“Jack!” It was Mr. Livingston who called. “Get up here! It’s late.”
“Coming,” Jack replied.
Swiftly he and Phillipe recovered the vein with earth and by means of the rope climbed out of the tunnel.
“Gosh, do you realize how late it is?” Ken greeted them.
“Does it matter?” Jack asked, still in a land of enchantment. “We found the mine, didn’t we? And look at this!” He flashed the handful of emeralds.
In awe, the others examined the treasure.
“They’re first quality gems, or I’m no judge,” Mr. Livingston asserted. “No wonder Rhodes wants to reestablish himself here.”
“You think he knows the value of the vein?” Jack asked.
“He must. I believe it was because of this vein that he went to so much trouble to set himself up in Corning’s place. He’s kept the knowledge from the miners and probably from company officials, hoping to profit personally!”
“We’ll spike his little game,” Jack chuckled.
“We may,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “The important thing now is to get back to camp.”
“Fast,” Ken added, with an uneasy glance at the lowering sun. “We can’t possibly make it by dark now.”
Before starting back, the Scouts carefully disguised the hole through which Jack had fallen, marking the locality. The work completed, they shouldered their packs and started off at a fast pace.
Though the return trip was much easier, darkness soon overtook them. Doggedly they followed the stream which rushed over the rocks in a foaming, angry torrent.
Unwilling to waste even a moment, the party did not pause to prepare supper. Aching in every muscle, the Scouts nevertheless kept moving.
“Shouldn’t we be coming to the log bridge?” Ken complained after a while.
“Seems like it,” Jack said, halting to shift his pack. “Around this next bend, I think.”
Realization that the long trek was nearing its end gave the four renewed strength. On they went through the darkness. The night air was cold and very still, and the only sound that of the rushing torrent.
Phillipe, who was a little ahead of the other three, abruptly halted. He uttered a grunt of surprise and dismay.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Livingston demanded.
Receiving no answer, he and the Scouts pressed quickly on.
They came upon Phillipe standing on the rocks, staring at the racing stream. For a moment, they could not comprehend the reason for his dead silence.
“Say, isn’t this the place where we crossed this morning?” Jack finally asked, noting several vaguely familiar landmarks.
Phillipe inclined his head. “Same place.”
“But it can’t be!” burst out Ken. “There’s no bridge!”
“Bridge gone. Swept away.”
No one spoke as the full import of Phillipe’s words soaked in.
“Gone,” Jack finally echoed in a faint voice. “That means—”
“We stay here,” Phillipe said, sinking wearily down on a flat rock. “There is no other bridge—no way to cross.”
The situation, though alarming, did not dismay Mr. Livingston or the two Scouts. Knowing that the washed-out log bridge was not far from the mining camp, they reasoned that Willie and War soon would become aware of their plight.
“We’re stranded here for awhile, that’s certain,” Mr. Livingston commented, staring at the foaming waters. “It won’t be easy to build another bridge across that span.”
“Assuming that Rhodes will assign his men to the task,” added Ken gloomily. “He’ll probably be tickled pink that we’re bottled up here.”
“Queer that bridge went out just when it did,” muttered Jack. “It seemed sturdy and secure early this morning when we passed over. Guess the current must be even stronger than we figured.”
For an hour, the Scouts took turns flashing signals with their lights. The distant mining camp was completely blocked from view by trees and rocks. They had little hope that the flashes would be seen, but did think that War and Willie, alarmed by their long absence, might venture toward the river to investigate.
“We’re bushed,” Mr. Livingston declared, after the effort to attract attention had proved futile. “Let’s try to sleep. In the morning, we can find a way to get help or to rescue ourselves.”
Following Phillipe’s example, Ken and Jack sought shelter. The night was bitterly cold. Nevertheless, in their thickly lined sleeping bags, they spent fairly comfortable hours.
When they awakened at dawn, Mr. Livingston had the fire built, and was preparing a hot breakfast.
Stretching their cramped limbs, Jack and Ken went down to the river to wash.
As they bent down to dash the icy water on their faces, the torrent rushed past, foaming and hissing.
