Charlie. But first, don't you think we'd better check to
see if this room is bugged?" "You're right, Biff. Should have thought of that myself.There could
very well be a microphone hidden in this room. I imagine Ping Lu would
be most interested in what we'll be talking about." The inspection of the room took only a few minutes. The walls were bare. There were no light fixtures, no wiring.There was no place where a
microphone could have been concealed. "Guess we're safe from their ears," Uncle Charlie said. "But why did
they put us together? They've got some reason, I know." Biff nodded his head.He picked up one of the chairs and placed it near
the bench directly opposite the barred door. Chuba brought over the
other one. Biff wanted to be as far away from the guard as possible. Plans had to be made.Biff didn't want them upset by any eavesdropper. The two Americans and the two Chinese huddled by the wall. They spoke in
low tones. Biff quickly sketched in his experiences since leaving
Indianapolis. Then he plied his uncle with questions. "But what I don't understand, Uncle Charlie, is why they would want to
capture me? I'm sure that blinky-eyed Chinese was spying on me from the
moment I left Indianapolis. Even before, according to your friend Ling
Tang." "You're right, Biff. ""And then I've told you how they tried to put the snatch on me at the
airport. But why?" "I can't give you all the answers, Biff. I'm not sure of them myself. But I have a pretty good idea." Charles Keene paused to light a
cigarette. "I've been held here almost a month, now. Sort of lost track of the
actual number of days. At first I thought they'd ship me off to Peking,
the capital. But if I should agree to what Ping Lu wants me to, it would
be a large feather in his cap.He'd become a big shot in the eyes of the
big bosses in Peking." "What does he want you to do?" Biff asked. "Just sign a paper." "Sign a paper? Is _that_ all?" Biff asked, disbelief in his voice. Charlie Keene nodded his head. "It would be quite a document, Biff. He
hasn't let me read it, but from what he has said, I get the message." "But why the paper, Uncle Charlie?" "That's what I'm not altogether sure of.I think Ping Lu believes--in
fact, I know he does--he's convinced that I came into China for a reason
quite different from the real one.He believes the reason I gave him for
daring to enter this forbidden country is merely a cover-up story for my
real mission." "What does he think you're doing here?" Biff insisted. Charles Keene grinned. "He has me marked as a big fat spy. "An idea was buzzing around Biff's mind. He thought he might have
stumbled on why Ping Lu was spy-minded. But he'd tell Uncle Charlie
about that later. He wanted to know some other things first. "But how does this all connect up with me?" Biff asked. "I figure it this way, Biff. I'm sure if Palung had been able to kidnap
you, they'd have started putting the pressure on me much sooner. When
you escaped, it upset their plans and their timetable. They had to have
you to force my hand. ""To sign the paper, you mean?" "That's right. They would have held you hostage. They would have
promised to release you, unharmed, if I would agree to their demands." "You wouldn't trust them to live up to their promise?" "No. But more than that.I didn't think they had you. Certain questions
I asked led me to believe you were safe in Unhao." "And now I turn up right in their own backyard." "That's about it. I expect now they'll start turning up the heat. ""What do you figure is in this paper they want you to sign?" "I think, Biff, they want me to sign an official paper, stating that I
came here under the orders of the United States Government to spy on the
Chinese.Just what they think I was looking for, I don't know." "Would such a document be so damaging?" "Very. It would embarrass our government and put an additional strain on
relations that are strained enough already.In the eyes of the world,
the Chinese could use such a paper to further discredit our country. They would aim the propaganda at those countries that are wavering in
their opinion of the U.S."
"Just why did you come into China?I think I know, but I'd like to be
sure," Biff said. "It goes back to Indianapolis and to my friendship with Ling Tang." "I thought so." "Ling Tang is a grandson of the Ancient One here.Before I left to come
out to Burma, Ling Tang asked me if I would help him and members of the
House of Kwang if the occasion should arise. Naturally, I told my old
friend that I would. Didn't know then, though, how much I was letting
myself in for. "The Ancient One, although unable to understand English, pricked up his
ears at mention of Ling Tang and the House of Kwang. "I'd been out here about three months when I got a letter from Tang
telling me one of his brothers was going to try to escape from China. He
was going to try to cross into Burma.He would seek me out, identifying
himself with the ring which bears the seal of the House of Kwang." | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
"Like the ring that came through my window?" "That's right, Biff. Tang's brother did get out. He gave me the ring.I,
in turn, sent it on to Tang in the States. Whenever another escape was
about to take place, the ring was to be sent me to alert me of the fact. A lot safer than putting such information in writing. ""Then it was Ling Tang _himself_ who got the ring to me so
mysteriously!" Biff said. "Yes. You were to bring that ring to me, and then I would know that
another Kwang was on the way out." "But why didn't you wait?" Biff asked. "Wait until I got here with the
ring?" "I couldn't. There's an underground network that passes information
along. From it, I learned that the Ancient One had finally been
persuaded to seek haven and peace in the outside world.I also learned
that he was in grave danger of being made a prisoner. If this happened,
then all members of the House of Kwang would have to obey the orders of
the Chinese Red government.The government believes that the House of
Kwang has hidden valuables worth millions of dollars. If they took the
Ancient One prisoner, the family would be forced to tell where these
valuables are or never see the head of their family again.And you know
how the Chinese worship and revere the head of the house." Chuba sat silent, wide-eyed, as Charles Keene told his story. "It was foolish of me, I guess.But when I heard they were about to move
in on the Ancient One, I decided on a gamble. I sent word back that I
was flying in. They were to have the Ancient One ready. I'd pick him up
and come out. I had the whole thing figured out.Wouldn't take more than
five hours in and out. I also figured on the element of surprise. No one
would be expecting such a bold move." "And what happened?" "Everything got fouled up. My starboard motor conked out.Carburetor
iced up in the rarefied atmosphere. Couldn't maintain flying speed and
had to make a forced landing. Banged the plane up so I couldn't take off
again. And then, just as I was making a signal to Unhao, they grabbed
me." "That _was_ you then.Your signal came the first morning I was in
Unhao." "So part of it did get through! I hoped it had." Charlie continued his
story. "I was brought here, and the next day, they brought in the
Ancient One. "The conversation was cut short by the sound of the key turning in the
door. It swung open, and a Chinese entered bringing food. Biff hadn't
realized how much time had passed. But now he realized he was ravenously
hungry.As the servant placed the food on one of the benches, the guard
stood just inside the door, his gun covering the prisoners. Nothing was said as they ate. All were famished. Biff raised his plate
to scrape up the last few grains of rice.As he did so, his eye was
caught by a small, square piece of thin paper stuck on the bottom of the
plate. He removed the paper, and once more, saw the symbol "K," the seal of the
House of Kwang. Without a word, Biff handed it to the Ancient One.The old man looked at
it. Now it was his time to talk as the Americans and Chuba listened. CHAPTER XX
Muscles "Muscles" In
Muscles checked his watch for the tenth time in the past five minutes.He was growing more and more impatient. The minute hand showed it to be
ten minutes past four o'clock. Twenty minutes remained before Biff's
four-hour deadline would run out. The powerful mechanic had returned to the spring.He kept his eyes
turned in the direction of the path taken by Chan Li, Biff, and Chuba. He kept them turned that way except for the times he glared at the
crystal of his watch. There was no sign of anyone. He could see the path at several spots.He
had watched closely as long as he could when the party of three had
left. Since their departure, he had seen no one. "They could be back by now," he said to himself. "Plenty of time to get
there and back." Impatiently, he strode up and down.Deep within him,
Muscles knew that he really wasn't expecting them to return. His doubts,
his fears had grown as the minutes became hours. He pounded his fist
into the palm of his other hand. He wanted action. He was a man of
action.This waiting, he told himself, was strictly for the birds. At 4:25, Muscles could stand it no longer. He started for the path. If
Biff, Chuba, Charlie Keene, and their guide were returning, he'd meet
them on the way.Muscles went along the path at a dog trot. Without realizing, he broke
into a run. He checked himself when he came to the path's sharp left
turn and the steep rise to the crumbling stone wall.Now he was certain that Chan Li had led his friends into a trap. It was
nearly 5:30--an hour over the deadline. The path by the wall, Muscles
noticed, ran each way. Which way to turn, left or right? His decision
was made for him by a sound.Muscles crouched low, just off the path,
out of sight. He could plainly hear someone coming toward him. He stared through a small opening in the thick bush he was using as
cover. His muscles tensed, he was ready to spring like a tiger.A figure suddenly came into view. It was Chan Li. With a snarl, Muscles
sprang. He jumped on the back of the Chinese. His weight hurled the
slighter man to the ground. Like a cat, Muscles leaped up.He snatched
Chan's right arm, twisted it, until Chan was face down on the ground. Muscles, keeping pressure on the arm, plunked himself down on Chan's
back.Increasing pressure on the arm until Chan gasped in pain, Muscles
rasped out, "Okay, let's have it, and fast. Where are the boys?" Chan didn't answer. "You're going to be a one-armed Chinese if you don't talk. "Muscles
cupped his free hand on the back of Chan's head. He ground the man's
face in the dirt. "Talk!" The pain was bad enough, but the humiliation of having his face ground
into the dirt, of losing face literally, was more than Chan could stand. "I talk," he said. Muscles released the pressure. He stood up. "Now get up, you dog. Get up
and tell me what happened." "I had to do it. I had to lead boys to Ping Lu. If I don't, he do great
harm to my family." "Ping Lu? Who's he?Member of the Kwang tribe?" "No, he big boss in this territory." "So, you turned traitor to your own. Where are the boys?" "In big house, not far from here." "Let's get going then. Show me the way." Chan Li seemed to shrink in size at Muscles' words. "Oh, no! No! Never. They kill me. They kill you if we go back. Many guards. All armed." Muscles thought fast. "Charles Keene is there, too?" Chan nodded his head. "Now listen, you double-crosser. I don't trust you, but I've got to.Do
you know any members of the Kwang family who are opposed to this Ping Lu
you mentioned?" "Oh, yes. Are many around here." "All right. Now get this, and get it straight. You're going to take me
to one of them.And if you try to cross me, you'll die along with me. I
can knock you off with one blow." Muscles held a clenched fist to Chan's
face. He twisted it on the Chinese's nose. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
"I'll be this close to you
all the time.And believe me, I'll get you before anyone gets me. Understand?" "I understand. Chan Li won't try double cross." "Okay. Let's get going then. And on the double." The Ancient One took the slip of paper from Biff.He looked at it
carefully, then nodded his head. He turned to Chuba and spoke softly,
swiftly. After a few moments, he stopped and indicated with a nod toward
Biff and Charles Keene that Chuba was to interpret. "The Ancient One says there is great hope for escape. This piece of
paper comes from one of his grandsons. He works in the kitchen. It is
not known by the officials here that this cook is member of the House of
Kwang.He was placed here to spy on Ping Lu. To try to find out plans. To warn when danger threatens Kwang House people." The Ancient One resumed his speaking. [Illustration: _He grabbed the guard by the collar and lifted him by one
hand into the room_]
"He says that paper with 'K' on it is signal.Either tonight, when clock
makes twelve strikes, or tomorrow night at same time, attempt will be
made to rescue him and us." "How, Chuba? Ask him how?" Biff said. As Chuba spoke, the Ancient One shook his head. "Does not know exact plans.His grandson will try to be servant who
comes for tray. He will tell us plan." Biff looked at his uncle. "Guess there's nothing we can do but wait." Uncle Charlie agreed. "But things look good.When members of the House
of Kwang act, they're usually successful." "Then how in the world did they ever let the Ancient One get captured in
the first place?" Biff asked. "I think the Ancient One himself had something to do with that.He
doesn't really want to leave his homeland. He is old, and like all
Chinese, he wants his final resting place to be in the earth of his
native land. ""I've heard that was true--Look, Uncle Charlie, I think I may have an
idea as to why Ping Lu is so desperate for you to sign that paper." "Give out, Biff. Give out. ""Well, I'm not sure, of course, but on our way to Jaraminka, we ran into
something very strange." "Was much big workings," Chuba cut in. "Many, many more big machines
than when camp was cleared at Unhao." "Tell me more, Biff. "Biff described the activity they had discovered behind the wire fence. He told his uncle of the immensity of the project, of the furious pace
at which the men worked, of the bulldozers, the cranes, the steam
shovels. "And there's an air strip already completed. It was loaded with planes. You have an idea what it might be?" Charles Keene thought a few moments before replying. "Only a slight idea
from what you've told me, Biff. I'd have to see the place. ""Maybe you can take a look on our way back." "If we ever get out of here," his uncle said soberly. "We'll get out," Biff said spiritedly. "Hope you're right, Biff.You know, putting two and two together, the
build-up of the Army in this area, and what you've described, it could
be that Ping Lu thinks my real reason for coming in was to get
information on the huge construction job. ""That's what I thought, Uncle Charlie." There was a noise at the door. All four raised expectant, hopeful eyes. Their expression of hope changed to one of despair.The same servant who had brought the meal came into the room to remove
the tray piled with dishes. What had happened to the Ancient One's grandson?CHAPTER XXI
Out of the Frying Pan
The clank of a heavy key in the lock of the door woke Biff the next day. He started to yawn, and stretched the kinks from his shoulders and legs. Abruptly he sat up. It could be the "cook! "Biff's hopes dimmed when the
man entered. Again it was the same old servant, well protected by an
armed guard. Biff looked at the Ancient One. His face was expressionless. Uncle
Charlie shrugged his shoulders at Biff's questioning look. "Don't let it get you down, Biff. We haven't lost yet. Maybe at the noon
meal, perhaps we'll get some word then." "Wish Muscles were here. If he were we could overpower the guard and
make a break for it. ""Muscles--what made you think of Muscles all of a sudden?" Biff clamped his open hand on his head, his jaw dropped as a thought
struck him. "I com-plete-ly forgot to tell you. Muscles is _here_, in _China_, in
Jaraminka!" "Where'd you leave him? "Uncle Charlie decided details could be
explained later. "Back at a spring, just west of the city. I hope he got my message.I
tried to tell him--he was hiding, but I'm sure he could hear us--that if
we weren't back in four hours then we'd been led into a trap." Biff's
words rushed out in one jumbled sentence. "That's the best news I've heard yet, Biff.Muscles is a good operator." "But what could he do? He'd be spotted in a minute," Biff said. "Haven't got the answer to that one," Uncle Charlie replied. "But I'd
bet on Muscles in any situation. He bulldogs in where angels fear to
tread. "The morning hours dragged. As noon approached, Biff became more and more
restless. "Wish something would happen--anything! I wonder why Ping Lu hasn't sent
for us?" "Playing a waiting game, Biff," his uncle replied. "The longer he keeps
us here with no word, the more tense and nervous we'll get. He knows
that. Uncertainty, waiting, not knowing what move the enemy will make
next is one of the surest ways of making a man reach his breaking point.And your being here, he reasons, will make me twice as jittery." The hour of noon came and passed. No one came to the prison room.Biff
was wondering how near his breaking point was when, shortly after one
o'clock, the now familiar rasp of a key in the door was heard. "Make it be the Ancient One's grandson," Biff said half aloud. The
others were praying for the same thing.The door swung inward. Whether the new servant was the grandson, Biff
didn't know. But it was a different man. He brought a tray of food over
and placed it beside Tao Kwang. Biff thought he saw the man's lips move,
but he couldn't be sure.The servant left. The door was locked behind
him. Biff looked at Chuba. "Did he say anything? Ask the Ancient One." Chuba spoke softly, rapidly to the old man. The old one's reply was a
single sentence.Chuba translated:
"Tonight when the clock makes the twelve strikes." "That's all? Didn't give you any details?" "That's all Ancient One tell Chuba. I think that all grandson tell the
Ancient One." Never had Biff known a day to pass so slowly.The suspense became
unbearable. Charlie Keene tried to calm Biff down. "I think you'd be better off if you'd try to rest. Pacing back and forth
isn't going to make the time go by any quicker. Get Chuba to teach you
the Oriental art of patience.""Rest? Who can rest at a time like this?" Biff replied. Then he was
ashamed at the angry tone in his voice. "I'm sorry, Uncle Charlie. I
didn't mean to--"
"I understand, Biff. But you may need all your strength when midnight
comes.Try stretching out for a little while." Biff took his uncle's advice. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
His mind was in a turmoil as he lay on the
hard wooden bench, his cupped hands beneath his head serving for a
pillow. Sleep would never come, he told himself.The next thing he knew,
he was being gently shaken. Uncle Charlie was bending over him,
grinning. "Almost midnight, Biff. Better come alive." "Midnight!" Biff sat up in astonishment. He couldn't believe it. "But
what about supper?Did I sleep right through it?" "No one brought anything tonight. Don't know why." Charles Keene picked
up the kerosene lamp which gave the room its only light, and blew it
out. "If anything is going to happen, it would be better if the guards
thought we were asleep." They waited in the darkness. There was no conversation. But the tension
in the room was so strong, it seemed as though you could touch it like a
physical thing.Biff knew he could feel it. Biff's hopes went high and low like a playground swing. Suddenly his
ears caught a strange noise. It came from the far end of the corridor
through which Biff and Chuba had been led to Ping Lu. The noise grew louder.Shouts were heard. Running feet could be heard in
the corridor. Biff sprang to the barred window of the door. He peered
into the dimly lighted hall. The guard was gone. Now the cries became
louder. "Chuba! Can you make out what's being said? "Chuba came to the door. He put his head close to the bars. "Fire! Much shoutings of fire. Fire in kitchen!" In the kitchen. Where the grandson served as a cook. This must be it! Moments passed. Heavy footsteps were heard in the hall.Biff, his uncle,
and Chuba crowded toward the door. Only the Ancient One remained where
he was, seated on the far wall bench. He sat quietly, waiting. The sound of running feet came nearer. A figure skidded to a stop by
their door.Behind this figure stood what was certainly the biggest
Chinese in all the Orient. The key turned. The grandson came in. Behind him came the giant. Under
an almost concealing broad-brimmed hat, the "Oriental" was grinning
widely. "Muscles!How did you get here?" Biff and Charlie shot the question at
their friend in the same breath. "No time for an answer now. We got to make with the feet. There's enough
excitement in the kitchen now to cover our escape. "The grandson was at the side of the Ancient One. He helped him to his
feet. "Hold it," Muscles called out. "Let me see if the coast is clear." He
leaned out the door. "Looks okay--oh-oh--hold it. A guard's coming
along. I'll take him." And he did.As the guard reached the door, Muscle's huge arm snaked out. He grabbed the guard by the collar and lifted him by one hand into the
room. With his other hand, he struck the guard a chopping blow, and the
guard went limp without uttering a sound.Charlie Keene caught him as he
slumped over. "Stack him in the corner, Charlie. Might be another one coming along." Muscles was right. Another guard came trotting down the hall and
received the same treatment. "Two down--how many to go? "Muscles was enjoying himself. "More guards coming," Chuba whispered excitedly. "Two of them this time," Muscles said. "Makes a more even match." The giant mechanic waited until the two were in the corridor a pace
beyond the door.He jerked the door open, pounced on the two guards, and
in a swooping motion, cracked their heads together. He dragged them into
the room. "Muscles, look, let's put these four on the benches.Anybody looking in
will think it's us sleeping," Biff suggested in a whisper. "Smart," Uncle Charlie agreed, nodding. The unconscious guards were
carefully posed as drowsy prisoners.Chuba had taken a position just
outside the door as this was being done. "No more guards coming," he called softly. The four prisoners left their cell. Muscles motioned to the grandson for
the keys. He turned the lock. "Don't know whether you'd call that a fair exchange," he said, "but it's
an even one." "Come. We must lose no more time." The grandson took the lead. The
others followed. They passed through the room where Ping Lu had held
court.A door on the other side of the room led to another corridor,
this one narrower and shorter. "Hope he knows where he's going," Biff said. "He ought to. This used to be his home. He grew up here," Muscles
replied.At the end of the corridor, their path was blocked by another door. The
grandson tried it. It wouldn't yield. "No keys," he said. "Okay then, stand back." Muscles took six steps away from the door.Then, with a bull-like charge, he hurtled his powerful body against it. The door sprang from its hinges, fell flat on the ground outside, with
Muscles sprawling on top of it. It took only seconds to reach the stone wall.The Ancient One was helped
over. Biff turned as he crossed the wall. One end of the house was
ablaze. Figures could be seen running frantically around, casting weird,
dancing shadows.As Biff watched, he saw four men leave the light of the blaze and come
on a run to the place in the wall they had just crossed. "Hurry," Biff shouted. "They're after us. "CHAPTER XXII
Hong Kong and Points East
The party moved swiftly through the night. The grandson never hesitated. He knew every bend and turn in the path. Suddenly he stopped. "We must rest a few minutes," he said. "Honorable grandfather is old. He
cannot stand this pace." "But we've got to keep going," Biff insisted. "I saw four men leave the
fire and come after us." "Fear not, my friend. I think I know who they are.But stay here, I'll
go back down the path and make certain," the "cook" said. The grandson vanished in the night. Biff felt sure that any moment the
party would be jumped by pursuing guards. Then he heard voices.The
grandson came back, followed by four men. "My brothers and cousins," the grandson said. "They are more grandsons
of the Old Lord. One of them is brother to your friend Ling Tang." Muscles stepped into the group. "Sure, I know these guys.They're okay. These are real members of the House of Kwang. I made that double-crosser
Chan Li take me to them. We worked out the whole escape. This fellow,"
Muscles pointed to the grandson-servant, "he started the whole thing.Set the kitchen on fire. Then he grabbed the keys, and led me to your
room. The others stayed back to watch the guards. Held some of them back
all right. Must have been more than twenty on duty." "We can go on now," the grandson said quietly. "The Ancient One has
rested." Two grandsons came to the side of the old man. Each placed a supporting
arm around his waist. The party continued on its way. Except for short, regular rest periods, they kept going all night.As
dawn broke, the party stopped for a lengthier rest. All were near
exhaustion from the excitement and the steady pace they had kept up. The
Old One slept like a baby, held in the arms of one of his grandsons. They rested most of the morning.It was far safer to travel at night. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
On
the second day, as they reached a safer distance from Jaraminka, they
continued toward the plateau where Jack Hudson was to pick them up.In
turn, the grandsons went ahead to make certain no one was lying in wait
for them. "Biff, are we anywhere near the spot where you saw all that
construction?" Uncle Charlie asked. "We should be," Biff replied. "We should be nearing the valley soon.What do you think, Chuba? And you, Muscles?" "Chuba think we reach it right over next hill." "I'll trust Chuba's judgment," Muscles chimed in. Chuba was right. The valley was over the next hill.They had reached it
at a point below where it rose steeply to the metal fence. "The rest of you wait here," Charles Keene ordered. "I'll make a quick
trip for a fast look-see." "And _I'm_ with you," Biff said quickly.His uncle gave him a look,
hesitated for a moment, but apparently decided not to protest. "But Charlie--" Muscles started to say. "No buts about it. Come on, Biff." Uncle and nephew climbed the slope. Biff found the opening in the fence.They crawled underneath and reached the rim of the huge amphitheater. Uncle Charlie stared down at the activity for minutes. He took in every
detail, storing the information in his mind. A nodded signal told Biff
they were going back.Once down on the floor of the valley, Biff asked his uncle what he
thought the construction was. "I'm almost certain, Biff, that they're building a rocket launching
site." "Like Cape Canaveral?" His uncle nodded his head. "I was at Canaveral at its beginning. Saw the
place grow. That work back up there is much the same type of
construction. Still in its earliest stages, somewhat crude. Be a long
time before they can try a moon shot, or any other kind. ""Is knowing about this important?" "Important. You just bet it is. News of this development is vital. It's
the biggest, most important information Uncle Sam has had out of China
in years. You really found something, Biff. "Shortly after noon of the second day since their escape, the party
reached the plateau where Muscles had been landed by Jack Hudson. "This is it," Muscles said. "If Jack gets my signal, we'll be away and
winging by dark.Here, Chuba, take the end of this wire and scamper up
that tree. Attach it to the highest limb you can reach." The antenna was connected to the portable transmitter. The tree's height
increased the distance of transmission possible.Ground transmission
would have limited the signal. "All is okay, Muscles," Chuba called down. Muscles picked up the hand
mike. He snapped on a button. A slight hum could be heard. Muscles turned to the anxiously waiting group. "Let's hope I get
through. I can't repeat my signal more than once. It may be picked up by
the enemy." He grinned at them. "Well, here goes." Muscles held the mike
close to his mouth. "There's gold in these hyar hills...." He waited ten
seconds."Repeating.... There's gold in these hyar hills." He snapped off the transmitter. "That was our pre-arranged signal.It
tells Jack Hudson that I've found you and that we're all set to come
out. If he got my signal, he's on his way to the plane right now, I
hope, I hope, I hope. It's been on the runway, warmed up around the
clock, ever since he got back. ""Well, we'll know in about two hours," Uncle Charlie said. Jack did get the signal. Almost exactly two hours after Muscles' signal,
the faint hum of a plane was heard. It grew louder, and then came into
sight.It winged in on the prayers of the whole group, the most welcome
sight Biff had ever seen. Farewells were short. The moment the plane touched down, the Ancient One
was put aboard. The others followed fast.The last Biff saw of the Ancient One's grandsons was a picture he would
keep in his heart and mind forever. The five grandsons stood in a line,
facing in the direction of the departing plane. All were bowing deeply
to show their gratitude.No one really relaxed until the plane crossed the border, but they
reached Unhao with no trouble. Jack Hudson taxied the plane to a neat
stop and whistled in relief, "Whew-uw!" Then briskly he turned to the
group. "We're going to refuel and take right off again," he announced. "What's the hurry, Jack?" Charlie asked. "How's about letting me have a
bath?" "Man, do you know how hot you and Biff have become since you went
inside?There have been spies all over the camp. You and Biff aren't
even to get out of this plane. Biff's things and yours are all packed. I've got 'em in the luggage compartment. Soon as this crate is refueled,
it's off for Hong Kong.You can dunk the body there." "But what about you, Jack?" "Oh, they don't want me. It's you two got the information they want to
keep from getting out. I don't know what you know, and I don't want to. They don't know I've crossed into the big 'C. '"Biff looked at Chuba. Unashamed tears filled the native boy's eyes. Biff
choked up. "Don't worry, Chuba, we'll meet again," he said, and meant
it.Muscles ruffled Chuba's dark hair and said, "Chum, next year you and I
go Stateside, and we'll visit this character." Muscles gave Biff an
affectionate punch on the chin. "See you soon," he said, as he and Chuba
left the plane.They made Hong Kong safely. Biff and his uncle found a U.S. military
policeman, who took them to the consulate. There they reported their
discovery to an amazed official. "You have performed a great service for your country," the embassy
official said solemnly, and added with a faint smile, "although you
should have your passports taken away for such a foolhardy venture. ""I know you're right, sir," Charles Keene said, "but I would like to ask
a favor of you. Can you get us out of Hong Kong?" "So fast it will make your head swim. Diplomatically speaking, we don't
want you around here.There's a jet bomber taking off for Honolulu in an
hour. You'll be on it. From there, you're on your own." Two hours later, Biff and his uncle were winging over the blue Pacific,
homeward bound--and sound asleep._A Biff Brewster Mystery Adventure_
MYSTERY OF THE CHINESE RING
By ANDY ADAMS
Burma! Biff Brewster can hardly believe he'll soon be flying to Burma to
visit his Uncle Charlie.Not even when a green jade ring comes hurtling
through his bedroom window is he fully aware of the excitement and
danger awaiting him. Is the ring a good-luck charm or a bad omen?Biff suspects that Uncle
Charlie's sudden departure from Cape Canaveral to Burma might well have
international implications, and that the ring is a warning. But even with a warning, Biff is still a boy alone in a strange country.As he disembarks at Rangoon, the young adventurer walks straight into an
attempted kidnaping. | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
Using his wits, Biff escapes from his captors only
to learn that his uncle is somewhere in the heart of Red China, perhaps
in serious trouble.Horrified at the news, Biff persuades Chuba, a Burmese boy, to lead him
through the jungle swamplands and across the Chinese border.Once in
forbidden enemy territory, Biff uncovers the strange meaning of the jade
ring, learns of the secret mission which has brought his uncle to Red
China, and discovers a startling project of vital importance to the
United States.Join Biff Brewster in more thrilling, world-wide adventure stories, now
available at your local booksellers._NEW!_ BIFF BREWSTER
Mystery Adventures
By ANDY ADAMS
Biff Brewster, sixteen, is a tall, strongly built blond youth who lives
in Indianapolis, Indiana, with his parents and the eleven-year-old
twins, Ted and Monica.Because his mother and father believe that travel
is as important to education as formal schooling, Biff is encouraged to
travel to various countries during the vacation months.His experiences
in these lands, and the young people he meets there, form the basis of a
new series for adventure-loving readers.In every journey there is a
strong element of mystery, usually a direct result of conditions
peculiar to the region in which he is traveling. Thus, in addition to
adventure, these books impart carefully researched information about
foreign countries._Start reading one today_--
(1) BRAZILIAN GOLD MINE MYSTERY
(2) MYSTERY OF THE CHINESE RING
(3) HAWAIIAN SEA HUNT MYSTERY
(4) MYSTERY OF THE MEXICAN TREASURE
(5) AFRICAN IVORY MYSTERY
(6) ALASKA GHOST GLACIER MYSTERY
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Inc.Publisher
New York 10, N. Y.
Transcriber's Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original--this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged. --In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.) | Adams, Andy - Mystery of the Chinese Ring |
The railroad representatives were shrewd, affable gentlemen, and
presented an array of facts hard to overcome.They were well aware of
the obstacles to be encountered in the arid, western portion of the
state, and magnified every possibility into a stern reality.Unrolling
a large state map upon the table, around which the principals were
sitting, the agent of the Denver and Fort Worth traced the trail from
Buffalo Gap to Doan’s Crossing on Red River.Producing what was
declared to be a report of the immigration agent of his line, he showed
by statistics that whole counties through which the old trail ran had
recently been settled up by Scandinavian immigrants.The representative
of the Missouri, Kansas, and Texas, when opportunity offered,
enumerated every disaster which had happened to any herd to the
westward of his line in the past five years. The factor of the
International was equally well posted.“Now, Mr. Lovell,” said he, dumping a bundle of papers on the table,
“if you will kindly glance over these documents, I think I can convince
you that it is only a question of a few years until all trail cattle
will ship the greater portion of the way.Here is a tabulated statement
up to and including the year ’83. From twenty counties tributary to our
line and south of this city, you will notice that in ’80 we practically
handled no cattle intended for the trail.Passing on to the next
season’s drive, you see we secured a little over ten per cent. of the
cattle and nearly thirty per cent. of the horse stock.Last year, or
for ’83, drovers took advantage of our low rates for Red River points,
and the percentage ran up to twenty-four and a fraction, or practically
speaking, one fourth of the total drive.We are able to offer the same
low rates this year, and all arrangements are completed with our
connecting lines to give live-stock trains carrying trail cattle a
passenger schedule.Now, if you care to look over this correspondence,
you will notice that we have inquiries which will tax our carrying
capacity to its utmost.The ‘Laurel Leaf’ and ‘Running W’ people alone
have asked for a rate on thirty thousand head.”
But the drover brushed the correspondence aside, and asked for the
possible feed bills.A blanket rate had been given on the entire
shipment from that city, or any point south, to Wichita Falls, with one
rest and feed.Making a memorandum of the items, Lovell arose from the
table and came over to where Jim Flood and I were searching for Fort
Buford on a large wall map.We were both laboring under the impression
that it was in Montana, but after our employer pointed it out to us at
the mouth of the Yellowstone in Dakota, all three of us adjourned to an
ante-room.Flood was the best posted trail foreman in Don Lovell’s
employ, and taking seats at the table, we soon reduced the proposed
shipping expense to a pro-rata sum per head.The result was not to be
considered, and on returning to the main office, our employer, as
already expressed, declined the proffered rate. Then the freight men doubled on him, asking if he had taken into
consideration a saving in wages.In a two days’ run they would lay down
the cattle farther on their way than we could possibly drive in six
weeks, even if the country was open, not to say anything about the wear
and tear of horseflesh.But Don Lovell had not been a trail drover for
nearly fifteen years without understanding his business as well as the
freight agents did theirs.After going over a large lot of other
important data, our employer arose to take his leave, when the agent of
the local line expressed a hope that Mr. Lovell would reconsider his
decision before spring opened, and send his drive a portion of the way
by rail.“Well, I’m glad I met you, gentlemen,” said the cowman at parting, “but
this is purely a business proposition, and you and I look at it from
different viewpoints.At the rate you offer, it will cost me one dollar
and seventy-five cents to lay a steer down on Red River. Hold on; mine
are all large beeves; and I must mount my men just the same as if they
trailed all the way.Saddle horses were worth nothing in the North last
year, and I kept mine and bought enough others around Dodge to make up
a thousand head, and sent them back over the trail to my ranch.Now, it
will take six carloads of horses for each herd, and I propose to charge
the freight on them against the cattle.I may have to winter my remudas
in the North, or drive them home again, and if I put two dollars a head
freight in them, they won’t bring a cent more on that account.With the
cattle it’s different; they are all under contract, but the horses must
be charged as general expense, and if nothing is realized out of them,
the herd must pay the fiddler.My largest delivery is a sub-contract
for Fort Buford, calling for five million pounds of beef on foot. It
will take three herds or ten thousand cattle to fill it.I was anxious
to give those Buford beeves an early start, and that was the main
reason in my consenting to this conference.I have three other earlier
deliveries at Indian agencies, but they are not as far north by several
hundred miles, and it’s immaterial whether we ship or not.But the
Buford contract sets the day of delivery for September 15, and it’s
going to take close figuring to make a cent.The main contractors are
all right, but I’m the one that’s got to scratch his head and figure
close and see that there’s no leakages. Your freight bill alone would
be a nice profit.It may cost us a little for water getting out of
Texas, but with the present outlet for cattle, it’s bad policy to
harass the herds.Water is about the best crop some of those settlers
along the trail have to sell, and they ought to treat us right.”
After the conference was over, we scattered about the city, on various
errands, expecting to take the night train home.It was then the middle
of February, and five of the six herds were already purchased. In spite
of the large numbers of cattle which the trail had absorbed in previous
years, there was still an abundance of all ages, anxious for a market.The demand in the North had constantly been for young cattle, leaving
the matured steers at home.Had Mr. Lovell’s contracts that year called
for forty thousand five and six year old beeves, instead of twenty,
there would have been the same inexhaustible supply from which to pick
and choose.But with only one herd yet to secure, and ample offerings
on every hand, there was no necessity for a hurry. Many of the herds
driven the year before found no sale, and were compelled to winter in
the North at the drover’s risk.In the early spring of ’84, there was a
decided lull over the enthusiasm of the two previous years, during the
former of which the trail afforded an outlet for nearly seven hundred
thousand Texas cattle. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
In regard to horses we were well outfitted.During the summer of ’83,
Don Lovell had driven four herds, two on Indian contract and two of
younger cattle on speculation.Of the latter, one was sold in Dodge for
delivery on the Purgatory River in southern Colorado, while the other
went to Ogalalla, and was disposed of and received at that point.In
both cases there was no chance to sell the saddle horses, and they
returned to Dodge and were sent to pasture down the river in the
settlements. My brother, Bob Quirk, had driven one of the other herds
to an agency in the Indian Territory.After making the delivery, early
in August, on his employer’s orders, he had brought his remuda and
outfit into Dodge, the horses being also sent to pasture and the men
home to Texas.I had made the trip that year to the Pine Ridge Agency
in Dakota with thirty-five hundred beeves, under Flood as foreman.Don
Lovell was present at the delivery, and as there was no hope of
effecting a sale of the saddle stock among the Indians, after
delivering the outfit at the nearest railroad, I was given two men and
the cook, and started back over the trail for Dodge with the remuda.The wagon was a drawback, but on reaching Ogalalla, an emigrant outfit
offered me a fair price for the mules and commissary, and I sold them.Lashing our rations and blankets on two pack-horses, we turned our
backs on the Platte and crossed the Arkansaw at Dodge on the seventh
day. But instead of the remainder of the trip home by rail, as we fondly
expected, the programme had changed.Lovell and Flood had arrived in
Dodge some ten days before, and looking over the situation, had come to
the conclusion it was useless even to offer our remudas.As remnants of
that year’s drive, there had concentrated in and around that market
something like ten thousand saddle horses.Many of these were from
central and north Texas, larger and better stock than ours, even though
care had been used in selecting the latter.So on their arrival,
instead of making any effort to dispose of our own, the drover and his
foreman had sized up the congested condition of the market, and turned
buyers.They had bought two whole remudas, and picked over five or six
others until their purchases amounted to over five hundred head.Consequently on our reaching Dodge with the Pine Ridge horses, I was
informed that they were going to send all the saddle stock back over
the trail to the ranch and that I was to have charge of the herd.Had
the trip been in the spring and the other way, I certainly would have
felt elated over my promotion.Our beef herd that year had been put up
in Dimmit County, and from there to the Pine Ridge Agency and back to
the ranch would certainly be a summer’s work to gratify an ordinary
ambition.In the mean time and before our arrival, Flood had brought up all the
stock and wagons from the settlement, and established a camp on
Mulberry Creek, south of Dodge on the trail.He had picked up two
Texans who were anxious to see their homes once more, and the next day
at noon we started. The herd numbered a thousand and sixty head, twenty
of which were work-mules.The commissary which was to accompany us was
laden principally with harness; and waving Flood farewell, we turned
homeward, leaving behind unsold of that year’s drive only two wagons.Lovell had instructed us never to ride the same horse twice, and
wherever good grass and water were encountered, to kill as much time as
possible.My employer was enthusiastic over the idea, and well he might
be, for a finer lot of saddle horses were not in the possession of any
trail drover, while those purchased in Dodge could have been resold in
San Antonio at a nice profit.Many of the horses had run idle several
months and were in fine condition.With the allowance of four men and a
cook, a draft-book for personal expenses, and over a thousand horses
from which to choose a mount, I felt like an embryo foreman, even if it
was a back track and the drag end of the season.Turning everything
scot free at night, we reached the ranch in old Medina in six weeks,
actually traveling about forty days.But now, with the opening of the trail season almost at hand, the
trials of past years were forgotten in the enthusiasm of the present.I
had a distinct recollection of numerous resolves made on rainy nights,
while holding a drifting herd, that this was positively my last trip
over the trail.Now, however, after a winter of idleness, my worst fear
was that I might be left at home with the ranch work, and thus miss the
season’s outing entirely.There were new charms in the Buford contract
which thrilled me,—its numerical requirements, the sight of the
Yellowstone again, and more, to be present at the largest delivery of
the year to the government.Rather than have missed the trip, I would
have gladly cooked or wrangled the horses for one of the outfits. On separating, Lovell urged his foreman and myself to be at the depot
in good time to catch our train.That our employer’s contracts for the
year would require financial assistance, both of us were fully aware.The credit of Don Lovell was gilt edge, not that he was a wealthy
cowman, but the banks and moneyed men of the city recognized his
business ability.Nearly every year since he began driving cattle,
assistance had been extended him, but the promptness with which he had
always met his obligations made his patronage desirable.Flood and I had a number of errands to look after for the boys on the
ranch and ourselves, and, like countrymen, reached the depot fully an
hour before the train was due.Not possessed of enough gumption to
inquire if the westbound was on time, we loitered around until some
other passengers informed us that it was late.Just as we were on the
point of starting back to town, Lovell drove up in a hack, and the
three of us paced the platform until the arrival of the belated train.“Well, boys, everything looks serene,” said our employer, when we had
walked to the farther end of the depot. “I can get all the money I
need, even if we shipped part way, which I don’t intend to do.The
banks admit that cattle are a slow sale and a shade lower this spring,
and are not as free with their money as a year or two ago.My bankers
detained me over an hour until they could send for a customer who
claimed to have a very fine lot of beeves for sale in Lasalle County.That he is anxious to sell there is no doubt, for he offered them to me
on my own time, and agrees to meet any one’s prices. I half promised to
come back next week and go down with him to Lasalle and look his cattle
over.If they show up right, there will be no trouble in buying them,
which will complete our purchases. It is my intention, Jim, to give you
the herd to fill our earliest delivery.Our next two occur so near
together that you will have to represent me at one of them. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
The Buford
cattle, being the last by a few weeks, we will both go up there and see
it over with.There are about half a dozen trail foremen anxious for
the two other herds, and while they are good men, I don’t know of any
good reason for not pushing my own boys forward.I have already decided
to give Dave Sponsilier and Quince Forrest two of the Buford herds, and
I reckon, Tom, the last one will fall to you.”
The darkness in which we were standing shielded my egotism from public
view.But I am conscious that I threw out my brisket several inches and
stood straight on my bow-legs as I thanked old man Don for the
foremanship of his sixth herd. Flood was amused, and told me afterward
that my language was extravagant.There is an old superstition that if
a man ever drinks out of the Rio Grande, it matters not where he roams
afterward, he is certain to come back to her banks again.I had watered
my horse in the Yellowstone in ’82, and ever afterward felt an itching
to see her again.And here the opportunity opened before me, not as a
common cow-hand, but as a trail boss and one of three in filling a five
million pound government beef contract!But it was dark and I was
afoot, and if I was a trifle “chesty,” there had suddenly come new
colorings to my narrow world. On the arrival of the train, several other westward-bound cowmen
boarded it.We all took seats in the smoker, it being but a two hours’
run to our destination. Flood and I were sitting well forward in the
car, the former almost as elated over my good fortune as myself.“Well,
won’t old Quince be all puffed up,” said Jim to me, “when the old man
tells him he’s to have a herd. Now, I’ve never said a word in favor of
either one of you.Of course, when Mr. Lovell asked me if I knew
certain trail foremen who were liable to be idle this year, I intimated
that he had plenty of material in his employ to make a few of his own.The old man may be a trifle slow on reaching a decision, but once he
makes up his mind, he’s there till the cows come home. Now, all you and
Quince need to do is to make good, for you couldn’t ask for a better
man behind you.In making up your outfit, you want to know every man
you hire, and give a preference to gray hairs, for they’re not so
liable to admire their shadow in sunny or get homesick in falling
weather.Tom, where you made a ten-strike with the old man was in
accepting that horse herd at Dodge last fall. Had you made a whine or
whimper then, the chances are you wouldn’t be bossing a herd this year.Lovell is a cowman who likes to see a fellow take his medicine with a
smile.”
CHAPTER II. ORGANIZING THE FORCES
Don Lovell and Jim Flood returned from Lasalle County on the last day
of February.They had spent a week along the Upper Nueces, and before
returning to the ranch closed a trade on thirty-four hundred five and
six year old beeves.According to their report, the cattle along the
river had wintered in fine condition, and the grass had already started
in the valley.This last purchase concluded the buying for trail
purposes, and all absent foremen were notified to be on hand at the
ranch on March 10, for the beginning of active operations.Only some
ten of us had wintered at headquarters in Medina County, and as about
ninety men would be required for the season’s work, they would have to
be secured elsewhere.All the old foremen expected to use the greater
portion of the men who were in their employ the year before, and could
summon them on a few days’ notice.But Forrest and myself were
compelled to hire entirely new outfits, and it was high time we were
looking up our help.One of Flood’s regular outfit had married during the winter, and with
Forrest’s and my promotion, he had only to secure three new men.He had
dozens of applications from good cow-hands, and after selecting for
himself offered the others to Quince and me.But my brother Bob arrived
at the ranch, from our home in Karnes County, two days later, having
also a surplus of men at his command. Although he did not show any
enthusiasm over my promotion, he offered to help me get up a good
outfit of boys.I had about half a dozen good fellows in view, and on
Bob’s approval of them, he selected from his overplus six more as first
choice and four as second.It would take me a week of constant riding
to see all these men, and as Flood and Forrest had made up an outfit
for the latter from the former’s available list, Quince and I saddled
up and rode away to hire outfits.Forrest was well acquainted in
Wilson, where Lovell had put up several trail herds, and as it joined
my home county, we bore each other company the first day. A long ride brought us to the Atascosa, where we stayed all night.The
next morning we separated, Quince bearing due east for Floresville,
while I continued southeast towards my home near Cibollo Ford on the
San Antonio River.It had been over a year since I had seen the family,
and on reaching the ranch, my father gruffly noticed me, but my mother
and sisters received me with open arms.I was a mature man of
twenty-eight at the time, mustached, and stood six feet to a
plumb-line.The family were cognizant of my checkered past, and
although never mentioning it, it seemed as if my misfortunes had
elevated me in the estimation of my sisters, while to my mother I had
become doubly dear.During the time spent in that vicinity, I managed to reach home at
night as often as possible.Constantly using fresh horses, I covered a
wide circle of country, making one ride down the river into Goliad
County of over fifty miles, returning the next day. Within a week I had
made up my outfit, including the horse-wrangler and cook.Some of the
men were ten years my senior, while only a few were younger, but I knew
that these latter had made the trip before and were as reliable as
their elders.The wages promised that year were fifty dollars a month,
the men to furnish only their own saddles and blankets, and at that
figure I picked two pastoral counties, every man bred to the
occupation.The trip promised six months’ work with return passage, and
I urged every one employed to make his appearance at headquarters, in
Medina, on or before the 15th of the month.There was no railroad
communication through Karnes and Goliad counties at that time, and all
the boys were assured that their private horses would have good
pasturage at the home ranch while they were away, and I advised them
all to come on horseback.By this method they would have a fresh horse
awaiting them on their return from the North with which to continue
their homeward journey. All the men engaged were unmarried, and taken
as a whole, I flattered myself on having secured a crack outfit.I was in a hurry to get back to the ranch. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Then
my selfishness was weighed in the balance and found to be full weight.I had ridden over a hundred of the best of them, but when any one
appealed to me, even my own dear brother, I was as dumb as an oyster
about a horse.Tolleston, especially, cursed, raved, and importuned me
to help him get a good private mount, but I was as innocent as I was
immovable.The trip home from Dodge was no pleasure jaunt, and now I
was determined to draw extra pay in getting the cream of that horse
herd.There were other features governing my actions: Flood was
indifferent; Forrest, at times, was cruel to horses, and had I helped
my brother, I might have been charged with favoritism.Dave Sponsilier
was a good horseman, as his selections proved, and I was not wasting
any love and affection on Archie Tolleston that day, anyhow.That no undue advantage should be taken, Lovell kept tally of every
horse cut out, and once each foreman had taken his number, he was waved
out of the herd.I did the selecting of my own, and with the assistance
of one man, was constantly waiting my turn. With all the help he could
use, Tolleston was over half an hour making his selections, and took
the only blind horse in the entire herd.He was a showy animal, a
dapple gray, fully fifteen hands high, bred in north Texas, and
belonged to one of the whole remudas bought in Dodge.At the time of
his purchase, neither Lovell nor Flood detected anything wrong, and no
one could see anything in the eyeball which would indicate he was
moon-eyed.Yet any horseman need only notice him closely to be
satisfied of his defect, as he was constantly shying from other horses
and objects and smelled everything which came within his reach.There
were probably half a dozen present who knew of his blindness, but not a
word was said until all the extras were chosen and the culling out of
the overplus of the various remudas began.It started in snickers, and
before the cutting back was over developed into peals of laughter, as
man after man learned that the dapple gray in Tolleston’s remuda was
blind.Among the very last to become acquainted with the fact was the trail
foreman himself. After watching the horse long enough to see his
mistake, Tolleston culled the gray back and rode into the herd to claim
another.But the drover promptly summoned his foreman out, and, as they
met, Lovell said to his trail boss, “Arch, you’re no better than
anybody else. I bought that gray and paid my good money for him.No
doubt but the man who sold him has laughed about it often since, and if
ever we meet, I’ll take my hat off and compliment him on being the only
person who ever sold me a moon-eyed horse.I’m still paying my tuition,
and you needn’t flare up when the laugh’s on you.You have a good
remuda without him, and the only way you can get another horse out of
that herd is with the permission of Quince Forrest and Tom Quirk.”