“This stream is plenty swift,” Ken remarked. “Too deep to wade across, and a fellow couldn’t hope to swim it, either.”
“Rapids and whirlpools below here,” Jack reminded him. “Rhodes told me that. He probably was telling the truth too.”
“It’s darn funny War and Willie don’t take any interest in what became of us,” Ken went on, scanning the rugged shoreline. “Wouldn’t you think they’d see the smoke from our fire?”
“Probably not up yet,” Jack rejoined with forced cheer. “You know how War is—with no one to pull him out of bed, he’d sleep until noon.”
“Even so, he and Willie must have realized that something went wrong with our plans. Common sense would tell ’em we’re in trouble.”
“Maybe not, Ken. You remember, Mr. Livingston told them we might be gone over night.”
“What bothers me, is how are they going to help us even after they discover our situation? One can’t build a bridge in five minutes.”
“We’ll have to risk a raft probably.”
“And maybe be swept down into the whirlpool. No thanks!”
The two Explorers rejoined Mr. Livingston and Phillipe, who were dishing up breakfast. The meal revived everyone’s spirits.
“What’s the plan?” Jack questioned the Scout leader.
“We’ll send up some smoke signals,” Mr. Livingston advised. “That should draw attention to our plight.”
The morning was clear and windless. Knowing that a column of smoke would rise high, the Scouts were hopeful that despite the rim of mountain peaks, it would be visible at the mining camp.
“War and Willie will soon know we’re in trouble,” Ken asserted, starting to gather an armful of dry twigs.
Jack already was accumulating a pile of green leaves and had dampened a blanket at the stream.
With everything in readiness, the group built up their fire and when it was burning briskly, threw on the leaves. A heavy column of smoke arose.
After a moment, Jack and Ken interrupted the smoke by means of the blanket. Over and over they flashed a distress signal.
“We should be getting a reply soon now,” Jack asserted, anxiously scanning the sky in the direction of the mining camp.
For fifteen minutes, the Scouts kept up the signals. Then, as the smoke column faded away, they continued to watch for a response. None came.
“Our signals must have been seen at the camp,” Mr. Livingston declared. “I can’t understand it. What’s happened to War and Willie?”
More disturbed than at any time since they had found themselves stranded, the Scout leader went down to the stream’s edge. He studied the swift current and then directed attention to the spot where the log bridge had washed out. Only a few broken wires remained. These he carefully examined.
“This bridge didn’t wash out,” he told Jack, who had followed him over the slippery rocks.
“It was weakened deliberately?”
“Looks that way, Jack.” Mr. Livingston showed him where the wires had been snipped with a cutter.
“Rhodes?”
“I’d guess so. He may be on his feet by this time, or he could have ordered his men to let the bridge go.”
“Willie and War wouldn’t have stood for that.”
“Not if they could have prevented it. But they haven’t answered our smoke signals. I’m afraid they may be in trouble too.”
“It might suit Rhodes very well to have us stranded on this side of the river.”
“We know he didn’t swallow our story about looking for Appleby Corning,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “He must have suspected we were searching for the old mine. Now he intends to keep us stranded until he and his wife can get away.”
“We’re stranded, all right,” Jack muttered, staring at the boiling waters. “No big trees close by, even if we could fell one and cross on its trunk.”
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Mr. Livingston said. “Willie and War may need us as much as we need them. We’ve got to get back to camp!”
“A raft?”
“It’s our best bet, I think. We’re all good swimmers, with exception of Phillipe. The current is swift, but I think we can make it.”
The Scouts set to work, pegging out a rounded shape, somewhat smaller than a waterproof tarp included in their equipment. This accomplished, they used dry twigs and small pieces of wood to fill in between the pegs, and lashed it all firmly together with stout twine.
Next, they built a floor of webbed sticks and then removed the pegs. Finally the bundle was slid onto the waterproof tarp which was lashed securely in place around the circle. As the last step, they attached a long rope.
“Not a bad little raft,” Jack declared, surveying the finished job. “She should carry one of us at a time without trouble.”