“Well, if the permission of those new foremen is all I lack, then I’ll
cut all the horses I want,” retorted Tolleston, and galloped back
towards the herd.But Quince and I were after him like a flash,
followed leisurely by Lovell. As he slacked his mount to enter the mass
of animals, I passed him, jerking the bridle reins from his hand.Throwing my horse on his haunches, I turned just as Forrest slapped
Tolleston on the back, and said: “Look-ee here, Arch; just because
you’re a little hot under the collar, don’t do anything brash, for fear
you may regret it afterward.I’m due to take a little pasear myself
this summer, and I always did like to be well mounted. Now, don’t get
your back up or attempt to stand up any bluffs, for I can whip you in
any sized circle you can name. You never saw me burn powder, did you?Well, just you keep on acting the d—— fool if you want a little smoke
thrown in your face. Just fool with me and I’ll fog you till you look
like an angel in the clouds.”
But old man Don reached us, and raised his hand.I threw the reins back
over the horse’s head. Tolleston was white with rage, but before he
could speak our employer waved us aside and said, “Tom, you and Quince
clear right out of here and I’ll settle this matter. Arch, there’s your
remuda.Take it and go about your business or say you don’t want to. Now, we know each other, and I’ll not mince or repeat any words with
you. Go on.”
“Not an inch will I move until I get another horse,” hissed Tolleston
between gasps.“If it lies between you and me, then I’ll have one in
place of that gray, or you’ll get another foreman. Now, you have my
terms and ticket.”
“Very well then, Archie; that changes the programme entirely,” replied
Lovell, firmly.“You’ll find your private horse in the small pasture,
and we’ll excuse you for the summer. Whenever a man in my employ gets
the impression that I can’t get along without him, that moment he
becomes useless to me.It seems that you are bloated with that idea,
and a season’s rest and quiet may cool you down and make a useful man
of you again. Remember that you’re always welcome at my ranch, and
don’t let this make us strangers,” he called back as he turned away.Riding over with us to where a group were sitting on their horses, our
employer scanned the crowd without saying a word.Turning halfway in
his saddle, he looked over towards Flood’s remuda and said: “One of you
boys please ride over and tell Paul I want him.” During the rather
embarrassing interim, the conversation instantly changed, and we
borrowed tobacco and rolled cigarettes to kill time.Priest was rather slow in making his appearance, riding leisurely, but
on coming up innocently inquired of his employer, “Did you want to see
me?”
“Yes. Paul, I’ve just lost one of my foremen.I need a good reliable
man to take a herd to Fort Washakie. It’s an Indian agency on the head
waters of the North Platte in Wyoming. Will you tackle the job?”
“A good soldier is always subject to orders,” replied The Rebel with a
military salute.“If you have a herd for delivery in Wyoming, give me
the men and horses, and I’ll put the cattle there if possible.You are
the commandant in the field, and I am subject to instructions.”
“There’s your remuda and outfit, then,” said Lovell, pointing to the
one intended for Tolleston, “and you’ll get a commissary at the ranch
and go into camp this evening.You’ll get your herd in Nueces County,
and Jim will assist in the receiving. Any other little details will all
be arranged before you get away.”
Calling for all the men in Tolleston’s outfit, the two rode away for
that remuda.Shortly before the trouble arose, our employer instructed
those with the Buford cattle to take ten extra horses for each herd. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
There were now over a hundred and forty head to be culled back, and
Sponsilier was entitled to ten of them.In order to be sure of our
numbers, we counted the remaining band, and Forrest and I trimmed them
down to two hundred and fifty-four head.As this number was too small
to be handled easily in the open, we decided to take them into the
corrals for the final division.After the culling back was over, and
everything had started for the ranch, to oblige Sponsilier, I remained
behind and helped him to retrim his remuda.Unless one knew the horses
personally, it was embarrassing even to try and pick ten of the best
ones from the overplus.But I knew many of them at first hand, and at
Dave’s request, after picking out the extra ones, continued selecting
others in exchange for horses in his old band.We spent nearly an hour
cutting back and forth, or until we were both satisfied that his saddle
stock could not be improved from the material at hand. The ranch headquarters were fully six miles from the round-up.Leaving
Sponsilier delighted with the change in his remuda, I rode to overtake
the undivided band which were heading for the ranch corrals.On coming
up with them, Forrest proposed that we divide the horses by a running
cut in squads of ten, and toss for choice.Once they were in the
corrals, this could have been easily done by simply opening a gate and
allowing blocks of ten to pass alternately from the main into smaller
inclosures.But I was expecting something like this from Quince, and
had entirely different plans of my own. Forrest and I were good
friends, but he was a foxy rascal, and I had never wavered in my
determination to get the pick of that horse herd.Had I accepted his
proposal, the chance of a spinning coin might have given him a decided
advantage, and I declined his proposition. I had a remuda in sight that
my very being had hungered for, and now I would take no chance of
losing it.But on the other hand, I proposed to Forrest that he might
have the assistance of two men in Flood’s outfit who had accompanied
the horse herd home from Dodge.In the selecting of Jim’s extra
twenty-five, the opinion of these two lads, as the chosen horses
proved, was a decided help to their foreman. But Quince stood firm, and
arguing the matter, we reached the corrals and penned the band.The two top bunches were held separate and were left a mile back on the
prairie, under herd. The other remudas were all in sight of the ranch,
while a majority of the men were eating a late dinner.Still contending
for his point, Forrest sent a lad to the house to ask our employer to
come over to the corrals. On his appearance, accompanied by Flood, each
of us stated our proposition.“Well, the way I size this up,” said old man Don, “one of you wants to
rely on his own judgment and the other don’t. It looks to me, Quince,
you want a gambler’s chance where you can’t lose. Tom’s willing to bank
on his own judgment, but you ain’t.Now, I like a man who does his own
thinking, and to give you a good lesson in that line, why, divide them,
horse and horse, turn about.Now, I’ll spin this coin for first pick,
and while it’s in the air, Jim will call the turn.... Tom wins first
choice.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Lovell,” said Quince, smilingly.“I just got the
idea that you wanted the remudas for the Buford herds to be equally
good. How can you expect it when Tom knows every horse and I never
saddled one of them.Give me the same chance, and I might know them as
well as the little boy knew his pap.”
“You had the same chance,” I put in, “but didn’t want it. You were
offered the Pine Ridge horses last year to take back to Dodge, and you
kicked like a bay steer.But I swallowed their dust to the Arkansaw,
and from there home we lived in clouds of alkali.You went home drunk
and dressed up, with a cigar in your mouth and your feet through the
car window, claiming you was a brother-in-law to Jay Gould, and simply
out on a tour of inspection.Now you expect me to give you the benefit
of my experience and rob myself. Not this summer, John Quincy.”
But rather than let Forrest feel that he was being taken advantage of,
I repeated my former proposition.Accepting it as a last resort, the
two boys were sent for and the dividing commenced.Remounting our
horses, we entered the large corral, and as fast as they were selected
the different outfits were either roped or driven singly through a
guarded gate.It took over an hour of dusty work to make the division,
but when it was finished I had a remuda of a hundred and fifty-two
saddle horses that would make a man willing to work for his board and
the privilege of riding them.Turning out of the corrals, Priest and I
accompanied the horses out on the prairie where our toppy ones were
being grazed. Paul was tickled over my outfit of saddle stock, but gave
me several hints that he was entitled to another picked mount.I
attempted to explain that he had a good remuda, but he still insisted,
and I promised him if he would be at my wagon the next morning when we
corralled, he should have a good one. I could well afford to be
generous with my old bunkie.There now only remained the apportionment of the work-stock. Four mules
were allowed to the wagon, and in order to have them in good condition
they had been grain-fed for the past month.In their allotment the
Buford herds were given the best teams, and when mine was pointed out
by my employer, the outfit assisted the cook to harness in.Giving him
instructions to go into camp on a creek three miles south of
headquarters, my wagon was the second one to get away.Some of the
teams bolted at the start, and only for timely assistance Sponsilier’s
commissary would have been overturned in the sand. Two of the wagons
headed west for Uvalde, while my brother Bob’s started southeast for
Bee County.The other two belonging to Flood and The Rebel would camp
on the same creek as mine, their herds being also south. Once the
wagons were off, the saddle stock was brought in and corralled for our
first mounts.The final allotment of horses to the men would not take
place until the herds were ready to be received, and until then, they
would be ridden uniformly but promiscuously.With instructions from our
employer to return to the ranch after making camp, the remudas were
started after the wagons. On our return after darkness, the ranch was as deserted as a
school-house on Saturday.A Mexican cook and a few regular ranch hands
were all that were left. Archie Tolleston had secured his horse and
quit headquarters before any one had even returned from the round-up.When the last of the foremen came in, our employer delivered his final
messages. “Boys,” said he, “I’ll only detain you a few minutes. I’m
going west in the morning to Uvalde County, and will be present at the
receiving of Quince and Dave’s herds.After they start, I’ll come back
to the city and take stage to Oakville. But you go right ahead and
receive your cattle, Bob, for we don’t know what may turn up. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Flood
will help Tom first, and then Paul, to receive their cattle.That will
give the Buford herds the first start, and I’ll be waiting for you at
Abilene when you reach there.And above all else, boys, remember that
I’ve strained my credit in this drive, and that the cattle must be A 1,
and that we must deliver them on the spot in prime condition.Now,
that’s all, but you’d better be riding so as to get an early start in
the morning.”
Our employer walked with us to the outer gate where our horses stood at
the hitch-rack.That he was reticent in his business matters was well
known among all his old foremen, including Forrest and myself. If he
had a confidant among his men, Jim Flood was the man—and there were a
few things he did not know.As we mounted our horses to return to our
respective camps, old man Don quietly took my bridle reins in hand and
allowed the others to ride away. “I want a parting word with you, Tom,”
said he a moment later.“Something has happened to-day which will
require the driving of the Buford herds in some road brand other than
the ‘Circle Dot.’ The first blacksmith shop you pass, have your irons
altered into ‘Open A’s,’ and I’ll do the same with Quince and Dave’s
brands.Of the why or wherefore of this, say nothing to any one, as no
one but myself knows. Don’t breathe a word even to Flood, for he don’t
know any more than he should. When the time comes, if it ever does,
you’ll know all that is necessary—or nothing.That’s all.”
CHAPTER III. RECEIVING AT LOS LOBOS
The trip to Lasalle County was mere pastime. All three of the outfits
kept in touch with each other, camping far enough apart to avoid any
conflict in night-herding the remudas.The only incident to mar the
pleasure of the outing was the discovery of ticks in many of our
horses’ ears.The pasture in which they had wintered was somewhat
brushy, and as there had been no frost to kill insect life, myriads of
seed-ticks had dropped from the mesquite thickets upon the animals when
rubbing against or passing underneath them.As the inner side of a
horse’s ear is both warm and tender, that organ was frequently infested
with this pest, whose ravages often undermined the supporting
cartilages and produced the drooping or “gotch” ear.In my remuda over
one half the horses were afflicted with ticks, and many of them it was
impossible to bridle, owing to the inflamed condition of their ears.Fortunately we had with us some standard preparations for blistering,
so, diluting this in axle-grease, we threw every animal thus affected
and thoroughly swabbed his ears.On reaching the Nueces River, near the
western boundary of Lasalle County, the other two outfits continued on
down that stream for their destination in the lower country.Flood
remained behind with me, and going into camp on the river with my
outfit, the two of us rode over to Los Lobos Ranch and announced
ourselves as ready to receive the cattle.Dr. Beaver, the seller of the
herd, was expecting us, and sending word of our arrival to neighboring
cowmen, we looked over the corrals before returning to camp.They had
built a new branding-chute and otherwise improved their facilities for
handling cattle.The main inclosure had been built of heavy palisades
in an early day, but recently several of smaller sized lumber had been
added, making the most complete corrals I had ever seen.An abundance
of wood was at hand for heating the branding-irons, and every little
detail to facilitate the work had been provided for.Giving notice that
we would receive every morning on the open prairie only, we declined an
invitation to remain at the ranch and returned to my wagon. In the valley the grass was well forward.We had traveled only some
twenty miles a day coming down, and our horses had fared well. But as
soon as we received any cattle, night-herding the remuda would cease,
and we must either hobble or resort to other measures.John Levering
was my horse-wrangler. He had made two trips over the trail with Fant’s
herds in the same capacity, was careful, humane, and an all-round
horseman. In employing a cook, I had given the berth to Neal Parent, an
old boyhood chum of mine.He never amounted to much as a cow-hand, but
was a lighthearted, happy fool; and as cooking did not require much
sense, I gave him the chance to make his first trip.Like a court
jester, he kept the outfit in fine spirits and was the butt of all
jokes. In entertaining company he was in a class by himself, and spoke
with marked familiarity of all the prominent cowmen in southern Texas.To a stranger the inference might be easily drawn that Lovell was in
his employ. As we were expecting to receive cattle on the third day, the next
morning the allotment of horses was made.The usual custom of giving
the foreman first choice was claimed, and I cut twelve of solid colors
but not the largest ones. Taking turns, the outfit roped out horse
after horse until only the ten extra ones were left.In order that
these should bear a fair share in the work, I took one of them for a
night-horse and allotted the others to the second, third, and last
guard in a similar capacity.This gave the last three watches two
horses apiece for night work, but with the distinct understanding that
in case of accident or injury to any horse in the remuda, they could be
recalled.There was little doubt that before the summer ended, they
would be claimed to fill vacancies in the regular mounts.Flood had
kept behind only two horses with which to overtake the other outfits,
and during his stay with us would ride these extras and loans from my
mount. The entire morning was spent working with the remuda.Once a man knew
his mount, extra attention was shown each horse. There were witches’
bridles to be removed from their manes, extra long tails were thinned
out to the proper length, and all hoofs trimmed short.The horses were
fast shedding their winter coats, matting the saddle blankets with
falling hair, and unless carefully watched, galled backs would result.The branding-irons had been altered en route, and about noon a vaquero
came down the river and reported that the second round-up of the day
would meet just over the county line in Dimmit.He belonged at Los
Lobos, and reported the morning rodeo as containing over five hundred
beeves, which would be ready for delivery at our pleasure. We made him
remain for dinner, after which Flood and I saddled up and returned with
him.We reached the round-up just as the cutting-out finished. They
were a fine lot of big rangy beeves, and Jim suggested that we pass
upon them at once.The seller agreed to hold them overnight, and Flood
and I culled back about one hundred and twenty which were under age or
too light. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
The round-up outfit strung the cattle out and counted them,
reporting a few over seven hundred head.This count was merely informal
and for the information of the seller; but in the morning the final one
would be made, in which we could take a hand.After the cut had started in for the ranch, we loitered along, looking
them over, and I noticed several that might have been thrown out. “Well, now,” said Flood, “if you are going to be so very choice as all
that, I might as well ride on.You can’t use me if that bunch needs any
more trimming. I call them a fine lot of beeves. It’s all right for Don
to rib the boys up and make them think that the cattle have to be
top-notchers.I’ve watched him receive too often; he’s about the
easiest man I know to ring in short ages on. Just so a steer looks
nice, it’s hard for the old man to turn one back.I’ve seen him
receiving three-year-olds, when one fourth of the cattle passed on were
short twos.And if you call his attention to one, he’ll just smile that
little smile of his, and say, ‘yes, he may be shy a few months, but
he’ll grow.’ But then that’s just old man Don’s weakness for cattle; he
can’t look a steer in the face without falling in love with him.Now,
I’ve received before when by throwing out one half the stock offered,
you couldn’t get as uniform a bunch of beeves as those are. But you go
right ahead, Tom, and be sure that every hoof you accept will dress
five hundred pounds at Fort Buford.I’ll simply sit around and clerk
and help you count and give you a good chance to make a reputation.”
Los Lobos was still an open range. They claimed to have over ten
thousand mixed cattle in the straight ranch brand.There had been no
demand for matured beeves for several years, and now on effecting this
sale they were anxious to deliver all their grown steers.Dr. Beaver
informed us that, previous to our arrival, his foreman had been
throwing everything in on the home range, and that he hoped to deliver
to us over two thousand head from his own personal holdings.But he was
liberal with his neighbors, for in the contingent just passed upon,
there must have been over a hundred head in various ranch brands.Assuring him that we would be on hand in the morning to take possession
of the cattle, and requesting him to have a fire burning, on coming
opposite the camp, we turned off and rode for our wagon.It meant a big
day’s work to road-brand this first contingent, and with the first sign
of dawn, my outfit were riding for Los Lobos.We were encamped about
three miles from the corrals, and leaving orders for the cook to follow
up, the camp was abandoned with the exception of the remuda. It was
barely sun-up when we counted and took possession of the beeves.On
being relieved, the foreman of Los Lobos took the ranch outfit and
started off to renew the gathering. We penned the cattle without any
trouble, and as soon as the irons were ready, a chuteful were run in
and the branding commenced.This branding-chute was long enough to
chamber eight beeves. It was built about a foot wide at the bottom and
flared upward just enough to prevent an animal from turning round.A
heavy gate closed the exit, while bull-bars at the rear prevented the
occupant from backing out. A high platform ran along either side of the
branding-chute, on which the men stood while handling the irons. Two men did the branding.“Runt” Pickett attended the fire, passing up
the heated irons, and dodging the cold branding-steel. A single iron
was often good for several animals, and sometimes a chuteful was
branded with two irons.It was necessary that the work should be well
done; not that a five months’ trip required it, but the unforeseen must
be guarded against.Many trail herds had met disaster and been
scattered to the four winds with nothing but a road brand to identify
them afterward. The cattle were changing owners, and custom decreed
that an abstract of title should be indelibly seared on their sides.The first guard, Jake Blair, Morg Tussler, and Clay Zilligan, were
detailed to cut and drive the squads into the chute. These three were
the only mounted men, the others being placed so as to facilitate the
work.Cattle are as innocent as they are strong, and in this necessary
work everything was done quietly, care being taken to prevent them from
becoming excited.As fast as they were released from the chute, Dr.
Beaver took a list of the ranch brands, in order to bill of sale them
to Lovell and settle with his neighbors. The work moved with alacrity. As one chuteful was being freed the next
one was entering.Gates closed in their faces and the bull-bars at the
rear locked them as in a vice. We were averaging a hundred an hour, but
the smoke from the burning hair was offensive to the lungs.During the
forenoon Burl Van Vedder and Vick Wolf “spelled” Flood and myself for
half an hour at a time, or until we could recover from the nauseous
fumes. When the cook called us to dinner, we had turned out nearly five
hundred branded cattle.No sooner was the midday meal bolted than the
cook was ordered back to camp with his wagon, the branded contingent of
cattle following in charge of the first guard.Less than half an hour
was lost in refreshing the inner man, and ordering “G—G” Cederdall, Tim
Stanley, and Jack Splann of the second guard into their saddles to take
the place of the relieved men, we resumed our task.The dust of the
corrals settled on us unheeded, the smoke of the fire mingled with that
of the singeing hair and its offensive odors, bringing tears to our
eyes, but the work never abated until the last steer had passed the
chute and bore the “Open A.”
The work over, a pretense was made at washing the dust and grime from
our faces.It was still early in the day, and starting the cattle for
camp, I instructed the boys to water and graze them as long as they
would stand up.The men all knew their places on guard, this having
been previously arranged; and joining Dr. Beaver, Jim and I rode for
the ranch about a mile distant.The doctor was a genial host, and
prescribed a series of mint-juleps, after which he proposed that we
ride out and meet the cattle gathered during the day.The outfit had
been working a section of country around some lagoons, south of the
ranch, and it was fully six o’clock when we met them, heading homeward.The cattle were fully up to the standard of the first bunch, and
halting the herd we trimmed them down and passed on them. After Flood
rode out of this second contingent, I culled back about a dozen light
weights.On finishing, Jim gave me a quiet wink, and said something to
Dr. Beaver about a new broom. But I paid no attention to these remarks;
in a country simply teeming with prime beeves, I was determined to get
a herd to my liking.Dr. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Beaver had assured Lovell that he and his
neighbors would throw together over four thousand beeves in making up
the herd, and now I was perfectly willing that they should.It would
take two days longer to gather the cattle on the Los Lobos range, and
then there were the outside offerings, which were supposed to number
fully two thousand. There was no excuse for not being choice.On returning to Los Lobos about dusk, rather than offend its owner,
Flood consented to remain at the ranch overnight, but I rode for camp.Darkness had fallen on my reaching the wagon, the herd had been bedded
down, and Levering felt so confident that the remuda was contented that
he had concluded to night-herd them himself until midnight, and then
turn them loose until dawn.He had belled a couple of the leaders, and
assured me that he would have them in hand before sun-up. The cook was
urging me to supper, but before unsaddling, I rode around both herd and
remuda.The cattle were sleeping nicely, and the boys assured me that
they had got a splendid fill on them before bedding down.That was the
only safe thing to do, and after circling the saddle stock on the
opposite side of camp, I returned to find that a stranger had arrived
during my brief absence.Parent had fully enlightened him as to who he
was, who the outfit were, the destination of the herd, the names of
both buyer and seller, and, on my riding in, was delivering a voluble
dissertation on the tariff and the possible effect on the state of
putting hides on the free list.And although in cow-camps a soldier’s
introduction is usually sufficient, the cook inquired the stranger’s
name and presented me to our guest with due formality.Supper being
waiting, the stranger was invited to take pot-luck with us, and before
the meal was over recognized me. He was a deputy cattle inspector for
Dimmit County, and had issued the certificate for Flood’s herd the year
before.He had an eye for the main chance, and informed me that fully
one half the cattle making up our herd belonged to Dimmit; that the
county line was only a mile up the river, and that if I would allow the
herd to drift over into his territory, he would shade the legal rate.The law compelling the inspection of herds before they could be moved
out of the county, like the rain, fell upon the just and the unjust. It
was not the intent of the law to impose a burden on an honest drover.Yet he was classed with the rustler, and must have in his possession a
certificate of inspection before he could move out a purchased herd, or
be subject to arrest.A list of brands was recorded, at the county
seat, of every herd leaving, and if occasion required could be referred
to in future years.No railroad would receive any consignment of hides
or live stock, unless accompanied by a certificate from the county
inspector.The legal rate was ten cents on the first hundred, and three
cents on all over that number, frequently making the office a lucrative
one. Once the object of his call was made clear, I warmed to our guest.If
the rate allowed by law was enforced, it meant an expense of over a
hundred dollars for a certificate of inspection covering both herd and
saddle stock. We did not take out certificates in Medina on the remudas
as a matter of economy.By waiting until the herd was ready, the two
would be inspected as one, and the lower rate apply. So I urged the
deputy to make himself at home and share my blankets.Pretending that I
remembered him well, I made numerous inquiries about the ranch where we
received our herd the year before, and by the time to turn in, we were
on the most friendly terms.The next morning I offered him a horse from
our extras, assuring him that Flood would be delighted to renew his
acquaintance, and invited him to go with us for the day. Turning his
horse among ours, he accepted and rode away with us.The cattle passed
on the evening before had camped out several miles from the corrals and
were grazing in when we met them. Flood and the Doctor joined us
shortly afterward, and I had a quiet word with Jim before he and the
inspector met.After the count was over, Flood made a great ado over my
guest and gave him the glad hand as if he had been a long-lost brother.We were a trifle short-handed the second day, and on my guest
volunteering to help, I assigned him to Runt Pickett’s place at the
fire, where he shortly developed a healthy sweat.As we did not have a
large bunch of beeves to brand that day, the wagon did not come over
and we branded them at a single shift.It was nearly one o’clock when
we finished, and instead of going in to Los Lobos, we left the third
guard, Wayne Outcault, “Dorg” Seay, and Owen Ubery, to graze the cattle
over to our camp.The remainder of the afternoon was spent in idleness and in the
entertainment of our guest. Official-like, he pretended he could hardly
spare the time to remain another night, but was finally prevailed on
and did so.After dark, I took him some distance from camp, and the two
of us had a confidential chat. I assured him if there was any object in
doing so, we could move camp right to or over the county line, and
frankly asked him what inducement he would offer.At first he thought
that throwing off everything over a hundred dollars would be about
right.But I assured him that there were whole families of inspectors
in Lasalle County who would discount that figure, and kindly advised
him, if he really wanted the fee, to meet competition at least.We
discussed the matter at length, and before returning to camp, he
offered to make out the certificate, covering everything, for fifty
dollars.As it was certain to be several days yet before we would
start, and there was a prospect of a falling market in certificates of
inspection, I would make no definite promises.The next morning I
insisted that he remain at some near-by ranch in his own territory,
and, if convenient, ride down every few days and note the progress of
the herd. We were promised a large contingent of cattle for that day.The ranch
outfit were to make three rodeos down the river the day before, where
the bulk of their beeves ranged.Flood was anxious to overtake the
other outfits before they reached the lower country, and as he assured
me I had no further use for him, we agreed that after receiving that
morning he might leave us.Giving orders at camp to graze the received
beeves within a mile of the corrals by noon, and the wagon to follow,
we made an early start, Flood taking his own horses with him. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
We met
the cattle coming up the river a thousand strong.It was late when the
last round-up of the day before had finished, and they had camped for
the night fully five miles from the corrals.It took less than an hour
to cull back and count, excuse the ranch outfit, and start this
contingent for the branding-pens in charge of my boys.Flood was in a
hurry, and riding a short distance with him, I asked that he pass or
send word to the county seat, informing the inspector of hides and
animals that a trail herd would leave Los Lobos within a week.Jim knew
my motive in getting competition on the inspection, and wishing me luck
on my trip, I wrung his hand in farewell until we should meet again in
the upper country.The sun was setting that night when we finished road-branding the last
of the beeves received in the morning. After dinner, when the wagon
returned to camp, I instructed Parent to move up the river fully a
mile.We needed the change, anyhow, and even if it was farther, the
next morning we would have the Los Lobos outfit to assist in the
branding, as that day would finish their gathering.The outside cattle
were beginning to report in small bunches, from three hundred upward. Knowing that Dr. Beaver was anxious to turn in as many as possible of
his own, we delayed receiving from the neighboring ranches for another
day.But the next morning, as we were ironing-up the last contingent of
some four hundred Los Lobos beeves, a deputy inspector for Lasalle
arrived from the county seat.He was likewise officious, and professed
disappointment that the herd was not ready to pass upon. On his
arrival, I was handling the irons, and paid no attention to him until
the branding was over for the morning.When he introduced himself, I
cordially greeted him, but at the first intimation of disappointment
from his lips, I checked him.Using the best diplomacy at my command, I said, “Well, I’m sorry to
cause you this long ride when it might have been avoided. You see, we
are receiving cattle from both this and Dimmit County.In fact, we are
holding our herd across the line just at present. On starting, we
expect to go up the river to the first creek, and north on it to the
Leona River. I have partially promised the work to an inspector from
Dimmit.He inspected our herd last year, and being a personal friend
that way, you couldn’t meet his figures.Very sorry to disappoint you,
but won’t you come over to the wagon and stay all night?”
But Dr. Beaver, who understood my motive, claimed the privilege of
entertaining the deputy at Los Lobos, and I yielded.We now had a few
over twenty-four hundred beeves, of which nineteen hundred were in the
Los Lobos brand, the others being mixed.There was a possibility of
fully a hundred more coming in with the neighboring cattle, and Dr.
Beaver was delighted over the ranch delivery.The outside contingents
were in four bunches, then encamped in different directions and within
from three to five miles of the ranch.Taking Vick Wolf with me for the
afternoon, I looked over the separate herds and found them numbering
more than fifteen hundred.They were the same uniform Nueces Valley
cattle, and as we lacked only a few over a thousand, the offerings were
extremely liberal.Making arrangements with three of the four herds to
receive the next day, Vick and I reached our camp on the county line
about sunset.The change was a decided advantage; wood, water, and
grass were plentiful, and not over a mile farther from the
branding-pens. The next morning found us in our saddles at the usual early hour.We
were anxious to receive and brand every animal possible that day, so
that with a few hours’ work the next forenoon the herd would be ready
to start.After we had passed on the first contingent of the outside
cattle, and as we were nearing the corrals, Dr. Beaver overtook us.Calling me aside, he said: “Quirk, if you play your cards right, you’ll
get a certificate of inspection for nothing and a chromo as a pelon.I’ve bolstered up the Lasalle man that he’s better entitled to the work
than the Dimmit inspector, and he’ll wait until the herd is ready to
start. Now, you handle the one, and I’ll keep the other as my guest.We
must keep them apart and let them buck each other to their hearts’
content. Every hoof in your herd will be in a ranch brand of record;
but still the law demands inspection and you must comply with it.I’ll
give you a duplicate list of the brands, so that neither inspector need
see the herd, and if we don’t save your employer a hundred dollars,
then we are amateurs.”
Everything was pointing to an auspicious start.The last cattle on the
delivery were equal to the first, if not better. The sky clouded over,
and before noon a light shower fell, settling the dust in the corrals.Help increased as the various bunches were accepted, and at the end of
the day only a few over two hundred remained to complete our numbers.The last contingent were fully up to the standard; and rather than
disappoint the sellers, I accepted fifty head extra, making my herd at
starting thirty-four hundred and fifty.When the last beef had passed
the branding-chute, there was nothing remaining but to give a receipt
to the seller for the number of head received, in behalf of my
employer, pending a later settlement between them.Meanwhile competition in the matter of inspection had been carefully
nursed. Conscious of each other’s presence, and both equally anxious
for the fee, the one deputy was entertained at my camp and the other at
Los Lobos.They were treated courteously, but given to understand that
in the present instance money talked.With but a small bunch of beeves
to brand on the starting day, the direction in which the herd was
allowed to leave the bed-ground would be the final answer.If west,
Dimmit had underbid Lasalle; if the contrary, then the departure of
this herd would be a matter of record in the latter county. Dr. Beaver
enjoyed the situation hugely, acting the intermediary in behalf of his
guest.Personally I was unconcerned, but was neutral and had little to
say. My outfit understood the situation perfectly.Before retiring on the
night of our last camp on the county line, and in the presence of the
Dimmit inspector, the last relief received instructions, in the absence
of contrary orders, to allow the herd to drift back into Lasalle in the
morning.Matters were being conducted in pantomime, and the players
understood their parts. Our guest had made himself useful in various
ways, and I naturally felt friendly towards him.He had stood several
guards for the boys, and Burl Van Vedder, of the last watch, had secret
instructions to call him for that guard. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
The next morning the camp was not astir as early as usual.On the
cook’s arousing us, in the uncertain light of dawn, the herd was slowly
rising, and from the position of a group of four horsemen, it was
plainly evident that our guest had shaded all competition.Our camp was
in plain view of Los Lobos, and only some five or six miles distant.With the rising of the sun, and from the top of a windmill derrick, by
the aid of a field-glass, the Lasalle inspector had read his answer;
and after the work in the morning was over, and the final papers had
been exchanged, Dr. Beaver insisted that, in commiseration of his
departed guest, just one more mint-julep should be drunk standing.When Don Lovell glanced over my expense account on our arrival at
Abilene, he said: “Look here, Tom, is this straight?—twenty dollars for
inspection?—the hell you say! Corrupted them, did you?Well, that’s the
cheapest inspection I ever paid, with one exception. Dave Sponsilier
once got a certificate for his herd for five dollars and a few drinks. But he paid for it a month in advance of the starting of the herd.It
was dated ahead, properly sealed, and all ready for filling in the
brands and numbers. The herd was put up within a mile of where four
counties cornered, and that inspector was a believer in the maxim of
the early bird.The office is a red-tape one, anyhow, and little harm
in taking all the advantage you can.—This item marked ‘sundries’ was
DRY goods, I suppose? All right, Quirk; I reckon rattlesnakes were
rather rabid this spring.”
CHAPTER IV.MINGLING WITH THE EXODUS
By noon the herd had grazed out five miles on its way. The boys were so
anxious to get off that on my return the camp was deserted with the
exception of the cook and the horse-wrangler, none even returning for
dinner.Before leaving I had lunched at Los Lobos with its owner, and
on reaching the wagon, Levering and I assisted the cook to harness in
and start the commissary.The general course of the Nueces River was
southeast by northwest, and as our route lay on the latter angle, the
herd would follow up the valley for the first day.Once outside the
boundaries of our camp of the past week, the grass matted the ground
with its rank young growth. As far as the eye could see, the mesas,
clothed in the verdure of spring, rolled in long swells away to the
divides.Along the river and in the first bottom, the timber and
mesquite thickets were in leaf and blossom, while on the outlying
prairies the only objects which dotted this sea of green were range
cattle and an occasional band of horses.The start was made on the 27th of March. By easy drives and within a
week, we crossed the “Sunset” Railway, about thirty miles to the
westward of the ranch in Medina.On reaching the divide between the
Leona and Frio rivers, we sighted our first herd of trail cattle,
heading northward.We learned that some six herds had already passed
upward on the main Frio, while a number of others were reported as
having taken the east fork of that river.The latter stream almost
paralleled the line between Medina and Uvalde counties, and as we
expected some word from headquarters, we crossed over to the east fork.When westward of and opposite the ranch, Runt Pickett was sent in for
any necessary orders that might be waiting. By leaving us early in the
evening he could reach headquarters that night and overtake us before
noon the next day.We grazed leisurely forward the next morning,
killing as much time as possible, and Pickett overtook us before the
wagon had even gone into camp for dinner.Lovell had not stopped on his
return from the west, but had left with the depot agent at the home
station a letter for the ranch.From its contents we learned that the
other two Buford herds had started from Uvalde, Sponsilier in the lead,
one on the 24th and the other the following day.Local rumors were
encouraging in regard to grass and water to the westward, and the
intimation was clear that if favorable reports continued, the two
Uvalde herds would intersect an old trail running from the head of
Nueces Canon to the Llano River.Should they follow this route there
was little hope of their coming into the main western trail before
reaching the Colorado River.Sponsilier was a daring fellow, and if
there was a possible chance to get through beyond the borders of any
settlement, he was certain to risk it. The letter contained no personal advice.Years of experience in trail
matters had taught my employer that explicit orders were often harmful.The emergencies to be met were of such a varied nature that the best
method was to trust to an outfit worming its way out of any situation
which confronted it.From the information disclosed, it was evident
that the other Buford herds were then somewhere to the northwest, and
possibly over a hundred miles distant.Thus freed from any restraint,
we held a due northward course for several days, or until we
encountered some rocky country. Water was plentiful and grass fairly
good, but those flinty hills must be avoided or sorefooted beeves would
be the result.I had seen trails of blood left by cattle from sandy
countries on encountering rock, and now the feet of ours were a second
consideration to their stomachs.But long before the herd reached this
menace, Morg Tussler and myself, scouting two full days in advance,
located a safe route to the westward.Had we turned to the other hand,
we should have been forced into the main trail below Fredericksburg,
and we preferred the sea-room of the boundless plain.From every
indication and report, this promised to be the banner year in the
exodus of cattle from the South to the then new Northwest.This latter
section was affording the long-looked-for outlet, by absorbing the
offerings of cattle which came up from Texas over the trail, and
marking an epoch barely covering a single decade.Turning on a western angle, a week’s drive brought us out on a high
tableland. Veering again to the north, we snailed along through a
delightful country, rich in flora and the freshness of the season.From
every possible elevation, we scanned the west in the hope of sighting
some of the herd which had followed up the main Frio, but in vain.Sweeping northward at a leisurely gait, the third week out we sighted
the Blue Mountains, the first familiar landmark on our course. As the
main western trail skirted its base on the eastward, our position was
easily established.So far the cattle were well behaved, not a run, and only a single
incident occurring worth mention. About half an hour before dawn one
morning, the cook aroused the camp with the report that the herd was
missing.The beeves had been bedded within two hundred yards of the
wagon, and the last watch usually hailed the rekindling of the cook’s
fire as the first harbinger of day.But on this occasion the absence of
the usual salutations from the bed-ground aroused Parent’s suspicion. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Two days later we came into the main trail at the crossing of the
Colorado River.Before we reached it, several ominous dust-clouds hung
on our right for hours, while beyond the river were others, indicating
the presence of herds.Summer weather had already set in, and during
the middle of the day the glare of heat-waves and mirages obstructed
our view of other wayfarers like ourselves, but morning and evening we
were never out of sight of their signals.The banks of the river at the
ford were trampled to the level of the water, while at both approach
and exit the ground was cut into dust. On our arrival, the stage of
water was favorable, and we crossed without a halt of herd, horses, or
commissary.But there was little inducement to follow the old trail. Washed into ruts by the seasons, the grass on either side eaten away
for miles, there was a look of desolation like that to be seen in the
wake of an army.As we felt under obligations to touch at Abilene
within a few days, there was a constant skirmish for grass within a
reasonable distance of the trail; and we were early, fully two thirds
of the drive being in our rear.One sultry morning south of Buffalo
Gap, as we were grazing past the foot of Table Mountain, several of us
rode to the summit of that butte.From a single point of observation we
counted twelve herds within a space of thirty miles both south and
north, all moving in the latter direction. When about midway between the Gap and the railroad we were met at noon
one day by Don Lovell.This was his first glimpse of my herd, and his
experienced eye took in everything from a broken harness to the peeling
and legibility of the road brand.With me the condition of the cattle
was the first requisite, but the minor details as well as the more
important claimed my employer’s attention.When at last, after riding
with the herd for an hour, he spoke a few words of approbation on the
condition, weight, and uniformity of the beeves, I felt a load lifted
from my shoulders.That the old man was in a bad humor on meeting us
was evident; but as he rode along beside the cattle, lazy and large as
oxen, the cockles of his heart warmed and he grew sociable.Near the
middle of the afternoon, as we were in the rear, looking over the drag
steers, he complimented me on having the fewest tender-footed animals
of any herd that had passed Abilene since his arrival.Encouraged, I
ventured the double question as to how this one would average with the
other Buford herds, and did he know their whereabouts.As I recall his
reply, it was that all Nueces Valley cattle were uniform, and if there
was any difference it was due to carelessness in receiving.In regard
to the locality of the other herds, it was easily to be seen that he
was provoked about something. “Yes, I know where they are,” said he, snappishly, “but that’s all the
good it does me.They crossed the railroad, west, at Sweetwater, about
a week ago. I don’t blame Quince, for he’s just trailing along, half a
day behind Dave’s herd.But Sponsilier, knowing that I wanted to see
him, had the nerve to write me a postal card with just ten words on it,
saying that all was well and to meet him in Dodge.Tom, you don’t know
what a satisfaction it is to me to spend a day or so with each of the
herds. But those rascals didn’t pay any more attention to me than if I
was an old woman.There was some reason for it—sore-footed cattle, or
else they have skinned up their remudas and didn’t want me to see them. If I drive a hundred herds hereafter, Dave Sponsilier will stay at home
as far as I’m concerned.He may think it’s funny to slip past, but this
court isn’t indulging in any levity just at present.I fail to see the
humor in having two outfits with sixty-seven hundred cattle somewhere
between the Staked Plain and No-Man’s-Land, and unable to communicate
with them.And while my herds are all contracted, mature beeves have
broke from three to five dollars a head in price since these started,
and it won’t do to shout before we’re out of the woods.Those fool boys
don’t know that, and I can’t get near enough to tell them.”
I knew better than to ask further questions or offer any apologies for
others. My employer was naturally irritable, and his abuse or praise of
a foreman was to be expected.Previously and under the smile of
prosperity, I had heard him laud Sponsilier, and under an imaginary
shadow abuse Jim Flood, the most experienced man in his employ.Feeling
it was useless to pour oil on the present troubled waters, I excused
myself, rode back, and ordered the wagon to make camp ahead about four
miles on Elm Creek. We watered late in the afternoon, grazing thence
until time to bed the herd.When the first and second guards were
relieved to go in and catch night-horses and get their supper, my
employer remained behind with the cattle. While feeding during the
evening, we allowed the herd to scatter over a thousand acres.Taking
advantage of the loose order of the beeves, the old man rode back and
forth through them until approaching darkness compelled us to throw
them together on the bedground.Even after the first guard took charge,
the drover loitered behind, reluctant to leave until the last steer had
lain down; and all during the night, sharing my blankets, he awoke on
every change of guards, inquiring of the returning watch how the cattle
were sleeping.As we should easily pass Abilene before noon, I asked him as a favor
that he take the wagon in and get us sufficient supplies to last until
Red River was reached. But he preferred to remain behind with the herd,
and I went instead.This suited me, as his presence overawed my outfit,
who were delirious to see the town. There was no telling how long he
would have stayed with us, but my brother Bob’s herd was expected at
any time.Remaining with us a second night, something, possibly the
placidness of the cattle, mellowed the old man and he grew amiable with
the outfit, and myself in particular.At breakfast the next morning,
when I asked him if he was in a position to recommend any special
route, he replied:
“No, Tom, that rests with you.One thing’s certain; herds are going to
be dangerously close together on the regular trail which crosses Red
River at Doan’s. The season is early yet, but over fifty herds have
already crossed the Texas Pacific Railway.Allowing one half the herds
to start north of that line, it gives you a fair idea what to expect. When seven hundred thousand cattle left Texas two years ago, it was
considered the banner year, yet it won’t be a marker to this one.The
way prices are tumbling shows that the Northwest was bluffing when they
offered to mature all the cattle that Texas could breed for the next
fifty years.That’s the kind of talk that suits me, but last year there
were some forty herds unsold, which were compelled to winter in the
North. Not over half the saddle horses that came up the trail last
summer were absorbed by these Northern cowmen.Talk’s cheap, but it
takes money to buy whiskey. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Lots of these men are new ones at the
business and may lose fortunes. The banks are getting afraid of cattle
paper, and conditions are tightening.With the increased drive this
year, if the summer passes without a slaughter in prices, the Texas
drovers can thank their lucky stars.I’m not half as bright as I might
be, but this is one year that I’m smooth enough not to have unsold
cattle on the trail.”
The herd had started an hour before, and when the wagon was ready to
move, I rode a short distance with my employer.It was possible that he
had something to say of a confidential nature, for it was seldom that
he acted so discouraged when his every interest seemed protected by
contracts.But at the final parting, when we both had dismounted and
sat on the ground for an hour, he had disclosed nothing.On the
contrary, he even admitted that possibly it was for the best that the
other Buford herds had held a westward course and thus avoided the
crush on the main routes.The only intimation which escaped him was
when we had remounted and each started our way, he called me back and
said, “Tom, no doubt but you’ve noticed that I’m worried. Well, I am. I’d tell you in a minute, but I may be wrong in the matter.But I’ll
know before you reach Dodge, and then, if it’s necessary, you shall
know all. It’s nothing about the handling of the herds, for my foremen
have always considered my interests first. Keep this to yourself, for
it may prove a nightmare.But if it should prove true, then we must
stand together. Now, that’s all; mum’s the word until we meet. Drop me
a line if you get a chance, and don’t let my troubles worry you.”
While overtaking the herd, I mused over my employer’s last words.But
my brain was too muddy even to attempt to solve the riddle. The most
plausible theory that I could advance was that some friendly cowmen
were playing a joke on him, and that the old man had taken things too
seriously.Within a week the matter was entirely forgotten, crowded out
of mind by the demands of the hour. The next night, on the Clear Fork
of the Brazos, a stranger, attracted by our camp-fire, rode up to the
wagon.Returning from the herd shortly after his arrival, I recognized
in our guest John Blocker, a prominent drover.He informed us that he
and his associates had fifty-two thousand cattle on the trail, and that
he was just returning from overtaking two of their five lead herds.Knowing that he was a well-posted cowman on routes and sustenance,
having grown up on the trail, I gave him the best our camp afforded,
and in return I received valuable information in regard to the country
between our present location and Doan’s Crossing.He reported the
country for a hundred miles south of Red River as having had a dry,
backward spring, scanty of grass, and with long dry drives; and
further, that in many instances water for the herds would have to be
bought from those in control.The outlook was not to my liking. The next morning when I inquired of
our guest what he would advise me to do, his answer clearly covered the
ground. “Well, I’m not advising any one,” said he, “but you can draw
your own conclusions.The two herds of mine, which I overtook, have
orders to turn northeast and cross into the Nations at Red River
Station. My other cattle, still below, will all be routed by way of
Fort Griffin.Once across Red River, you will have the Chisholm Trail,
running through civilized tribes, and free from all annoyance of
blanket Indians.South of the river the grass is bound to be better
than on the western route, and if we have to buy water, we’ll have the
advantage of competition.”