Mr. Livingston offered to go first, but the others would not have it so. Jack insisted that he was the strongest swimmer, and after some argument, the Scout leader reluctantly agreed that he might make the initial trip. Phillipe, meanwhile, had hacked out a crude paddle.
With Ken and Mr. Livingston holding an end of the rope, Jack settled himself firmly on the circular tarp raft, and shoved off.
The fast current caught the craft, whirling it. For a minute, Jack was afraid he was going under. Icy water splashed over his legs. The awkward craft twisted and turned in the grasp of the racing stream.
Paddling desperately, he regained control. Without disaster, he reached the opposite shore, though some distance down stream. Ken, Phillipe and Mr. Livingston promptly pulled the raft back to their side of the shore. The Scout leader next made the trip across, followed by Ken.
Phillipe, desperately afraid of the racing water, had to be coaxed before he too attempted the stream.
All went well until the miner was close to shore. Then unexpectedly, the make-shift paddle snapped, leaving him with a useless stub of wood.
A gasp of horror escaped his lips as the current viciously seized the little craft.
“Throw the rope!” shouted Jack, running along the jagged rocks at the stream’s edge.
Paralyzed with fear, Phillipe sat frozen. He fancied he could hear the roar of rapids below and was certain he would be swept to his doom.
“Throw the rope!” Jack yelled again. “Quick!”
Recovering from paralysis, Phillipe suddenly hurled the free end toward shore. His throw was powerful. To the relief of the Scouts, the rope fell on the rocks, and they were able to seize it. Fighting the current, they slowly pulled the raft to safety.
Dripping wet and shivering from terror, Phillipe stumbled out onto shore.
“Gracias Senors,” he mumbled, collapsing in a shivering heap. “You save my life!”
“We may have saved you a wild ride down the canyon,” Jack conceded as he salvaged the water-soaked tarp. “This rope is badly frayed. A few more hard jerks against the sharp rocks and it would have been cut in half.”
After wringing out their damp clothes, the Scouts started for the mining camp. Passing the locked, deserted office, they went on to the tent area.
“No fire,” Ken observed from a distance. “No one around, either.”
Slightly in advance of the others, he went quickly to the tent occupied by Willie and War. Everything was in order. But no one was there.
Meanwhile, Jack and Mr. Livingston had been looking around outside. The fire, they noted in alarm, had been dead many hours.
“Where are they?” Jack demanded. “What’s happened to War and Willie?”
“Rhodes must know!” Mr. Livingston asserted, his voice grim. “Come on fellows! We’re going to have a show-down with him right now!”
The Scouts found the mining engineer at the cottage, breakfasting with his wife. Though somewhat pale, Rhodes looked much better, and was able to be about. His right arm remained in a splint, but he managed his coffee cup fairly well with his left one.
As the three came to the screen door, the engineer’s first look of shocked surprise revealed very plainly that he had not expected their return so soon.
Quickly recovering, however, he invited them in. “Have some coffee?” he offered with more cordiality than usual.
“No, thanks,” Mr. Livingston spoke shortly. “We’re here to learn what became of War and Willie.”
“Don’t ask me,” the engineer shrugged. “I haven’t seen them since they left camp last night.”
“They didn’t start for Bogota?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“It’s not like them to start off anywhere without leaving word. Which way did they go?”
“Down the valley.”
“Then they couldn’t have gone off in search of us,” Ken replied. The remark slipped out before he considered how it would be taken.
Rhodes regarded him steadily as he reached for another muffin.
“So you didn’t go off in quest of your friend, Corning after all?” the engineer inquired in a soft, faintly amused tone.
“You know very well where we went!” Jack accused, losing his temper. “You thought you’d arrange things too so we wouldn’t get back until it suited your convenience!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, young man. Suppose you explain.”
“Gladly. You weakened the log bridge so it washed out, leaving us stranded on the other side of the river!”
“And what were you doing over there?” the engineer questioned insolently. “Searching for your friend Corning, I suppose?”
Mr. Livingston had seated himself at the breakfast table, opposite Rhodes and his wife.
“We’re not trying to hide anything,” he informed the engineer quietly. “Frankly, we were trying to find the old Spanish emerald mine that Corning came upon some months ago.”