With this summary of the situation, a decision was easily reached.The
Chisholm Trail was good enough for me. Following up the north side of
the Clear Fork, we passed about twenty miles to the west of Fort
Griffin. Constantly bearing east by north, a few days later we crossed
the main Brazos at a low stage of water.But from there to Red River
was a trial not to be repeated. Wire fences halted us at every turn. Owners of pastures refused permission to pass through. Lanes ran in the
wrong direction, and open country for pasturage was scarce.What we
dreaded most, lack of drink for the herd, was the least of our
troubles, necessity requiring its purchase only three or four times.And like a climax to a week of sore trials, when we were in sight of
Red River a sand and dust storm struck us, blinding both men and herd
for hours.The beeves fared best, for with lowered heads they turned
their backs to the howling gale, while the horsemen caught it on every
side. The cattle drifted at will in an uncontrollable mass.The air was
so filled with sifting sand and eddying dust that it was impossible to
see a mounted man at a distance of fifty yards. The wind blew a
hurricane, making it impossible to dismount in the face of it.Our
horses trembled with fear, unsteady on their feet. The very sky
overhead darkened as if night was falling.Two thirds of the men threw
themselves in the lead of the beeves, firing six-shooters to check
them, which could not even be heard by the ones on the flank and in the
rear.Once the herd drifted against a wire fence, leveled it down and
moved on, sullen but irresistible. Towards evening the storm abated,
and half the outfit was sent out in search of the wagon, which was
finally found about dark some four miles distant.That night Owen Ubery, as he bathed his bloodshot eyes in a pail of
water, said to the rest of us: “Fellows, if ever I have a boy, and tell
him how his pa suffered this afternoon, and he don’t cry, I’ll cut a
switch and whip him until he does.”
CHAPTER V.
RED RIVER STATION
When the spirit of a man is once broken, he becomes useless.On the
trail it is necessary to have some diversion from hard work, long
hours, and exposure to the elements. With man and beast, from the
Brazos to Red River was a fire test of physical endurance.But after
crossing into the Chickasaw Nation, a comparatively new country would
open before us.When the strain of the past week was sorest, in buoying
up the spirits of my outfit, I had promised them rest and recreation at
the first possible opportunity. Fortunately we had an easy ford.There was not even an indication that
there had been a freshet on the river that spring. This was tempering
the wind, for we were crippled, three of the boys being unable to
resume their places around the herd on account of inflamed eyes.The
cook had weathered the sand-storm better than any of us. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Sheltering his
team, and fastening his wagon-sheet securely, he took refuge under it
until the gale had passed.Pressing him into the service the next
morning, and assigning him to the drag end of the herd, I left the
blind to lead the blind in driving the wagon.On reaching the river
about the middle of the forenoon, we trailed the cattle across in a
long chain, not an animal being compelled to swim.The wagon was
carried over on a ferryboat, as it was heavily loaded, a six weeks’
supply of provisions having been taken on before crossing.Once the
trail left the breaks, on the north side of the river, we drew off
several miles to the left and went into camp for the remainder of the
day.Still keeping clear of the trail, daily we moved forward the wagon
from three to five miles, allowing the cattle to graze and rest to
contentment.The herd recuperated rapidly, and by the evening of the
fourth day after crossing, the inflammation was so reduced in those
whose eyes were inflamed, that we decided to start in earnest the next
morning.The cook was ordered to set out the best the wagon afforded, several
outside delicacies were added, and a feast was in sight.G—G Cederdall
had recrossed the river that day to mail a letter, and on his return
proudly carried a basket of eggs on his arm.Three of the others had
joined a fishing party from the Texas side, and had come in earlier in
the day with a fine string of fish. Parent won new laurels in the
supper to which he invited us about sundown.The cattle came in to
their beds groaning and satiated, and dropped down as if ordered. When
the first watch had taken them, there was nothing to do but sit around
and tell stories.Since crossing Red River, we had slept almost night
and day, but in that balmy May evening sleep was banished. The fact
that we were in the Indian country, civilized though the Indians were,
called forth many an incident.The raids of the Comanches into the
Panhandle country during the buffalo days was a favorite topic. Vick
Wolf, however, had had an Indian experience in the North with which he
regaled us at the first opportunity.“There isn’t any trouble nowadays,” said he, lighting a cigarette,
“with these blanket Indians on the reservations. I had an experience
once on a reservation where the Indians could have got me easy enough
if they had been on the war-path.It was the first winter I ever spent
on a Northern range, having gone up to the Cherokee Strip to
avoid—well, no matter. I got a job in the Strip, not riding, but as a
kind of an all-round rustler.This was long before the country was
fenced, and they rode lines to keep the cattle on their ranges. One
evening about nightfall in December, the worst kind of a blizzard
struck us that the country had ever seen.The next day it was just as
bad, and BLOODY cold. A fellow could not see any distance, and to
venture away from the dugout meant to get lost. The third day she broke
and the sun came out clear in the early evening.The next day we
managed to gather the saddle horses, as they had not drifted like the
cattle. “Well, we were three days overtaking the lead of that cattle drift, and
then found them in the heart of the Cheyenne country, at least on that
reservation.They had drifted a good hundred miles before the storm
broke. Every outfit in the Strip had gone south after their cattle. Instead of drifting them back together, the different ranches rustled
for their own.Some of the foremen paid the Indians so much per head to
gather for them, but ours didn’t. The braves weren’t very much struck
on us on that account. I was cooking for the outfit, which suited me in
winter weather.We had a permanent camp on a small well-wooded creek,
from which we worked all the country round. “One afternoon when I was in camp all alone, I noticed an Indian
approaching me from out of the timber.There was a Winchester standing
against the wagon wheel, but as the bucks were making no trouble, I
gave the matter no attention.Mr. Injun came up to the fire and
professed to be very friendly, shook hands, and spoke quite a number of
words in English.After he got good and warm, he looked all over the
wagon, and noticing that I had no sixshooter on, he picked up the
carbine and walked out about a hundred yards to a little knoll, threw
his arms in the air, and made signs.“Instantly, out of the cover of some timber on the creek a quarter
above, came about twenty young bucks, mounted, and yelling like demons. When they came up, they began circling around the fire and wagon.I was
sitting on an empty corn-crate by the fire. One young buck, seeing that
I was not scaring to suit him, unslung a carbine as he rode, and shot
into the fire before me.The bullet threw fire and ashes all over me,
and I jumped about ten feet, which suited them better. They circled
around for several minutes, every one uncovering a carbine, and they
must have fired a hundred and fifty shots into the fire.In fact they
almost shot it out, scattering the fire around so that it came near
burning up the bedding of our outfit. I was scared thoroughly by this
time. If it was possible for me to have had fits, I’d have had one
sure.The air seemed full of coals of fire and ashes. I got good
practical insight into what hell’s like. I was rustling the rolls of
bedding out of the circle of fire, expecting every moment would be my
last. It’s a wonder I wasn’t killed.Were they throwing lead? Well, I
should remark! You see the ground was not frozen around the fire, and
the bullets buried themselves in the soft soil.“After they had had as much fun as they wanted, the leader gave a yell
and they all circled the other way once, and struck back into the
timber.Some of them had brought up the decoy Indian’s horse when they
made the dash at first, and he suddenly turned as wild as a Cheyenne
generally gets.When the others were several hundred yards away, he
turned his horse, rode back some little distance, and attracted my
attention by holding out the Winchester.From his horse he laid it
carefully down on the ground, whirled his pony, and rode like a scared
wolf after the others. I could hear their yells for miles, as they made
for their encampment over on the North Fork.As soon as I got the fire
under control, I went out and got the carbine. It was empty; the Indian
had used its magazine in the general hilarity.That may be an Indian’s
style of fun, but I failed to see where there was any in it for me.”
The cook threw a handful of oily fish-bones on the fire, causing it to
flame up for a brief moment.With the exception of Wayne Outcault, who
was lying prone on the ground, the men were smoking and sitting Indian
fashion around the fire. After rolling awhile uneasily, Outcault sat up
and remarked, “I feel about half sick. Eat too much?Don’t you think
it. Why, I only ate seven or eight of those fish, and that oughtn’t to
hurt a baby. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
There was only half a dozen hard-boiled eggs to the man,
and I don’t remember of any of you being so generous as to share yours
with me.Those few plates of prunes that I ate for dessert wouldn’t
hurt nobody—they’re medicine to some folks.Unroll our bed, pardner,
and I’ll thrash around on it awhile.”
Several trail stories of more or less interest were told, when Runt
Pickett, in order to avoid the smoke, came over and sat down between
Burl Van Vedder and me.He had had an experience, and instantly opened
on us at short range. “Speaking of stampedes,” said Runt, “reminds me
of a run I was in, and over which I was paid by my employer a very high
compliment.My first trip over the trail, as far north as Dodge, was in
’78. The herd sold next day after reaching there, and as I had an old
uncle and aunt living in middle Kansas, I concluded to run down and pay
them a short visit.So I threw away all my trail togs—well, they were
worn out, anyway—and bought me a new outfit complete. Yes, I even
bought button shoes.After visiting a couple of weeks with my folks, I
drifted back to Dodge in the hope of getting in with some herd bound
farther north—I was perfectly useless on a farm.On my return to Dodge,
the only thing about me that indicated a cow-hand was my Texas saddle
and outfit, but in toggery, in my visiting harness, I looked like a
rank tenderfoot.“Well, boys, the first day I struck town I met a through man looking
for hands. His herd had just come in over the Chisholm Trail, crossing
to the western somewhere above.He was disgusted with his outfit, and
was discharging men right and left and hiring new ones to take their
places. I apologized for my appearance, showed him my outfit, and got a
job cow-punching with this through man.He expected to hold on sale a
week or two, when if unsold he would drift north to the Platte. The
first week that I worked, a wet stormy night struck us, and before ten
o’clock we lost every hoof of cattle.I was riding wild after little
squads of cattle here and there, guided by flashes of lightning, when
the storm finally broke. Well, there it was midnight, and I didn’t have
a HOOF OF CATTLE to hold and no one to help me if I had.The truth is,
I was lost. Common horse-sense told me that; but where the outfit or
wagon was was anybody’s guess. The horses in my mount were as good as
worthless; worn out, and if you gave one free rein he lacked the energy
to carry you back to camp.I ploughed around in the darkness for over
an hour, but finally came to a sudden stop on the banks of the muddy
Arkansaw. Right there I held a council of war with myself, the decision
of which was that it was at least five miles to the wagon.“After I’d prowled around some little time, a bright flash of lightning
revealed to me an old deserted cabin a few rods below. To this shelter
I turned without even a bid, unsaddled my horse and picketed him, and
turned into the cabin for the night.Early the next morning I was out
and saddled my horse, and the question was, Which way is camp? As soon
as the sun rose clearly, I got my bearings.By my reasoning, if the
river yesterday was south of camp, this morning the wagon must be north
of the river, so I headed in that direction.Somehow or other I stopped
my horse on the first little knoll, and looking back towards the
bottom, I saw in a horseshoe which the river made a large bunch of
cattle.Of course I knew that all herds near about were through cattle
and under herd, and the absence of any men in sight aroused my
curiosity.I concluded to investigate it, and riding back found over
five hundred head of the cattle we had lost the night before.‘Here’s a
chance to make a record with my new boss,’ I said to myself, and
circling in behind, began drifting them out of the bottoms towards the
uplands.By ten o’clock I had got them to the first divide, when who
should ride up but the owner, the old cowman himself—the sure enough
big auger.“‘Well, son,’ said my boss, ‘you held some of them, didn’t you?’ ‘Yes,’
I replied, surly as I could, giving him a mean look, ‘I’ve nearly
ridden this horse to death, holding this bunch all night.If I had only
had a good man or two with me, we could have caught twice as many.What
kind of an outfit are you working, anyhow, Captain?’ And at dinner that
day, the boss pointed me out to the others and said, ‘That little
fellow standing over there with the button shoes on is the only man in
my outfit that is worth a ————.’”
The cook had finished his work, and now joined the circle.Parent began
regaling us with personal experiences, in which it was evident that he
would prove the hero. Fortunately, however, we were spared listening to
his self-laudation.Dorg Seay and Tim Stanley, bunkies, engaged in a
friendly scuffle, each trying to make the other get a firebrand for his
pipe. In the tussle which followed, we were all compelled to give way
or get trampled underfoot.When both had exhausted themselves in vain,
we resumed our places around the fire.Parent, who was disgusted over
the interruption, on resuming his seat refused to continue his story at
the request of the offenders, replying, “The more I see of you two
varmints the more you remind me of mule colts.”
Once the cook refused to pick up the broken thread of his story, John
Levering, our horse-wrangler, preempted the vacated post.“I was over
in Louisiana a few winters ago with a horse herd,” said John, “and had
a few experiences. Of all the simple people that I ever met, the
‘Cajin’ takes the bakery.You’ll meet darkies over there that can’t
speak a word of anything but French. It’s nothing to see a cow and mule
harnessed together to a cart.One day on the road, I met a man, old
enough to be my father, and inquired of him how far it was to the
parish centre, a large town. He didn’t know, except it was a long, long
ways.He had never been there, but his older brother, once when he was
a young man, had been there as a witness at court. The brother was dead
now, but if he was living and present, it was quite possible that he
would remember the distance.The best information was that it was a
very long ways off. I rode it in the mud in less than two hours; just
about ten miles. “But that wasn’t a circumstance to other experiences.We had driven
about three hundred horses and mules, and after disposing of over two
thirds of them, my employer was compelled to return home, leaving me to
dispose of the remainder.I was a fair salesman, and rather than carry
the remnant of the herd with me, made headquarters with a man who owned
a large cane-brake pasture. It was a convenient stopping-place, and the
stock did well on the young cane.Every week I would drive to some
distant town eighteen or twenty head, or as many as I could handle
alone. Sometimes I would sell out in a few days, and then again it
would take me longer.But when possible I always made it a rule to get
back to my headquarters to spend Sunday. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
The owner of the cane-brake
and his wife were a simple couple, and just a shade or two above the
Arcadians.But they had a daughter who could pass muster, and she took
quite a shine to the ‘Texas-Hoss-Man,’ as they called me. I reckon you
understand now why I made that headquarters?—there were other reasons
besides the good pasturage.“Well, the girl and her mother both could read, but I have some doubt
about the old man on that score. They took no papers, and the nearest
approach to a book in the house was an almanac three years old.The
women folks were ravenous for something to read, and each time on my
return after selling out, I’d bring them a whole bundle of illustrated
papers and magazines.About my fourth return after more horses,—I was
mighty near one of the family by that time,—when we were all seated
around the fire one night, the women poring over the papers and
admiring the pictures, the old man inquired what the news was over in
the parish where I had recently been.The only thing that I could
remember was the suicide of a prominent man. After explaining the
circumstances, I went on to say that some little bitterness arose over
his burial.Owing to his prominence it was thought permission would be
given to bury him in the churchyard. But it seems there was some
superstition about permitting a self-murderer to be buried in the same
field as decent folks.It was none of my funeral, and I didn’t pay
overmuch attention to the matter, but the authorities refused, and they
buried him just outside the grounds, in the woods. “My host and I discussed the matter at some length.He contended that
if the man was not of sound mind, he should have been given his little
six feet of earth among the others.A horse salesman has to be a good
second-rate talker, and being anxious to show off before the girl, I
differed with her father. The argument grew spirited yet friendly, and
I appealed to the women in supporting my view.My hostess was absorbed
at the time in reading a sensational account of a woman shooting her
betrayer. The illustrations covered a whole page, and the girl was
simply burning, at short range, the shirt from off her seducer.The old
lady was bogged to the saddle skirts in the story, when I interrupted
her and inquired, ‘Mother, what do you think ought to be done with a
man who commits suicide?’ She lowered the paper just for an instant,
and looking over her spectacles at me replied, ‘Well, I think any man
who would do THAT ought to be made to support the child.’”
No comment was offered.Our wrangler arose and strolled away from the
fire under the pretense of repicketing his horse.It was nearly time
for the guards to change, and giving the last watch orders to point the
herd, as they left the bed-ground in the morning, back on an angle
towards the trail, I prepared to turn in.While I was pulling off my
boots in the act of retiring, Clay Zilligan rode in from the herd to
call the relief.The second guard were bridling their horses, and as
Zilligan dismounted, he said to the circle of listeners, “Didn’t I tell
you fellows that there was another herd just ahead of us?I don’t care
if they didn’t pass up the trail since we’ve been laying over, they are
there just the same. Of course you can’t see their camp-fire from here,
but it’s in plain view from the bed-ground, and not over four or five
miles away.If I remember rightly, there’s a local trail comes in from
the south of the Wichita River, and joins the Chisholm just ahead. And
what’s more, that herd was there at nine o’clock this morning, and they
haven’t moved a peg since.Well, there’s two lads out there waiting to
be relieved, and you second guard know where the cattle are bedded.”
CHAPTER VI. CAMP SUPPLY
In gala spirits we broke camp the next morning.The herd had left the
bed-ground at dawn, and as the outfit rode away to relieve the last
guard, every mother’s son was singing. The cattle were a refreshing
sight as they grazed forward, their ragged front covering half a mile
in width.The rest of the past few days had been a boon to the few
tender-footed ones. The lay-over had rejuvenated both man and beast.From maps in our possession we knew we were somewhere near the western
border of the Chickasaw Nation, while on our left was the reservation
of three blanket tribes of Indians.But as far as signs of occupancy
were concerned, the country was unmarked by any evidence of
civilization.The Chisholm Cattle Trail, which ran from Red River to
the Kansas line, had almost fallen into disuse, owing to encroachments
of settlements south of the former and westward on the latter.With the
advancement of immigration, Abilene and Ellsworth as trail terminals
yielded to the tide, and the leading cattle trace of the ’70’s was
relegated to local use in ’84.The first guard was on the qui vive for the outfit whose camp-fire they
had sighted the night before. I was riding with Clay Zilligan on the
left point, when he sighted what we supposed was a small bunch of
cattle lying down several miles distant.When we reached the first rise
of ground, a band of saddle horses came in view, and while we were
trying to locate their camp, Jack Splann from the opposite point
attracted our attention and pointed straight ahead.There a large band
of cattle under herd greeted our view, compelling us to veer to the
right and intersect the trail sooner than we intended.Keeping a clear
half-mile between us, we passed them within an hour and exchanged the
compliments of the trail.They proved to be “Laurel Leaf” and “Running
W” cattle, the very ones for which the International Railway agent at
the meeting in February had so boastfully shown my employer the
application for cars.The foreman was cursing like a stranded pirate
over the predicament in which he found himself. He had left Santo
Gertrudo Ranch over a month before with a herd of three thousand
straight two-year-old steers.But in the shipment of some thirty-three
thousand cattle from the two ranches to Wichita Falls, six trains had
been wrecked, two of which were his own.Instead of being hundreds of
miles ahead in the lead of the year’s drive, as he expected, he now
found himself in charge of a camp of cripples.What few trains
belonging to his herd had escaped the ditch were used in filling up
other unfortunate ones, the injured cattle from the other wrecks
forming his present holdings.“Our people were anxious to get their cattle on to the market early
this year,” said he, “and put their foot into it up to the knee. Shipping to Red River was an experiment with them, and I hope they’ve
got their belly full.We’ve got dead and dying cattle in every pasture
from the falls to the river, while these in sight aren’t able to keep
out of the stench of those that croaked between here and the ford. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Oh,
this shipping is a fine thing—for the railroads.Here I’ve got to rot
all summer with these cattle, just because two of my trains went into
the ditch while no other foreman had over one wrecked.And mind you,
they paid the freight in advance, and now King and Kennedy have brought
suit for damages amounting to double the shipping expense. They’ll get
it all right—in pork. I’d rather have a claim against a nigger than a
railroad company.Look at your beeves, slick as weasels, and from the
Nueces River. Have to hold them in, I reckon, to keep from making
twenty miles a day. And here I am—Oh, hell, I’d rather be on a
rock-pile with a ball and chain to my foot!Do you see those objects
across yonder about two miles—in that old grass? That’s where we bedded
night before last and forty odd died. We only lost twenty-two last
night. Oh, we’re getting in shape fast.If you think you can hold your
breakfast down, just take a ride through mine.No, excuse me—I’ve seen
them too often already.”
Several of the boys and myself rode into the herd some little distance,
but the sight was enough to turn a copper-lined stomach. Scarcely an
animal had escaped without more or less injury.Fully one half were
minus one or both horns, leaving instead bloody stumps.Broken bones
and open sores greeted us on every hand; myriads of flies added to the
misery of the cattle, while in many instances there was evidence of
maggots at work on the living animal.Turning from the herd in disgust,
we went back to our own, thankful that the rate offered us had been
prohibitory. The trials and vexations of the road were mere nothings to
be endured, compared to the sights we were then leaving.Even what we
first supposed were cattle lying down, were only bed-grounds, the
occupants having been humanely relieved by unwaking sleep.Powerless to
render any assistance, we trailed away, glad to blot from our sight and
memory such scenes of misery and death. Until reaching the Washita River, we passed through a delightful
country.There were numerous local trails coming into the main one, all
of which showed recent use.Abandoned camp-fires and bed-grounds were
to be seen on every hand, silent witnesses of an exodus which was to
mark the maximum year in the history of the cattle movement from Texas.Several times we saw some evidence of settlement by the natives, but as
to the freedom of the country, we were monarchs of all we surveyed.On
arriving at the Washita, we encountered a number of herds, laboring
under the impression that they were water-bound. Immediate entrance at
the ford was held by a large herd of young cattle in charge of a negro
outfit.Their stock were scattered over several thousand acres, and
when I asked for the boss, a middle-aged darky of herculean figure was
pointed out as in charge.To my inquiry why he was holding the ford,
his answer was that until to-day the river had been swimming, and now
he was waiting for the banks to dry.Ridiculing his flimsy excuse, I
kindly yet firmly asked him either to cross or vacate the ford by three
o’clock that afternoon. Receiving no definite reply, I returned to our
herd, which was some five miles in the rear.Beyond the river’s steep,
slippery banks and cold water, there was nothing to check a herd. After the noonday halt, the wrangler and myself took our remuda and
went on ahead to the river.Crossing and recrossing our saddle stock a
number of times, we trampled the banks down to a firm footing. While we
were doing this work, the negro foreman and a number of his men rode up
and sullenly watched us.Leaving our horses on the north bank, Levering
and I returned, and ignoring the presence of the darky spectators,
started back to meet the herd, which was just then looming up in sight.But before we had ridden any distance, the dusky foreman overtook us
and politely said, “Look-ee here, Cap’n; ain’t you-all afraid of losin’
some of your cattle among ours?” Never halting, I replied, “Not a
particle; if we lose any, you eat them, and we’ll do the same if our
herd absorbs any of yours.But it strikes me that you had better have
those lazy niggers throw your cattle to one side,” I called back, as he
halted his horse.We did not look backward until we reached the herd;
then as we turned, one on each side to support the points, it was
evident that a clear field would await us on reaching the river.Every
horseman in the black outfit was pushing cattle with might and main, to
give us a clean cloth at the crossing. The herd forded the Washita without incident.I remained on the south
bank while the cattle were crossing, and when they were about half over
some half-dozen of the darkies rode up and stopped apart, conversing
among themselves.When the drag cattle passed safely out on the farther
bank, I turned to the dusky group, only to find their foreman absent.Making a few inquiries as to the ownership of their herd, its
destination, and other matters of interest, I asked the group to
express my thanks to their foreman for moving his cattle aside.Our
commissary crossed shortly afterward, and the Washita was in our rear.But that night, as some of my outfit returned from the river, where
they had been fishing, they reported the negro outfit as having crossed
and encamped several miles in our rear. “All they needed was a good example,” said Dorg Seay.“Under a white
foreman, I’ll bet that’s a good lot of darkies. They were just about
the right shade—old shiny black. As good cowhands as ever I saw were
nigs, but they need a white man to blow and brag on them.But it always
ruins one to give him any authority.”
Without effort we traveled fifteen miles a day. In the absence of any
wet weather to gall their backs, there was not a horse in our remuda
unfit for the saddle.In fact, after reaching the Indian Territory,
they took on flesh and played like lambs.With the exception of long
hours and night-herding, the days passed in seeming indolence as we
swept northward, crossing rivers without a halt which in previous years
had defied the moving herds.On arriving at the Cimarron River, in
reply to a letter written to my employer on leaving Texas behind us, an
answer was found awaiting me at Red Fork.The latter was an Indian
trading-post, located on the mail route to Fort Reno, and only a few
miles north of the Chisholm Crossing. The letter was characteristic of
my employer.It contained but one imperative order,—that I should
touch, either with or without the herd, at Camp Supply. For some
unexplained reason he would make that post his headquarters until after
the Buford herds had passed that point.The letter concluded with the
injunction, in case we met any one, to conceal the ownership of the
herd and its destination. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
The mystery was thickening.But having previously declined to borrow
trouble, I brushed this aside as unimportant, though I gave my outfit
instructions to report the herd to every one as belonging to Omaha men,
and on its way to Nebraska to be corn-fed.Fortunately I had ridden
ahead of the herd after crossing the Cimarron, and had posted the
outfit before they reached the trading-station. I did not allow one of
my boys near the store, and the herd passed by as in contempt of such a
wayside place.As the Dodge cut-off left the Chisholm Trail some ten
miles above the Indian trading-post, the next morning we waved good-bye
to the old cattle trace and turned on a northwest angle.Our route now
lay up the Cimarron, which we crossed and recrossed at our pleasure,
for the sake of grazing or to avoid several large alkali flats.There
was evidence of herds in our advance, and had we not hurried past Red
Fork, I might have learned something to our advantage.But disdaining
all inquiry of the cut-off, fearful lest our identity be discovered, we
deliberately walked into the first real danger of the trip. At low water the Cimarron was a brackish stream.But numerous
tributaries put in from either side, and by keeping above the river’s
ebb, an abundance of fresh water was daily secured from the river’s
affluents.The fifth day out from Red Rock was an excessively sultry
one, and suffering would have resulted to the herd had we not been
following a divide where we caught an occasional breeze.The river lay
some ten miles to our right, while before us a tributary could be
distinctly outlined by the cottonwoods which grew along it.Since early
morning we had been paralleling the creek, having nooned within sight
of its confluence with the mother stream, and consequently I had
considered it unnecessary to ride ahead and look up the water.When
possible, we always preferred watering the herd between three and four
o’clock in the afternoon.But by holding our course, we were certain to
intersect the creek at about the usual hour for the cattle’s daily
drink, and besides, as the creek neared the river, it ran through an
alkali flat for some distance.But before the time arrived to intersect
the creek on our course, the herd turned out of the trail, determined
to go to the creek and quench their thirst.The entire outfit, however,
massed on the right flank, and against their will we held them on their
course. As their thirst increased with travel, they made repeated
attempts to break through our cordon, requiring every man to keep on
the alert.But we held them true to the divide, and as we came to the
brow of a small hill within a quarter-mile of the water, a stench
struck us until we turned in our saddles, gasping for breath.I was
riding third man in the swing from the point, and noticing something
wrong in front, galloped to the brow of the hill.The smell was
sickening and almost unendurable, and there before us in plain view lay
hundreds of dead cattle, bloated and decaying in the summer sun. I was dazed by the awful scene.A pretty, greenswarded little valley
lay before me, groups of cottonwoods fringed the stream here and there,
around the roots of which were both shade and water.The reeking stench
that filled the air stupefied me for the instant, and I turned my horse
from the view, gasping for a mouthful of God’s pure ozone.But our
beeves had been scenting the creek for hours, and now a few of the
leaders started forward in a trot for it.Like a flash it came to me
that death lurked in that water, and summoning every man within
hearing, I dashed to the lead of our cattle to turn them back over the
hill.Jack Splann was on the point, and we turned the leaders when
within two hundred yards of the creek, frequently jumping our horses
over the putrid carcasses of dead cattle.The main body of the herd
were trailing for three quarters of a mile in our rear, and none of the
men dared leave their places.Untying our slickers, Splann and I fell
upon the leaders and beat them back to the brow of the hill, when an
unfortunate breeze was wafted through that polluted atmosphere from the
creek to the cattle’s nostrils.Turning upon us and now augmented to
several hundred head, they sullenly started forward. But in the few
minutes’ interim, two other lads had come to our support, and
dismounting we rushed them, whipping our slickers into ribbons over
their heads.The mastery of man again triumphed over brutes in their
thirst, for we drove them in a rout back over the divide. Our success, however, was only temporary.Recovering our horses we beat
the cattle back, seemingly inch by inch, until the rear came up, when
we rounded them into a compact body.They quieted down for a short
while, affording us a breathing spell, for the suddenness of this
danger had not only unnerved me but every one of the outfit who had
caught a glimpse of that field of death.The wagon came up, and those
who needed them secured a change of horses. Leaving the outfit holding
the herd, Splann and I took fresh mounts, and circling around, came in
on the windward side of the creek.As we crossed it half a mile above
the scene of disaster, each of us dipped a hand in the water and tasted
it. The alkali was strong as concentrated lye, blistering our mouths in
the experiment.The creek was not even running, but stood in long, deep
pools, clear as crystal and as inviting to the thirsty as a mountain
spring.As we neared the dead cattle, Splann called my attention to the
attitude of the animals when death relieved them, the heads of fully
two thirds being thrown back on their sides.Many, when stricken, were
unable to reach the bank, and died in the bed of the stream.Making a
complete circle of the ghastly scene, we returned to our own, agreeing
that between five and six hundred cattle had met their fate in those
death-dealing pools. We were not yet out of the woods.On our return, many of the cattle
were lying down, while in the west thunder-clouds were appearing. The
North Fork of the Canadian lay on our left, which was now our only hope
for water, yet beyond our reach for the day.Keeping the slight divide
between us and the creek, we started the herd forward. Since it was
impossible to graze them in their thirsty condition, I was determined
to move them as far as possible before darkness overtook us.But within
an hour we crossed a country trail over which herds had passed on their
way northwest, having left the Chisholm after crossing the North Fork.At the first elevation which would give me a view of the creek, another
scene of death and desolation greeted my vision, only a few miles above
the first one.Yet from this same hill I could easily trace the
meanderings of the creek for miles as it made a half circle in our
front, both inviting and defying us.Turning the herd due south, we
traveled until darkness fell, going into camp on a high, flat mesa of
several thousand acres. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
But those evening breezes wafted an invitation
to come and drink, and our thirsty herd refused to bed down.To add to
our predicament, a storm thickened in the west. Realizing that we were
confronting the most dangerous night in all my cattle experience, I
ordered every man into the saddle.The remuda and team were taken in
charge by the wrangler and cook, and going from man to man, I warned
them what the consequences would be if we lost the herd during the
night, and the cattle reached the creek.The cattle surged and drifted almost at will, for we were compelled to
hold them loose to avoid milling.Before ten o’clock the lightning was
flickering overhead and around us, revealing acres of big beeves, which
in an instant might take fright, and then, God help us. But in that
night of trial a mercy was extended to the dumb brutes in charge.A
warm rain began falling, first in a drizzle, increasing after the first
hour, and by midnight we could hear the water slushing under our
horses’ feet.By the almost constant flashes of lightning we could see
the cattle standing as if asleep, in grateful enjoyment of the sheeting
downpour.As the night wore on, our fears of a stampede abated, for the
buffalo wallows on the mesa filled, and water was on every hand.The
rain ceased before dawn, but owing to the saturated condition
underfoot, not a hoof lay down during the night, and when the gray of
morning streaked the east, what a sense of relief it brought us. The
danger had passed.Near noon that day, and within a few miles of the North Fork, we
rounded an alkaline plain in which this deadly creek had its source.Under the influence of the season, alkali had oozed up out of the soil
until it looked like an immense lake under snow.The presence of range
cattle in close proximity to this creek, for we were in the Cherokee
Strip, baffled my reasoning; but the next day we met a range-rider who
explained that the present condition of the stream was unheard of
before, and that native cattle had instinct enough to avoid it.He
accounted for its condition as due to the dry season, there being no
general rains sufficient to flood the alkaline plain and thoroughly
flush the creek.In reply to an inquiry as to the ownership of the
unfortunate herds, he informed me that there were three, one belonging
to Bob Houston, another to Major Corouthers, and the third to a man
named Murphy, the total loss amounting to about two thousand cattle.From this same range-man we also learned our location. Camp Supply lay
up the North Fork some sixty miles, while a plain trail followed up the
first bottom of the river.Wishing to avoid, if possible, intersecting
the western trail south of Dodge, the next morning I left the herd to
follow up, and rode into Camp Supply before noon.Lovell had sighted me
a mile distant, and after a drink at the sutler’s bar, we strolled
aside for a few minutes’ chat.Once I had informed him of the locality
of the herd and their condition, he cautioned me not to let my business
be known while in the post. After refreshing the inner man, my employer
secured a horse and started with me on my return.As soon as the flag
over Supply faded out of sight in our rear, we turned to the friendly
shade of the timber on the North Fork and dismounted.I felt that the
precaution exercised by the drover was premonitory of some revelation,
and before we arose from the cottonwood log on which we took seats, the
scales had fallen from my eyes and the atmosphere of mystery cleared.“Tom,” said my employer, “I am up against a bad proposition. I am
driving these Buford cattle, you understand, on a sub-contract.I was
the second lowest bidder with the government, and no sooner was the
award made to The Western Supply Company than they sent an agent who
gave me no peace until they sublet their contract.Unfortunately for
me, when the papers were drawn, my regular attorney was out of town,
and I was compelled to depend on a stranger.After the articles were
executed, I submitted the matter to my old lawyer; he shook his head,
arguing that a loophole had been left open, and that I should have
secured an assignment of the original contract.After studying the
matter over, we opened negotiations to secure a complete relinquishment
of the award.But when I offered the company a thousand dollars over
and above what they admitted was their margin, and they refused it, I
opened my eyes to the true situation.If cattle went up, I was
responsible and would have to fill my contract; if they went down, the
company would buy in the cattle and I could go to hell in a hand-basket
for all they cared.Their bond to the government does me no good, and
beyond that they are irresponsible.Beeves have broken from four to
five dollars a head, and unless I can deliver these Buford herds on my
contract, they will lose me fifty thousand dollars.”
“Have you any intimation that they expect to buy in other cattle?” I
inquired. “Yes.I have had a detective in my employ ever since my suspicions were
aroused. There are two parties in Dodge this very minute with the
original contract, properly assigned, and they are looking for cattle
to fill it.That’s why I’m stopping here and lying low. I couldn’t
explain it to you sooner, but you understand now why I drove those
Buford herds in different road brands. Tom, we’re up against it, and
we’ve got to fight the devil with fire.Henceforth your name will be
Tom McIndoo, your herd will be the property of the Marshall estate, and
their agent, my detective, will be known as Charles Siringo.Any money
or supplies you may need in Dodge, get in the usual form through the
firm of Wright, Beverly & Co.—they understand.Hold your herd out south
on Mulberry, and Siringo will have notice and be looking for you, or
you can find him at the Dodge House.I’ve sent a courier to Fort
Elliott to meet Dave and Quince, and once I see them, I’ll run up to
Ogalalla and wait for you.Now, until further orders, remember you
never knew a man by the name of Don Lovell, and by all means don’t
forget to use what wits Nature gave you.”
CHAPTER VII. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK
It was late that night when I reached the herd.Before I parted with my
employer we had carefully reviewed the situation in its minutest
details. Since the future could not be foreseen, we could only watch
and wait.The Texan may have his shortcomings, but lack of fidelity to
a trust is not one of them, and relying on the metal of my outfit, I at
once put them in possession of the facts.At first their simple minds
could hardly grasp the enormity of the injustice to our employer, but
once the land lay clear, they would gladly have led a forlorn hope in
Don Lovell’s interests.Agitation over the matter was maintained at
white heat for several days, as we again angled back towards the
Cimarron. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Around the camp-fires at night, the chicanery of The Western
Supply Company gave place to the best stories at our command.“There
ought to be a law,” said Runt Pickett, in wrathy indignation, “making
it legal to kill some people, same as rattlesnakes.Now, you take a
square gambler and I don’t think anything of losing my money against
his game, but one of these sneaking, under-dealing,
top-and-bottom-business pimps, I do despise.You can find them in every
honest calling, same as vultures hover round when cattle are dying. Honest, fellows, I’d just dearly love to pull on a rope and watch one
of the varmints make his last kick.”
Several days of showery weather followed.Crossing the Cimarron, we
followed up its north slope to within thirty miles of the regular
western trail. Not wishing to intercept it until necessity compelled
us, when near the Kansas line we made our last tack for Dodge.The
rains had freshened the country and flushed the creeks, making our work
easy, and early in the month of June we reached the Mulberry.Traveling
at random, we struck that creek about twenty miles below the trail, and
moved up the stream to within a short distance of the old crossing.The
presence of a dozen other herds holding along it forced us into a
permanent camp a short half-day’s ride from the town.The
horse-wrangler was pressed into service in making up the first guard
that night, and taking Morg Tussler with me, I struck out for Dodge in
the falling darkness.On reaching the first divide, we halted long
enough to locate the camp-fires along the Mulberry to our rear, while
above and below and beyond the river, fires flickered like an Indian
encampment.The lights of Dodge were inviting us, and after making a
rough estimate of the camps in sight, we rode for town, arriving there
between ten and eleven o’clock.The Dodge House was a popular hostelry
for trail men and cattle buyers, and on our making inquiry of the night
clerk if a Mr. Siringo was stopping there, we were informed that he
was, but had retired.I put up a trivial excuse for seeing him, the
clerk gave me the number of his room, and Tussler and I were soon
closeted with him.The detective was a medium-sized, ordinary man,
badly pock-marked, with a soft, musical voice, and apparently as
innocent as a boy.In a brief preliminary conversation, he proved to be
a Texan, knowing every in and out of cattle, having been bred to the
occupation. Our relations to each other were easily established.Reviewing the situation thoroughly, he informed me that he had
cultivated the acquaintance of the parties holding the assignment of
the Buford award.He had represented to them that he was the fiscal
agent of some six herds on the trail that year, three of which were
heavy beeves, and they had agreed to look them over, provided they
arrived before the 15th of the month.He further assured me that the
parties were mere figureheads of The Supply Company; that they were
exceedingly bearish on the market, gloating over the recent
depreciation in prices, and perfectly willing to fatten on the wreck
and ruin of others.It was long after midnight when the consultation ended. Appointing an
hour for showing the herd the next day, or that one rather, Tussler and
I withdrew, agreeing to be out of town before daybreak.But the blaze
of gambling and the blare of dance-halls held us as in a siren’s
embrace until the lights dimmed with the breaking of dawn.Mounting our
horses, we forded the river east of town and avoided the herds, which
were just arising from their bed-grounds. On the divide we halted.Within the horizon before us, it is safe to assert that one hundred
thousand cattle grazed in lazy contentment, all feeding against the
morning breeze.Save for the freshness of early summer, with its
background of green and the rarified atmosphere of the elevated plain,
the scene before us might be compared to a winter drift of buffalo, ten
years previous.Riding down the farther slope, we reached our camp in
time for a late breakfast, the fifteen-mile ride having whetted our
appetites.Three men were on herd, and sending two more with
instructions to water the cattle an hour before noon, Tussler and I
sought the shade of the wagon and fell asleep.It was some time after
midday when, on sighting the expected conveyance approaching our camp,
the cook aroused us. Performing a rather hasty ablution, I met the
vehicle, freshened, and with my wits on tap.I nearly dragged the
detective from the livery rig, addressing him as “Charley,” and we made
a rough ado over each other. Several of the other boys came forward
and, shaking hands, greeted him with equal familiarity.As two
strangers alighted on the opposite side, the detective took me around
and they were introduced as Mr. Field and Mr. Radcliff, prospective
beef buyers.The boys had stretched a tarpaulin, affording ample shade,
and Parent invited every one to dinner.The two strangers were rather
testy, but Siringo ate ravenously, repeatedly asking for things which
were usually kept in a well-stocked chuck-wagon, meanwhile talking with
great familiarity with Tussler and me.The strangers said little, but were amused at the lightness of our
dinner chat. I could see at a glance that they were not cowmen.They
were impatient to see the cattle; and when dinner was over, I explained
to them that the men on herd would be relieved for dinner by those in
camp, and orders would be given, if it was their wish, to throw the
cattle compactly together.To this Siringo objected. “No, Mac,” said
he, “that isn’t the right way to show beeves. Here, Morg, listen to me;
I’m foreman for the time being.When you relieve the other lads, edge
in your cattle from an ordinary loose herd until you have them on two
or three hundred acres. Then we can slowly drive through them for an
hour or so, or until these gentlemen are satisfied.They’re not wild,
are they, Mac?”
I assured every one that the cattle were unusually gentle; that we had
not had a run so far, but urged caution in approaching them with a
conveyance.As soon as the relief started, I brought in the livery team
off picket, watered, and harnessed them into the vehicle.It was my
intention to accompany them on horseback, but Siringo hooted at the
idea, and Mr. Radcliff and I occupied the back seat, puffing splendid
cigars.We met the relieved men coming in, who informed us that the
herd was just over the hill on the south side of the creek.On reaching
the gentle rise, there below us grazed the logy, lazy beeves, while the
boys quietly rode round, silently moving them together as instructed.Siringo drove to their lead, and halting, we allowed the cattle to
loiter past us on either side of the conveyance. It was an easy herd to
show, for the pounds avoirdupois were there.Numerous big steers, out
of pure curiosity, came up near the vehicle and innocently looked at us
as if expecting a dole or sweetmeat. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
A snap of the finger would turn
them, showing their rounded buttocks, and they would rejoin the guard
of honor.If eyes could speak, the invitation was timidly extended,
“Look at me, Mr. Buyer.” We allowed the herd to pass by us, then slowly
circled entirely around them, and finally drove back and forth through
them for nearly two hours, when the prospective buyers expressed
themselves as satisfied.But the fiscal agent was not. Calling two of the boys, he asked for the
loan of their horses and insisted that the buyers ride the cattle over
and thoroughly satisfy themselves on the brands.The boys gladly
yielded, and as Mr. Field and Mr. Radcliff mounted to ride away, the
detective halted them long enough to say: “Now, gentlemen, I wish to
call your attention to the fact that over one half the herd are in the
single Marshall ranch brand.There are also some five hundred head in
the ‘8=8,’ that being an outside ranch, but belonging to the estate.I
am informed that the remainder of nearly a thousand were turned in by
neighboring ranchmen in making up the herd, and you’ll find those in
various mixed brands.If there’s a hoof among them not in the ‘Open A’
road, we’ll cut them out for fear of trouble to the buyer. I never sold
a man cattle in my life who wasn’t my customer ever afterward.You
gentlemen are strangers to me; and for that reason I conceal nothing.Now look them over carefully, and keep a sharp lookout for
strays—cattle not in the road brand.”
I knew there were about twenty strays in the herd, and informed Siringo
to that effect, but the cattle buyers noticed only two, a red and a
roan, which again classed them as inexperienced men among cattle.We
returned to camp, not a word being said about trading, when the buyers
suggested returning to town.Siringo looked at his watch, asked if
there was anything further they wished to see or know, and expressed
himself like a true Texan, “that there was ample time.” I was the only
one who had alighted, and as they started to drive away, I said to
Siringo: “Charley, let me talk to you a minute first.You see how I’m
situated here—too many neighbors. I’m going to ride north of town
to-morrow, and if I can find a good camp on Saw Log, why I’ll move
over. We are nearly out of supplies, anyhow, and the wagon can go by
town and load up.There’s liable to be a mix-up here some night on the
Mulberry, and I’d rather be excused than present.”
“That’s all right, Mac; that’s just what I want you to do.If we trade,
we’ll make the deal within a day or two, and if not you can start right
on for Ogalalla.I’ve been selling cattle the last few years to the
biggest feeders in Nebraska, and I’m not a little bit afraid of placing
those ‘Open A’s.’ About four months full feed on corn will fit those
steers to go to any market.Drop into town on your way back from the
Saw Log to-morrow.”
That evening my brother Bob rode into camp. He had seen our employer at
Supply, and accordingly understood the situation.The courier had
returned from Fort Elliott and reported his mission successful; he had
met both Forrest and Sponsilier. The latter had had a slight run in the
Panhandle during a storm, losing a few cattle, which he recovered the
next day.For fear of a repetition, Forrest had taken the lead
thereafter, and was due at Supply within a day or two.Flood and Priest
had passed Abilene, Texas, in safety, but no word had reached our
employer since, and it was believed that they had turned eastward and
would come up the Chisholm Trail.Bob reported the country between
Abilene and Doan’s Crossing as cut into dust and barren of sustenance,
many weak cattle having died in crossing the dry belt.But the most
startling news, seriously disturbing us both, was that Archie Tolleston
was stationed at Doan’s Crossing on Red River as a trail-cutter.He had
come up from the south to Wichita Falls by train with trail cattle, and
finding no opening as a foreman, had accepted the position of inspector
for some Panhandle cattle companies.He and Bob had had a friendly
chat, and Archie admitted that it was purely his own hot-headedness
which prevented his being one of Lovell’s foremen on the present drive.The disturbing feature was, that after leaving headquarters in Medina
County, he had gone into San Antonio, where he met a couple of
strangers who partially promised him a job as trail boss, in case he
presented himself in Dodge about June 15.They had intimated to him
that it was possible they would need a foreman or two who knew the
trail from the Arkansaw to the Yellowstone and Missouri River country.Putting this and that together, the presence of Archie Tolleston in
Dodge was not at all favorable to the working out of our plans. “And
Arch isn’t the man to forget a humiliation,” concluded Bob, to which I
agreed.The next morning I rode across to the Saw Log, and up that creek beyond
all the herds. The best prospect for a camp was nearly due north
opposite us, as the outfit lowest down the stream expected to start for
the Platte the next morning.Having fully made up my mind to move camp,
I rode for town, taking dinner on Duck Creek, which was also littered
with cattle and outfits.I reached town early in the afternoon, and
after searching all the hotels, located the fiscal agent in company
with the buyers at the Lone Star saloon.They were seated around a
table, and Mr. Field, noticing my entrance, beckoned me over and
offered a chair.As I took the proffered seat, both strangers turned on
me, and Mr. Radcliff said: “McIndoo, this agent of yours is the hardest
man I ever tried to trade with.Here we’ve wasted the whole morning
dickering, and are no nearer together than when we started.The only
concession which Mr. Siringo seems willing to admit is that cattle are
off from three to five dollars a head, while we contend that heavy
beeves are off seven dollars.”
“Excuse me for interrupting,” said the fiscal agent, “but since you
have used the words HEAVY BEEVES, either one of you ask Mac, here, what
those ‘Open A’s’ will dress to-day, and what they ought to gain in the
next three months on good grass and water.There he sits; ask him.”