Rhodes laughed unpleasantly. “I suspected as much,” he said. “Every greenhorn that comes to Colombia falls for those romantic tales about lost mines. Corning was as big a sucker as anyone. But he never found the mine.”
“You’re sure?” Mr. Livingston questioned.
“Of course, I am. He fell heir to an old map when he took over here. But it was worthless. If the Spaniards ever mined in this area, the emeralds are pretty well gone, except in this pit we’re working now. Any day it will play out. Then the mine is finished and should be closed.”
“What do you say to this?” Carelessly, Mr. Livingston dropped a large emerald on the table.
Both Rhodes and his wife gasped as they saw the handsome green stone. In the morning sunlight, it burned with a rich fire and appeared flawless.
Carefully, the engineer examined the gem. For a long moment, he did not speak.
“Well?” the Scout leader prompted.
“So you found the old mine after all?” Rhodes returned, his eyes glittering. “Or shall we say you were guided there? You never could have come upon it by your own efforts.”
“At any rate, we have discovered the mine—apparently, a rich one. The Last Chance should take on new life now.”
“That remains to be seen. One emerald doesn’t make a mine, you know. I’ll send this sample to Bogota to be assayed. Meanwhile, I’ll put the men over there, opening up a new pit.”
Ken and Jack were rather dismayed at Rhodes’ proposal that he keep the emerald. To their surprise, Mr. Livingston appeared to fall in with the suggestion.
“How soon can the emerald be taken to the Bogota office?” he inquired.
“My wife had planned to return there today or tomorrow. She can take the gem.”
“You’re not afraid to have her travel alone with a valuable stone? She might meet Carlos.”
“I have no fear of him,” Mrs. Rhodes spoke up quickly. “Anyway, I have a means of carrying the gem—”
“You’ll start early tomorrow,” her husband interrupted, deliberately cutting her off.
“I’ll have one of my boys go along,” Mr. Livingston said, off hand. “Corning’s disappearance must be reported to the authorities.”
“My wife can take care of it.”
“I’d prefer to have a Scout along. Besides, your wife should have someone with her on the trail.”
Rhodes started to protest, then seemed to think better of it. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged.
“About Willie and War,” the Scout leader resumed. “You’ll send out a searching party?”
“No, I can’t!” Rhodes snapped. “We’re running a mine—not a kindergarten. I didn’t ask you and your party to come here! You’ve interfered with operations!”
“We did discover the old mine, don’t forget.”
“Oh, that! You didn’t make such an important discovery. I’ve always known—”
“You’ve known the location for some little time?” Mr. Livingston quietly supplied. “Perhaps that was why you were so eager to get back here again as engineer?”
“No such thing!” Rhodes denied. “Now get out of here, will you? Let me finish my breakfast in peace!”
“Sorry to have disturbed you,” Mr. Livingston returned. “Good morning.”
He and the two Scouts left the cottage. Once they were well beyond hearing, Jack and Ken anxiously questioned their leader as to his plan of procedure.
“Don’t you think it may have been a mistake to let Rhodes have that emerald?” Ken demanded. “It must have high value.”
“Whatever its worth, Ken, the gem belongs to the mining company.”
“Sure, but will Mrs. Rhodes turn it over to agents in Bogota or Cartagena?”
“That’s one thing I want to learn, Ken. I have a hunch Rhodes doesn’t want to reveal to company officials that the old mine has been located. If his wife delivers the emerald, it will be a dead give-away because any expert will know immediately that the gem didn’t come from the Last Chance.”
“And if she fails to turn it in?” Jack suggested.
“That would be enough to arouse company officials.”
“So you’re figuring Rhodes and his wife may be forced to show their hand one way or the other?”
“I have a hunch Rhodes is trying to bleed this mine for his own benefit,” the Scout leader replied. “His decision to open a pit at the new mine before the sample is assayed, convinces me of that. He figures on working the vein fast, and getting out with what he can before the company clamps down on him.”
“And before Corning is found, either dead or alive,” supplied Ken.
“That’s the way I see it,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “Unless Willie or War can be found in the next few hours, you must go to Bogota with Mrs. Rhodes, Jack. See that she turns the emerald over to company officials. Report Corning’s disappearance, and that Willie and War are missing.”
“I’ll send the authorities.”
“That may take some doing, Jack. I’ve been told they maintain a hands-off policy with respect to this mine. There’s one thing you can do. When you reach Bogota, rent a plane and fly back here.”
“Fly? There’s no possible landing place.”
“True. You’re to survey the area, especially Emerald Valley in the locality where we saw those flashing signals. See if you can spot anything remotely resembling a bandit hide-out.”
“From the air that might be done! If I see anything suspicious, I’ll drop a message!”
“I hate to spare you for the trip, Jack,” Mr. Livingston went on anxiously. “But there’s no other way unless we get a trace of Willie and War.”
In an attempt to gather some information about the missing pair, the Scouts talked to several of the miners. They were able to confirm that Willie and War had left camp the previous night, starting down trail with only light equipment.
“Something important must have come up,” Ken said. “But it’s mighty queer they left no word.”
With Mr. Livingston, the Scouts searched the camp thoroughly without finding even a clue as to the strange disappearance. Nor could the missing boys be sighted through field glasses. Ken was in favor of seeking them afoot, but the trail had not been marked. If Willie and War had left the main path to wander in the bush, they might be hopelessly lost.
“I’m depending upon their good common sense,” Mr. Livingston asserted. “They know the dangers. If we wait a few hours, I think they may come dragging in under their own steam.”
As the morning wore on, the Scouts fretted at delay, yet acknowledged that hasty action would accomplish nothing. Rhodes, meanwhile, spurred by their discovery of the old Spanish mine, had put men to work rebuilding the washed out bridge. Watching the engineer direct the laborers, the Scouts lost some of their conviction that he previously had weakened the structure.
“Maybe that bridge did go out by itself,” Jack remarked to Ken.
“Don’t you believe it! He’s putting on a show for our benefit. Anyway, he’s anxious to dig emeralds in a new pit now that he knows we’ve uncovered the vein.”
After watching the bridge building for awhile, the two Scouts rejoined their leader. Mr. Livingston had just returned from down-trail where he unsuccessfully had sought clues with respect to the disappearance of their chums.
“No signs anywhere along the path,” he reported in discouragement. “Apparently, when they left, they were confident they could get back without any trouble.”
Uncertain what to do, the Scouts kept close watch of the trail as the morning wore on. They were discussing the possibility of a mule-back search, when Jack suddenly cried:
“Say, I think they’re coming now!” Excitedly, he pointed down through the dense trees hemming much of the winding trail.
The three watchers glued their eyes on a visible stretch of path some distance below. Before Mr. Livingston could adjust his field glasses, the two missing Scouts were sighted trudging wearily around a bend.
“It’s War and Willie all right!” Jack shouted in relief. “Safe and sound too! Who do they think they are, anyhow, scaring the living daylights out of us? I’ll give ’em a piece of my mind!”
Mr. Livingston smiled, but shook his head. “Don’t be too hasty,” he advised as the three started down the trail to meet the truants. “Unless I’m mistaken, War and Willie probably had a good reason for taking off from camp. Let’s give ’em a chance to explain.”
Spent from the long, hard climb up the steep trail, War and Willie nevertheless greeted the other Scouts with good humor.
“Where you fellows been?” Ken demanded as the party retired to the shelter of the tents. “We thought you were lost on the mountain.”
“You don’t think we’d be that dumb?” War scoffed, flinging himself down near the fire which Jack had rekindled.
“As a matter of truth, we were lost for a little while,” Willie admitted with a laugh. “We went exploring.”
“That was a very risky thing to do in this country,” Mr. Livingston chided. “You shouldn’t have left camp.”
“Sure, we know that now,” War agreed. “But we had to find out the hard way.”
“What happened after we left?” Ken questioned impatiently. “You started off in search of us—or were you hoping to find Mr. Corning?”
“It was like this,” War said, stirring the fire with a stick. “Last night, shortly after dusk, we saw those signals again.”