Mr. Field explained that they had also differed as to what the herd
would dress out, and invited my opinion. “Those beeves will dress off
from forty-five to fifty per cent.,” I replied.“The Texan being a
gaunt animal does not shrink like a domestic beef. Take that ‘Open A’
herd straight through and they will dress from four fifty to six
hundred pounds, or average better than five hundred all round.In three
months, under favorable conditions, those steers ought to easily put on
a hundred pounds of tallow apiece. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Who could refuse
such a reasonable request?The herd had started on for the Saw Log,
while the remuda had wandered down the river about half a mile, and it
took us nearly an hour to give them a thorough inspection.Once by
ourselves, the detective said, with a chuckle: “All I was playing for
was to get as large a cash payment as possible.Those mixed brands were
my excuse for the money; the Marshall estate might wait for theirs, but
the small ranchmen would insist on an immediate settlement the moment
the cattle were reported sold.If it wasn’t for this fellow Tolleston,
I’d sell the other two Buford herds the day they arrive, and then we
could give The Western Supply Company the laugh.And say, when they
drew me a draft for thirty thousand dollars on a Washington City bank,
I never let the ink dry on it until I took it around to Wright, Beverly
& Co., and had them wire its acceptance.We’ll give Seay plenty of
time, and I think there’ll be an answer on the check when we get back
to town.”
CHAPTER VIII. EN PASSANT
It was intentionally late in the day when we reached Dodge.My horse,
which I was leading, gave considerable trouble while returning,
compelling us to drive slow.The buyers repeatedly complained that
dinner would be over at their hotel, but the detective knew of a good
restaurant and promised all of us a feast.On reaching town, we drove
to the stable where the rig belonged, and once free of the horses,
Siringo led the way to a well-known night-and-day eating-house on a
back street.No sooner had we entered the place than I remembered
having my wagon in town, and the necessity of its reaching camp before
darkness made my excuse imperative.I hurried around to the outfitting
house and found the order filled and all ready to load into the wagon. But Parent was missing, and in skirmishing about to locate him, I met
my brother Bob.Tolleston had arrived, but his presence had not been
discovered until after Seay reached town. Archie was fairly well
“organized” and had visited the hotel where the buyers were stopping,
leaving word for them of his arrival.My brother and Seay had told him
that they had met, down the trail that morning, two cattle buyers by
the name of Field and Radcliff; that they were inquiring for a herd
belonging to Tom Coleman, which was believed to be somewhere between
Dodge and the Cimarron River.The two had assured Tolleston that the
buyers might not be back for a week, and suggested a few drinks in
memory of old times.As Archie was then three sheets in the wind, his
effacement, in the hands of two rounders like Dorg Seay and Bob Quirk,
was an easy matter. Once the wagon was loaded and started for camp, I returned to the
restaurant.The dinner was in progress, and taking the vacant seat, I
lifted my glass with great regularity as toast after toast was drunk.Cigars were ordered, and with our feet on the table, the fiscal agent
said: “Gentlemen, this is a mere luncheon and don’t count. But if I’m
able to sell you my other two beef herds, why, I’ll give you a blow-out
right.We’ll make it six-handed—the three trail foremen and
ourselves—and damn the expense so long as the cattle are sold. Champagne will flow like water, and when our teeth float, we’ll wash
our feet in what’s left.”
At a late hour the dinner ended.We were all rather unsteady on our
feet, but the pock-marked detective and myself formed a guard of honor
in escorting the buyers to their hotel, when an officious clerk
attempted to deliver Tolleston’s message.But anticipating it, I
interrupted his highness and informed him that we had met the party; I
was a thousand times obliged to him for his kindness, and forced on him
a fine cigar, which had been given me by Bob Wright of the outfitting
store.While Siringo and the buyers passed upstairs, I entertained the
office force below with an account of the sale of my herd, constantly
referring to my new employers.The fiscal agent returned shortly,
bought some cigars at the counter, asked if he could get a room for the
night, in case he was detained in town, and then we passed out of the
hotel.This afforded me the first opportunity to notify Siringo of the
presence of Tolleston, and I withheld nothing which was to his interest
to know.But he was impatient to learn if the draft had been accepted,
and asking me to bring my brother to his room within half an hour, he
left me. It was growing late in the day.The sun had already set when I found my
brother, who was anxious to return to his camp for the night. But I
urged his seeing Siringo first, and after waiting in the latter’s room
some time, he burst in upon us with a merry chuckle.“Well, the draft
was paid all right,” said he; “and this is Bob Quirk. Boys, things are
coming nicely. This fellow Tolleston is the only cloud in the sky.If
we can keep him down for a week, and the other herds come in shortly, I
see nothing to thwart our plans. Where have you picketed Tolleston?”
“Around in Dutch Jake’s crib,” replied Bob.“That’s good,” continued the fiscal agent, “and I’ll just drop in
to-night and see the madam. A little money will go a long way with her,
and in a case like this, the devil himself would be a welcome ally.You
boys stay in town as much as you can and keep Tolleston snowed deep,
and I’ll take the buyers down the trail in the morning and meet the
herds coming up.”
My brother returned to his camp, and Siringo and I separated for the
time being.In ’84 Dodge, the Port Said of the plains, was in the full
flower of her wickedness. Literally speaking, night was turned into day
in the old trail town, for with the falling of darkness, the streets
filled with people.Restaurants were crowded with women of the
half-world, bar-rooms thronged with the wayfaring man, while in
gambling and dance halls the range men congregated as if on special
invitation.The familiar bark of the six-shooter was a matter of almost
nightly occurrence; a dispute at the gaming table, a discourteous word
spoken, or the rivalry for the smile of a wanton was provocation for
the sacrifice of human life.Here the man of the plains reverted to and
gave utterance to the savagery of his nature, or, on the other hand,
was as chivalrous as in the days of heraldry.I knew the town well, this being my third trip over the trail, and
mingled with the gathering throng. Near midnight, and when in the Lady
Gay dance-hall, I was accosted by Dorg Seay and the detective.They had
just left Dutch Jake’s, and reported all quiet on the Potomac. Seay had
not only proved himself artful, but a good fellow, and had unearthed
the fact that Tolleston had been in the employ of Field and Radcliff
for the past three months.“You see,” said Dorg, “Archie never knew me
except the few days that I was about headquarters in Medina before we
started. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
On reaching town, our numbers were augmented by fully twenty more
from the other Lovell outfits, including the three foremen.My old
bunkie, The Rebel, nearly dragged me from my horse, while Forrest and I
forgot past differences over a social glass.And then there was Flood,
my first foreman, under whom I served my apprenticeship on the trail,
the same quiet, languid old Jim.The various foremen and their outfits
were aware of the impending trouble over the Buford delivery, and
quietly expressed their contempt for such underhand dealings.Quince
Forrest had spent the evening before in town, and about midnight his
herd of “Drooping T’s” were sold at about the same figures as mine,
except five thousand more earnest-money, and the privilege of the
buyers placing their own foreman in charge thereafter.Forrest further
reported that the fiscal agent and the strangers had started to meet
Sponsilier early that morning, and that the probability of all the
herds moving out in a few days was good.Seay and his charge were still absent, and the programme, as outlined,
was working out nicely.With the exception of Forrest and myself, the
other foremen were busy looking after their outfits, while Bob Quirk
had his wagon to load and start on its return.Quince confided to me
that though he had stayed on Duck Creek the night before, his herd
would noon that day on Saw Log, and camp that evening on the next creek
north.When pressed for his reasons, he shrugged his shoulders, and
with a quiet wink, said: “If this new outfit put a man over me, just
the minute we get out of the jurisdiction of this county, off his horse
he goes and walks back.If it’s Tolleston, the moment he sees me and
recognizes my outfit as belonging to Lovell, he’ll raise the long yell
and let the cat out.When that happens, I want to be in an unorganized
country where a six-shooter is the highest authority.” The idea was a
new one to me, and I saw the advantage of it, but could not move
without Siringo’s permission, which Forrest had.Accordingly about
noon, Quince summoned his men together, and they rode out of town. Looking up a map of Ford County, I was delighted to find that my camp
on Saw Log was but a few miles below the north line.Among the boys the day passed in riotousness. The carousing was a
necessary stimulant after the long, monotonous drive and exposure to
the elements.Near the middle of the forenoon, Flood and The Rebel
rounded up their outfits and started south for the Mulberry, while Bob
Quirk gathered his own and my lads preparatory to leaving for the Saw
Log.I had agreed to remain on guard for that night, for with the
erratic turn on Tolleston’s part, we were doubly cautious.But when my
outfit was ready to start, Runt Pickett, the feisty little rascal, had
about twenty dollars in his possession which he insisted on gambling
away before leaving town.Runt was comfortably drunk, and as Bob urged
humoring him, I gave my consent, provided he would place it all at one
bet, to which Pickett agreed.Leaving the greater part of the boys
holding the horses, some half-dozen of us entered the nearest
gambling-house, and Runt bet nineteen dollars “Alce” on the first card
which fell in a monte lay-out. To my chagrin, he won.My brother was
delighted over the little rascal’s luck, and urged him to double his
bet, but Pickett refused and invited us all to have a drink.Leaving
this place, we entered the next gaming-hall, when our man again bet
nineteen dollars alce on the first card.Again he won, and we went the
length of the street, Runt wagering nineteen dollars alce on the first
card for ten consecutive times without losing a bet.In his groggy
condition, the prospect of losing Pickett’s money was hopeless, and my
brother and I promised him that he might come back the next morning and
try to get rid of his winnings.Two whole days passed with no report from either Seay or the buyers.Meanwhile Flood and The Rebel threaded their way through the other
herds, crossing the Arkansaw above town, their wagons touching at Dodge
for new supplies, never halting except temporarily until they reached
the creek on which Forrest was encamped.The absence of Siringo and the
buyers, to my thinking, was favorable, for no doubt when they came in,
a deal would have been effected on the last of the Buford herds.They
returned some time during the night of the third day out, and I failed
to see the detective before sunrise the next morning. When I did meet
him, everything seemed so serene that I felt jubilant over the outlook.Sponsilier’s beeves had firmly caught the fancy of the buyers, and the
delay in closing the trade was only temporary. “I can close the deal
any minute I want to,” said Siringo to me, “but we mustn’t appear too
anxious.Old man Don’s idea was to get about one hundred thousand
dollars earnest-money in hand, but if I can get five or ten more, it
might help tide us all over a hard winter.My last proposition to the
buyers was that if they would advance forty-five thousand dollars on
the ‘Apple’ beeves—Sponsilier’s cattle—they might appoint, at the
seller’s expense, their own foreman from Dodge to the point of
delivery.They have agreed to give me an answer this morning, and after
sleeping over it, I look for no trouble in closing the trade.”
The buyers were also astir early. I met Mr. Field in the post-office,
where he was waiting for it to open.To his general inquiries I
reported everything quiet, but suggested we move camp soon or the
cattle would become restless.He listened very attentively, and
promised that within a few days permission would be given to move out
for our final destination.The morning were the quiet hours of the
town, and when the buyers had received and gone over their large and
accumulated mail, the partners came over to the Dodge House, looking
for the fiscal agent, as I supposed, to close the trade on Sponsilier’s
cattle.Siringo was the acme of indifference, but listened to a
different tale. A trusted man, in whom they had placed a great deal of
confidence, had failed to materialize. He was then overdue some four or
five days, and foul play was suspected.The wily detective poured oil
on the troubled waters, assuring them if their man failed to appear
within a day or two, he would gladly render every assistance in looking
him up.Another matter of considerable moment would be the arrival that
morning of a silent partner, the financial man of the firm from
Washington, D.C.He was due to arrive on the “Cannon Ball” at eight
o’clock, and we all sauntered down to meet the train from the East. On
its arrival, Siringo and I stood back among the crowd, but the buyers
pushed forward, looking for their friend.The first man to alight from
the day coach, coatless and with both eyes blackened, was Archie
Tolleston; he almost fell into the arms of our cattle buyers.I
recognized Archie at a glance, and dragging the detective inside the
waiting-room, posted him as to the arrival with the wild look and
blood-shot optics. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Our location was an unknown quantity.All agreed that we were fully ten miles north of the Saw Log, and, with
the best reasoning at my command, outside the jurisdiction of Ford
County.The regular trail leading north was some six or eight miles to
the west, and fearful that we had not reached unorganized territory, I
was determined to push farther on our course before veering to the
left.The night halt, however, afforded us an opportunity to compare
notes and arrive at some definite understanding as to the programme of
the forthcoming day.“Quirk, you missed the sight of your life,” said
Jake Blair, as we dismounted around the wagon, after bedding the
cattle, “by not being there when the discovery was made that these
‘Open A’s’ were Don Lovell’s cattle.Tolleston, of course, made the
discovery; but I think he must have smelt the rat in advance.Archie
and the buyers arrived for a late dinner, and several times Tolleston
ran his eye over one of the boys and asked, ‘Haven’t I met you
somewhere?’ but none of them could recall the meeting.Then he got to
nosing around the wagon and noticing every horse about camp. The
road-brand on the cattle threw him off the scent just for a second, but
when he began reading the ranch-brands, he took a new hold.As he
looked over the remuda, the scent seemed to get stronger, and when he
noticed the ‘Circle Dot’ on those work-mules, he opened up and bayed as
if he had treed something.And sure enough he had; for you know, Tom,
those calico lead mules belonged in his team last year, and he swore
he’d know them in hell, brand or no brand.When Archie announced the
outfit, lock, stock, and barrel, as belonging to Don Lovell, the old
buyers turned pale as ghosts, and the fat one took off his hat and
fanned himself. That act alone was worth the price of admission.But
when we boys were appealed to, we were innocent and likewise ignorant,
claiming that we always understood that the herd belonged to the
Marshall estate, but then we were just common hands and not supposed to
know the facts in the case.Tolleston argued one way, and we all pulled
the other, so they drove away, looking as if they hoped it wasn’t true.But it was the sight of your life to see that fat fellow fan himself as
he kept repeating, ‘I thought you boys hurried too much in buying these
cattle.’”
The guards changed hourly.No fire was allowed, but Parent set out all
the cold food available, and supplementing this with canned goods, we
had a midnight lunch.Dorg Seay regaled the outfit with his recent
experience, concealing nothing, and regretfully admitting that his
charge had escaped before the work was finished.A programme was
outlined for the morrow, the main feature of which was that, in case of
pursuit, we would all tell the same story.Dawn came between three and
four on those June mornings, and with the first streak of gray in the
east we divided the outfit and mounted our horses, part riding to push
the cattle off their beds and the others to round in the remuda.Before
the herd had grazed out a half-mile, we were overtaken by half the
outfit on fresh mounts, who at once took charge of the herd.When the
relieved men had secured horses, I remained behind and assisted in
harnessing in the team and gathering the saddle stock, a number of
which were missed for lack of proper light.With the wagon once
started, Levering and myself soon had the full remuda in hand and were
bringing up the rear in a long, swinging trot.Before the sun peeped
over the eastern horizon, we passed the herd and overtook the wagon,
which was bumping along over the uneven prairie.Ordering the cook to
have breakfast awaiting us beyond a divide which crossed our front, I
turned back to the herd, now strung out in regular trailing form. The
halt ahead would put us full fifteen miles north of our camp on the Saw
Log.An hour later, as we were scaling the divide, one of the point-men
sighted a posse in our rear, coming after us like fiends.I was riding
in the swing at the time, the herd being strung out fully a mile, and
on catching first sight of the pursuers, turned and hurried to the
rear.To my agreeable surprise, instead of a sheriff’s posse, my
brother and five of his men galloped up and overtook us. “Well, Tom, it’s a good thing you moved last night,” said Bob, as he
reined in his reeking horse.“A deputy sheriff and posse of six men had
me under arrest all night, thinking I was the Quirk who had charge of
Don Lovell’s ‘Open A’ herd.Yes, they came to my camp about midnight,
and I admitted that my name was Quirk and that we were holding Lovell’s
cattle.They guarded me until morning,—I slept like an innocent babe
myself,—when the discovery was made that my herd was in a ‘Circle Dot’
road-brand instead of an ‘Open A,’ which their warrant called for.Besides, I proved by fourteen competent witnesses, who had known me for
years, that my name was Robert Burns Quirk.My outfit told the posse
that the herd they were looking for were camped three miles below, but
had left during the afternoon before, and no doubt were then beyond
their bailiwick.I gave the posse the horse-laugh, but they all went
down the creek, swearing they would trail down that herd of Lovell’s.My cattle are going to follow up this morning, so I thought I’d ride on
ahead and be your guest in case there is any fun to-day.”
The auxiliary was welcomed. The beeves moved on up the divide like
veterans assaulting an intrenchment.On reaching a narrow mesa on the
summit, a northwest breeze met the leaders, and facing it full in the
eye, the herd was allowed to tack westward as they went down the
farther slope.This watershed afforded a fine view of the surrounding
country, and from its apex I scanned our rear for miles without
detecting any sign of animate life. From our elevation, the plain
dipped away in every direction.Far to the east, the depression seemed
as real as a trough in the ocean when seen from the deck of a ship.The
meanderings of this divide were as crooked as a river, and as we
surveyed its course one of Bob’s men sighted with the naked eye two
specks fully five miles distant to the northwest, and evidently in the
vicinity of the old trail.The wagon was in plain view, and leaving
three of my boys to drift the cattle forward, we rode away with
ravenous appetites to interview the cook.Parent maintained his
reputation as host, and with a lofty conversation reviewed the legal
aspect of the situation confronting us.A hasty breakfast over, my
brother asked for mounts for himself and men; and as we were corralling
our remuda, one of the three lads on herd signaled to us from the
mesa’s summit.Catching the nearest horses at hand, and taking our
wrangler with us, we cantered up the slope to our waiting sentinel. “You can’t see them now,” said Burl Van Vedder, our outlook; “but wait
a few minutes and they’ll come up on higher ground.Here, here, you are
looking a mile too far to the right—they’re not following the cattle,
but the wagon’s trail. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
Keep your eyes to the left of that shale
outcropping, and on a line with that lone tree on the Saw Log.Hold
your horses a minute; I’ve been watching them for half an hour before I
called you; be patient, and they’ll rise like a trout. There! there
comes one on a gray horse. See those two others just behind him.Now,
there come the others—six all told.” Sure enough, there came the
sleuths of deputy sheriffs, trailing up our wagon.They were not over
three miles away, and after patiently waiting nearly an hour, we rode
to the brink of the slope, and I ordered one of the boys to fire his
pistol to attract their attention.On hearing the report, they halted,
and taking off my hat I waved them forward. Feeling that we were on
safe territory, I was determined to get in the first bluff, and as they
rode up, I saluted the leader and said:
“Good-morning, Mr. Sheriff.What are you fooling along on our wagon
track for, when you could have trailed the herd in a long lope?Here
we’ve wasted a whole hour waiting for you to come up, just because the
sheriff’s office of Ford County employs as deputies ‘nesters’ instead
of plainsmen.But now since you are here, let us proceed to business,
or would you like to breakfast first? Our wagon is just over the other
slope, and you-all look pale around the gills this morning after your
long ride and sleepless night.Which shall it be, business or
breakfast?”
Haughtily ignoring my irony, the leader of the posse drew from his
pocket several papers, and first clearing his throat, said in an
imperious tone, “I have a warrant here for the arrest of Tom Quirk,
alias McIndoo, and a distress warrant for a herd of ‘Open A’—”
“Old sport, you’re in the right church, but the wrong pew,” I
interrupted.“This may be the state of Kansas, but at present we are
outside the bailiwick of Ford County, and those papers of yours are
useless.Let me take those warrants and I’ll indorse them for you, so
as to dazzle your superiors on their return without the man or
property.I was deputized once by a constable in Texas to assist in
recovering some cattle, but just like the present case they got out of
our jurisdiction before we overtook them.The constable was a lofty,
arrogant fellow like yourself, but had sense enough to keep within his
rights.But when it came to indorsing the warrant for return, we were
all up a stump, and rode twenty miles out of our way so as to pass
Squire Little’s ranch and get his advice on the matter.The squire had
been a justice in Tennessee before coming to our state, and knew just
what to say. Now let me take those papers, and I’ll indorse them ‘Non
est inventus,’ which is Latin for SCOOTED, BY GOSH!Ain’t you going to
let me have them?”
“Now, look here, young man,” scornfully replied the chief deputy,
“I’ll—”
“No, you won’t,” I again interrupted. “Let me read you a warrant from a
higher court.In the name of law, you are willing to prostitute your
office to assist a gang of thieves who have taken advantage of an
opportunity to ruin my employer, an honest trail drover.The warrant
I’m serving was issued by Judge Colt, and it says he is supreme in
unorganized territory; that your official authority ceases the moment
you step outside your jurisdiction, and you know the Ford County line
is behind us.Now, as a citizen, I’ll treat you right, but as an
official, I won’t even listen to you. And what’s more, you can’t arrest
me or any man in my outfit; not that your hair’s the wrong color, but
because you lack authority.I’m the man you’re looking for, and these
are Don Lovell’s cattle, but you can’t touch a hoof of them, not even a
stray. Now, if you want to dispute the authority which I’ve sighted,
all you need to do is pull your guns and open your game.”
“Mr.Quirk,” said the deputy, “you are a fugitive from justice, and I
can legally take you wherever I find you. If you resist arrest, all the
worse, as it classes you an outlaw.Now, my advice is—”
But the sentence was never finished, for coming down the divide like a
hurricane was a band of horsemen, who, on sighting us, raised the long
yell, and the next minute Dave Sponsilier and seven of his men dashed
up.The boys opened out to avoid the momentum of the onslaught, but the
deputies sat firm; and as Sponsilier and his lads threw their horses
back on their haunches in halting, Dave stood in his stirrups, and
waving his hat shouted, “Hurrah for Don Lovell, and to hell with the
sheriff and deputies of Ford County!” Sponsilier and I were great
friends, as were likewise our outfits, and we nearly unhorsed each
other in our rough but hearty greetings.When quiet was once more
restored, Dave continued: “I was in Dodge last night, and Bob Wright
put me next that the sheriff was going to take possession of two of old
man Don’s herds this morning.You can bet your moccasins that the grass
didn’t grow very much while I was getting back to camp. Flood and The
Rebel took fifteen men and went to Quince’s support, and I have been
scouting since dawn trying to locate you.Yes, the sheriff himself and
five deputies passed up the trail before daybreak to arrest Forrest and
take possession of his herd—I don’t think. I suppose these strangers
are deputy sheriffs?If it was me, do you know what I’d do with them?”
The query was half a command. It required no order, for in an instant
the deputies were surrounded, and had it not been for the cool judgment
of Bob Quirk, violence would have resulted.The primitive mind is slow
to resent an affront, and while the chief deputy had couched his last
remarks in well-chosen language, his intimation that I was a fugitive
from justice, and an outlaw in resisting arrest, was tinder to stubble.Knowing the metal of my outfit, I curbed the tempest within me, and
relying on a brother whom I would gladly follow to death if need be, I
waved hands off to my boys.“Now, men,” said Bob to the deputies, “the
easiest way out of this matter is the best. No one here has committed
any crime subjecting him to arrest, neither can you take possession of
any cattle belonging to Don Lovell.I’ll renew the invitation for you
to go down to the wagon and breakfast, or I’ll give you the best
directions at my command to reach Dodge.Instead of trying to attempt
to accomplish your object you had better go back to the
chaparral—you’re spelled down. Take your choice, men.”
Bob’s words had a soothing effect. He was thirty-three years old and a
natural born leader among rough men.His advice carried the steely ring
of sincerity, and for the first time since the meeting, the deputies
wilted. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
The chief one called his men aside, and after a brief
consultation my brother was invited to join them, which he did.I
afterwards learned that Bob went into detail in defining our position
in the premises, and the posse, once they heard the other side of the
question, took an entirely different view of the matter.While the
consultation was in progress, we all dismounted; cigarettes were
rolled, and while the smoke arose in clouds, we reviewed the interim
since we parted in March in old Medina.The sheriff’s posse accompanied
my brother to the wagon, and after refreshing themselves, remounted
their horses. Bob escorted them back across the summit of the mesa, and
the olive branch waved in peace on the divide.The morning was not far advanced. After a brief consultation, the two
older foremen urged that we ride to the relief of Forrest. A hint was
sufficient, and including five of my best-mounted men, a posse of
twenty of us rode away.We held the divide for some distance on our
course, and before we left it, a dust-cloud, indicating the presence of
Bob’s herd, was sighted on the southern slope, while on the opposite
one my cattle were beginning to move forward.Sponsilier knew the
probable whereabouts of Forrest, and under his lead we swung into a
free gallop as we dropped down the northern slope from the mesa.The
pace was carrying us across country at a rate of ten miles an hour,
scarcely a word being spoken, as we shook out kink after kink in our
horses or reined them in to recover their wind.Our objective point was
a slight elevation on the plain, from which we expected to sight the
trail if not the herds of Flood, Forrest, and The Rebel.On reaching
this gentle swell, we reined in and halted our horses, which were then
fuming with healthy sweat. Both creek and trail were clearly outlined
before us, but with the heat-waves and mirages beyond, our view was
naturally restricted.Sponsilier felt confident that Forrest was north
of the creek and beyond the trail, and again shaking out our horses, we
silently put the intervening miles behind us.Our mounts were all fresh
and strong, and in crossing the creek we allowed them a few swallows of
water before continuing our ride.We halted again in crossing the
trail, but it was so worn by recent use that it afforded no clue to
guide us in our quest. But from the next vantage-point which afforded
us a view, a sea of cattle greeted our vision, all of which seemed
under herd.Wagon sheets were next sighted, and finally a horseman
loomed up and signaled to us. He proved to be one of Flood’s men, and
under his direction Forrest’s camp and cattle were soon located.The
lad assured us that a pow-wow had been in session since daybreak, and
we hurried away to add our numbers to its council.When we sighted
Forrest’s wagon among some cottonwoods, a number of men were just
mounting to ride away, and before we reached camp, they crossed the
creek heading south. A moment later, Forrest walked out, and greeting
us, said:
“Hello, fellows.Get down and let your horses blow and enjoy
yourselves. You’re just a minute late to meet some very nice people. Yes, we had the sheriff from Dodge and a posse of men for breakfast.No—no particular trouble, except John Johns, the d—fool, threw the loop
of his rope over the neck of the sheriff’s horse, and one of the party
offered to unsling a carbine.But about a dozen six-shooters clicked
within hearing, and he acted on my advice and cut gun-plays out. No
trouble at all except a big medicine talk, and a heap of legal phrases
that I don’t sabe very clear.Turn your horses loose, I tell you, for
I’m going to kill a nice fat stray, and towards evening, when the other
herds come up, we’ll have a round-up of Don Lovell’s outfits.I’ll make
a little speech, and on account of the bloodless battle this morning,
this stream will be rechristened Sheriff’s Creek.”
CHAPTER X.A FAMILY REUNION
The hospitality of a trail wagon was aptly expressed in the invitation
to enjoy ourselves.Some one had exercised good judgment in selecting a
camp, for every convenience was at hand, including running water and
ample shade from a clump of cottonwoods.Turning our steaming horses
free, we threw ourselves, in complete abandonment and relaxation, down
in the nearest shade.Unmistakable hints were given our host of certain
refreshments which would be acceptable, and in reply Forrest pointed to
a bucket of creek water near the wagon wheel, and urged us not to be at
all backward.Every one was well fortified with brown cigarette papers and smoking
tobacco, and singly and in groups we were soon smoking like hired hands
and reviewing the incidents of the morning.Forrest’s cook, a tall,
red-headed fellow, in anticipation of the number of guests his wagon
would entertain for the day, put on the little and the big pot.As it
only lacked an hour of noon on our arrival, the promised fresh beef
would not be available in time for dinner; but we were not like guests
who had to hurry home—we would be right there when supper was ready.The loss of a night’s sleep on my outfit was a good excuse for an
after-dinner siesta. Untying our slickers, we strolled out of hearing
of the camp, and for several hours obliterated time.About three
o’clock Bob Quirk aroused and informed us that he had ordered our
horses, and that the signal of Sponsilier’s cattle had been seen south
on the trail.Dave was impatient to intercept his herd and camp them
well down the creek, at least below the regular crossing.This would
throw Bob’s and my cattle still farther down the stream; and we were
all determined to honor Forrest with our presence for supper and the
evening hours.Quince’s wrangler rustled in the horses, and as we
rejoined the camp the quarters of a beef hung low on a cottonwood,
while a smudge beneath them warned away all insect life.Leaving word
that we would return during the evening, the eleventh-hour guests rode
away in the rough, uneven order in which we had arrived.Sponsilier and
his men veered off to the south, Bob Quirk and his lads soon following,
while the rest of us continued on down the creek.My cattle were
watering when we overtook them, occupying fully a mile of the stream,
and nearly an hour’s ride below the trail crossing.It takes a long
time to water a big herd thoroughly, and we repeatedly turned them back
and forth across the creek, but finally allowed them to graze away with
a broad, fan-like front.As ours left the stream, Bob’s cattle were
coming in over a mile above, and in anticipation of a dry camp that
night, Parent had been advised to fill his kegs and supply himself with
wood.Detailing the third and fourth guard to wrangle the remuda, I sent
Levering up the creek with my brother’s horses and to recover our
loaned saddle stock; even Bob Quirk was just thoughtless enough to
construe a neighborly act into a horse trade.About two miles out from
the creek and an equal distance from the trail, I found the best
bed-ground of the trip. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
It sloped to the northwest, was covered with
old dry grass, and would catch any vagrant breeze except an eastern
one.The wagon was ordered into camp, and the first and second guards
were relieved just long enough to secure their night-horses.Nearly all
of these two watches had been with me during the day, and on the return
of Levering with the horses, we borrowed a number of empty flour-sacks
for beef, and cantered away, leaving behind only the cook and the first
two guards.What an evening and night that was! As we passed up the creek, we
sighted in the gathering twilight the camp-fires of Sponsilier and my
brother, several miles apart and south of the stream.When we reached
Forrest’s wagon the clans were gathering, The Rebel and his crowd being
the last to come in from above. Groups of saddle horses were tied among
the trees, while around two fires were circles of men broiling beef
over live coals.The red-headed cook had anticipated forty guests
outside of his own outfit, and was pouring coffee into tin cups and
shying biscuit right and left on request.The supper was a success, not
on account of the spread or our superior table manners, but we graced
the occasion with appetites which required the staples of life to
satisfy. Then we smoked, falling into groups when the yarning began.All the fresh-beef stories of our lives, and they were legion, were
told, no one group paying any attention to another.“Every time I run a-foul of fresh beef,” said The Rebel, as he settled
back comfortably between the roots of a cottonwood, with his back to
its trunk, “it reminds me of the time I was a prisoner among the
Yankees.It was the last year of the war, and I had got over my first
desire to personally whip the whole North. There were about five
thousand of us held as prisoners of war for eleven months on a
peninsula in the Chesapeake Bay.The fighting spirit of the soldier was
broken in the majority of us, especially among the older men and those
who had families. But we youngsters accepted the fortunes of war and
were glad that we were alive, even if we were prisoners.In my mess in
prison there were fifteen, all having been captured at the same time,
and many of us comrades of three years’ standing.“I remember the day we were taken off the train and marched through the
town for the prison, a Yankee band in our front playing national airs
and favorites of their army, and the people along the route jeering us
and asking how we liked the music.Our mess held together during the
march, and some of the boys answered them back as well as they could. Once inside the prison stockade, we went into quarters and our mess
still held together.Before we had been there long, one day there was a
call among the prisoners for volunteers to form a roustabout crew. Well, I enlisted as a roustabout. We had to report to an officer twice
a day, and then were put under guard and set to work.The kind of labor
I liked best was unloading the supplies for the prison, which were
landed on a near-by wharf. This roustabout crew had all the unloading
to do, and the reason I liked it was it gave us some chance to steal.Whenever there was anything extra, intended for the officers, to be
unloaded, look out for accidents. Broken crates were common, and some
of the contents was certain to reach our pockets or stomachs, in spite
of the guard.“I was a willing worker and stood well with the guards.They never
searched me, and when they took us outside the stockade, the captain of
the guard gave me permission, after our work was over, to patronize the
sutler’s store and buy knick-knacks from the booths.There was always
some little money amongst soldiers, even in prison, and I was
occasionally furnished money by my messmates to buy bread from a
baker’s wagon which was outside the walls.Well, after I had traded a
few times with the baker’s boy, I succeeded in corrupting him. Yes, had
him stealing from his employer and selling to me at a discount.I was a
good customer, and being a prisoner, there was no danger of my meeting
his employer. You see the loaves were counted out to him, and he had to
return the equivalent or the bread.At first the bread cost me ten
cents for a small loaf, but when I got my scheme working, it didn’t
cost me five cents for the largest loaves the boy could steal from the
bakery.I worked that racket for several months, and if we hadn’t been
exchanged, I’d have broke that baker, sure. “But the most successful scheme I worked was stealing the kidneys out
of beef while we were handling it.It was some distance from the wharf
to the warehouse, and when I’d get a hind quarter of beef on my
shoulder, it was an easy trick to burrow my hand through the tallow and
get a good grip on the kidney.Then when I’d throw the quarter down in
the warehouse, it would be minus a kidney, which secretly found
lodgment in a large pocket in the inside of my shirt.I was satisfied
with one or two kidneys a day when I first worked the trick, but my
mess caught on, and then I had to steal by wholesale to satisfy them.Some days, when the guards were too watchful, I couldn’t get very many,
and then again when things were lax, ‘Elijah’s Raven’ would get a
kidney for each man in our mess.With the regular allowance of rations
and what I could steal, when the Texas troops were exchanged, our mess
was ragged enough, but pig-fat, and slick as weasels.Lord love you,
but we were a great mess of thieves.”
Nearly all of Flood’s old men were with him again, several of whom were
then in Forrest’s camp.A fight occurred among a group of saddle horses
tied to the front wheel of the wagon, among them being the mount of
John Officer.After the belligerents had been quieted, and Officer had
removed and tied his horse to a convenient tree, he came over and
joined our group, among which were the six trail bosses.Throwing
himself down among us, and using Sponsilier for a pillow and myself for
footstool, he observed:
“All you foremen who have been over the Chisholm Trail remember the
stage-stand called Bull Foot, but possibly some of the boys haven’t.Well, no matter, it’s just about midway between Little Turkey Creek and
Buffalo Springs on that trail, where it runs through the Cherokee
Strip. I worked one year in that northern country—lots of Texas boys
there too.It was just about the time they began to stock that country
with Texas steers, and we rode lines to keep our cattle on their range. You bet, there was riding to do in that country then.The first few
months that these Southern steers are turned loose on a new range,
Lord! but they do love to drift against a breeze. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
In any kind of a
rain-storm, they’ll travel farther in a night than a whole outfit can
turn them back in a day.“Our camp was on the Salt Fork of the Cimarron, and late in the fall
when all the beeves had been shipped, the outfit were riding lines and
loose-herding a lot of Texas yearlings, and mixed cattle, natives to
that range.Up in that country they have Indian summer and Squaw
winter, both occurring in the fall. They have lots of funny weather up
there. Well, late one evening that fall there came an early squall of
Squaw winter, sleeted and spit snow wickedly.The next morning there
wasn’t a hoof in sight, and shortly after daybreak we were riding deep
in our saddles to catch the lead drift of our cattle.After a hard
day’s ride, we found that we were out several hundred head, principally
yearlings of the through Texas stock.You all know how locoed a bunch
of dogies can get—we hunted for three days and for fifty miles in every
direction, and neither hide, hair, nor hoof could we find. It was while
we were hunting these cattle that my yarn commences.“The big augers of the outfit lived in Wichita, Kansas. Their foreman,
Bibleback Hunt, and myself were returning from hunting this missing
bunch of yearlings when night overtook us, fully twenty-five miles from
camp.Then this Bull Foot stage came to mind, and we turned our horses
and rode to it. It was nearly dark when we reached it, and Bibleback
said for me to go in and make the talk.I’ll never forget that nice
little woman who met me at the door of that sod shack. I told her our
situation, and she seemed awfully gracious in granting us food and
shelter for the night.She told us we could either picket our horses or
put them in the corral and feed them hay and grain from the
stage-company’s supply.Now, old Bibleback was what you might call shy
of women, and steered clear of the house until she sent her little boy
out and asked us to come in.Well, we sat around in the room,
owly-like, and to save my soul from the wrath to come, I couldn’t think
of a word that was proper to say to the little woman, busy getting
supper.Bibleback was worse off than I was; he couldn’t do anything but
look at the pictures on the wall. What was worrying me was, had she a
husband? Or what was she doing away out there in that lonesome country?Then a man old enough to be her grandfather put in an appearance. He
was friendly and quite talkative, and I built right up to him. And then
we had a supper that I distinctly remember yet.Well, I should say I
do—it takes a woman to get a good supper, and cheer it with her
presence, sitting at the head of the table and pouring the coffee. “This old man was a retired stage-driver, and was doing the wrangling
act for the stage-horses.After supper I went out to the corral and
wormed the information out of him that the woman was a widow; that her
husband had died before she came there, and that she was from Michigan.Amongst other things that I learned from the old man was that she had
only been there a few months, and was a poor but deserving woman.I
told Bibleback all this after we had gone to bed, and we found that our
finances amounted to only four dollars, which she was more than welcome
to.So the next morning after breakfast, when I asked her what I owed
her for our trouble, she replied so graciously: ‘Why, gentlemen, I
couldn’t think of taking advantage of your necessity to charge you for
a favor that I’m only too happy to grant.’ ‘Oh,’ said I, ‘take this,
anyhow,’ laying the silver on the corner of the table and starting for
the door, when she stopped me.‘One moment, sir; I can’t think of
accepting this. Be kind enough to grant my request,’ and returned the
money. We mumbled out some thanks, bade her good-day, and started for
the corral, feeling like two sheep thieves.While we were saddling
up—will you believe it?—her little boy came out to the corral and gave
each one of us as fine a cigar as ever I buttoned my lip over.Well,
fellows, we had had it put all over us by this little Michigan woman,
till we couldn’t look each other in the face. We were accustomed to
hardship and neglect, but here was genuine kindness enough to kill a
cat.“Until we got within five miles of our camp that morning, old Bibleback
wouldn’t speak to me as we rode along.Then he turned halfway in his
saddle and said: ‘What kind of folks are those?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I
replied, ‘what kind of people they are, but I know they are good ones.’
‘Well, I’ll get even with that little woman if it takes every sou in my
war-bags,’ said Hunt.“When within a mile of camp, Bibleback turned again in his saddle and
asked, ‘When is Christmas?’ ‘In about five weeks,’ I answered. ‘Do you
know where that big Wyoming stray ranges?’ he next asked. I trailed
onto his game in a second.‘Of course I do.’ ‘Well,’ says he, ‘let’s
kill him for Christmas and give that little widow every ounce of the
meat. It’ll be a good one on her, won’t it? We’ll fool her a plenty.Say nothing to the others,’ he added; and giving our horses the rein we
rode into camp on a gallop. “Three days before Christmas we drove up this Wyoming stray and beefed
him.We hung the beef up overnight to harden in the frost, and the next
morning bright and early, we started for the stage-stand with a good
pair of ponies to a light wagon.We reached the widow’s place about
eleven o’clock, and against her protests that she had no use for so
much, we hung up eight hundred pounds of as fine beef as you ever set
your peepers on.We wished her a merry Christmas, jumped into the
wagon, clucked to the ponies, and merely hit the high places getting
away.When we got well out of sight of the house—well, I’ve seen mule
colts play and kid goats cut up their antics; I’ve seen children that
was frolicsome; but for a man with gray hair on his head, old Bibleback
Hunt that day was the happiest mortal I ever saw.He talked to the
horses; he sang songs; he played Injun; and that Christmas was a merry
one, for the debt was paid and our little widow had beef to throw to
the dogs.I never saw her again, but wherever she is to-night, if my
prayer counts, may God bless her!”
Early in the evening I had warned my boys that we would start on our
return at ten o’clock.The hour was nearly at hand, and in reply to my
inquiry if our portion of the beef had been secured, Jack Splann said
that he had cut off half a loin, a side of ribs, and enough steak for
breakfast.Splann and I tied the beef to our cantle-strings, and when
we returned to the group, Sponsilier was telling of the stampede of his
herd in the Panhandle about a month before.“But that run wasn’t a
circumstance to one in which I figured once, and in broad daylight,”
concluded Dave. It required no encouragement to get the story; all we
had to do was to give him time to collect his thoughts.“Yes, it was in the summer of ’73,” he finally continued. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |
We sighted our cattle but once during the afternoon.On locating the
herd, two of my boys left us to return, hearing the message that the
rest of us might not put in an appearance before morning.All during
the evening, I made it a point to cultivate the acquaintance of several
vaqueros, and learned the names of their master and rancho.Taking my
cue from the general information gathered, when we encamped for the
night and all hands, with the exception of those on herd, had finished
catching horses, I attracted their attention by returning the
six-shooter taken from their corporal at noontime.Commanding
attention, in their mother tongue I addressed myself to the Mexican
foreman.“Felipe Esquibil,” said I, looking him boldly in the face, “you were
foreman of this herd from Zavalla County, Texas, to the Arkansaw River,
and brought your cattle through without loss or accident.“The herd changed owners at Dodge, but with the understanding that you
and your vaqueros were to accompany the cattle to this gentleman’s
ranch in the upper country.An accident happens, and because you are
not in full control, you shift the responsibility and play the baby act
by wanting to go home.Had the death of one of your men occurred below
the river, and while the herd was still the property of Don Dionisio of
Rancho Los Olmus, you would have lost your own life before abandoning
your cattle.Now, with the consent and approval of the new owner, you
are again invested with full charge of this herd until you arrive at
the Platte River.A new outfit will relieve you on reaching Ogalalla,
and then you will be paid your reckoning and all go home. In your
immediate rear are five herds belonging to my employer, and I have
already sent warning to them of your attempted desertion.A fortnight
or less will find you relieved, and the only safety in store for you is
to go forward. Now your employer is going to my camp for the night, and
may not see you again before this herd reaches the Platte.Remember,
Don Felipe, that the opportunity is yours to regain your prestige as a
corporal—and you need it after to-day’s actions. What would Don
Dionisio say if he knew the truth? And do you ever expect to face your
friends again at Los Olmus?From a trusted corporal back to a
sheep-shearer would be your reward—and justly.”
Cederdall, Wolf, and myself shook hands with several vaqueros, and
mounting our horses we started for my camp, taking the stranger with
us.Only once did he offer any protest to going. “Very well, then,”
replied G—G, unable to suppress his contempt, “go right back. I’ll
gamble that you sheathe a knife before morning if you do.It strikes me
you don’t sabe Mexicans very much.”
Around the camp-fire that night, the day’s work was reviewed.My rather
drastic treatment of the corporal was fully commented upon and approved
by the outfit, yet provoked an inquiry from the irrepressible Parent.Turning to the questioner, Burl Van Vedder said in dove-like tones:
“Yes, dear, slapped him just to remind the varmint that his feet were
on the earth, and that pawing the air and keening didn’t do any good.Remember, love, there was the living to be fed, the dead to bury, and
the work in hand required every man to do his duty. Now was there
anything else you’d like to know?”
CHAPTER XII.MARSHALING THE FORCES
Both herds had watered in the Smoky during the afternoon. The
stranger’s cattle were not compelled to go down to the crossing, but
found an easy passage several miles above the regular ford.After
leaving the river, both herds were grazed out during the evening, and
when darkness fell we were not over three miles apart, one on either
side of the trail.The Wyoming cowman spent a restless night, and early
the next morning rode to the nearest elevation which would give him a
view of his cattle.Within an hour after sun-up he returned, elated
over the fact that his herd was far in the lead of ours, camp being
already broken, while we were only breakfasting. Matters were working
out just as I expected.The mixed herd under the Mexican corporal, by
moving early and late, could keep the lead of our beeves, and with the
abundance of time at my disposal we were in no hurry.The Kansas
Pacific Railroad was but a few days’ drive ahead, and I advised our
guest to take the train around to Ogalalla and have a new outfit all
ready to relieve the aliens immediately on their arrival.Promising to
take the matter under consideration, he said nothing further for
several days, his cattle in the mean time keeping a lead of from five
to ten miles. The trail crossed the railroad at a switch east of Grinnell.I was
naturally expecting some word from Don Lovell, and it was my intention
to send one of the boys into that station to inquire for mail.There
was a hostelry at Grinnell, several stores and a livery stable, all
dying an easy death from the blight of the arid plain, the town
profiting little or nothing from the cattle trade.But when within a
half-day’s drive of the railway, on overtaking the herd after dinner,
there was old man Don talking to the boys on herd.The cattle were
lying down, and rather than disturb them, he patiently bided his time
until they had rested and arose to resume their journey.The old man
was feeling in fine spirits, something unusual, and declined my urgent
invitation to go back to the wagon and have dinner.I noticed that he
was using his own saddle, though riding a livery horse, and in the
mutual inquiries which were exchanged, learned that he had arrived at
Grinnell but a few days before.He had left Camp Supply immediately
after Forrest and Sponsilier passed that point, and until Siringo came
in with his report, he had spent the time about detective headquarters
in Kansas City.From intimate friends in Dodge, he had obtained the
full particulars of the attempted but unsuccessful move of The Western
Supply Company to take possession of his two herds.In fact there was
very little that I could enlighten him on, except the condition of the
cattle, and they spoke for themselves, their glossy coats shining with
the richness of silk. On the other hand, my employer opened like a
book.“Tom, I think we’re past the worst of it,” said he. “Those Dodge people
are just a trifle too officious to suit me, but Ogalalla is a cow-town
after my own heart.They’re a law unto themselves up there, and a
cowman stands some show—a good one against thieves.Ogalalla is the
seat of an organized county, and the town has officers, it’s true, but
they’ve got sense enough to know which side their bread’s buttered on;
and a cowman who’s on the square has nothing to fear in that town.Yes,
the whole gang, Tolleston and all, are right up here at Ogalalla now;
bought a herd this week, so I hear, and expect to take two of these
away from us the moment we enter Keith County.Well, they may; I’ve
seen bad men before take a town, but it was only a question of time
until the plain citizens retook it. | Adams, Andy - The Outlet |