“The light flashes?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” War nodded, “only the signals didn’t come from this camp. They were being flashed from half way down to the valley floor.”
“It didn’t look more than a mile or so away,” Willie added.
“Then what?” prompted Mr. Livingston.
“Well, we watched ’em for a minute or two. Someone down below kept sending three long flashes.”
“Any answer from this camp?” Jack asked.
“None,” Willie told him. “We figured that with Rhodes confined in the cottage, there wouldn’t be any.”
“He didn’t catch the flashes?” Mr. Livingston inquired.
“Apparently, not. At any rate, he didn’t leave the cottage,” Willie replied. “Probably wasn’t feeling up to it.”
“So you decided to investigate?”
“Well, it looked like a perfect opportunity,” Willie confessed sheepishly. “It proved to be a mistake.”
“What happened?” Mr. Livingston questioned.
War took up the story. “Not very much, Hap,” he admitted. “We took careful note of those flashes and started off down the trail. After awhile, the fellow who was signaling, gave up. We had nothing to guide us. We thought we had a good idea where the signals originated, but at night the forest all looks pretty much the same.”
“You got lost?” Jack demanded.
“Not exactly.”
“What d’you mean, not exactly?”
“Well,” War grinned, “we did come upon a path that led off into the forest from the main trail. We decided to follow it.”
“Where did it take you?” Ken interposed. “To the middle of nowhere?”
“Something like that,” War acknowledged. “It just kept on and on, and after awhile, we decided we’d have to turn back.”
“You’d marked you way, I take it?” Mr. Livingston asked.
“Well, in a fashion,” War answered, avoiding the Scout leader’s direct gaze. “We figured we couldn’t go astray following a regular path. But somehow in the semi-darkness, we slipped up and got off the darn thing. Getting back was what took so long.”
“We had to wait until dawn,” Willie confessed. “Once it was daylight, we figured things out, and were able to retrace our way.”
“At least you used your head on that point,” Mr. Livingston said. “Your excursion, I take it, netted no real information.”
“Not a scrap,” War acknowledged ruefully. “We’re almost certain though, that that path we started to follow must lead to either a village or to the bandit hide-out.”
“You’re probably right,” the Scout leader nodded. “It confirms my own opinion that we can do nothing without definite information and assistance from the authorities.”
He then told Willie and War what had happened during their absence from camp.
“Mrs. Rhodes leaves tomorrow for Bogota with the sample emerald to be assayed,” he added. “Willie, if you and War are up to it, I’d like you both to go along.”
“We’ll be okay after a few hours sleep,” Willie replied at once. “What’s the plan?”
Mr. Livingston outlined the proposal he previously had made to Jack. The two Scouts were to accompany Mrs. Rhodes, and without arousing her suspicion, make certain that she delivered the emerald to company officials. Once the mission was accomplished, they were to charter a plane and fly back over the area in an attempt to locate the bandit hide-out.
“With a plane, you should be able to scout the entire area in a matter of hours,” Mr. Livingston declared. “By mule or afoot it would be a hopeless task.”
“Once we’ve surveyed the area, then what?” War asked.
“You can’t land here. Your job done, you’re to drop a message and return to the nearest landing field. Bogota probably. If your information warrants it, try to get authorities to organize a search party.”
“You believe Mr. Corning still is alive?” Willie asked quickly.
“I do. Until we have proof otherwise, I’ll assume he is being held captive.”
“When do we start?” War asked with a drowsy yawn.
“Soon after dawn tomorrow. Get some sleep now. You’ll need it.”
Willie and War promptly turned in and fell at once into heavy slumber. When they awakened in late afternoon, Jack was preparing a hearty supper over the camp fire.
“What’s new?” Willie asked, ambling over. “I feel like Rip Van Winkle—all out of touch.”
“Nothing very exciting,” Jack reported. “Rhodes finished getting up the bridge. Late this afternoon, the miners started digging at the tunnel across the river. Our orders are to stay in camp.”
“He doesn’t want you to see what’s going on!”
“That’s the size of it,” Jack nodded, squatting by the fire. “He pretended it was all news to him, our finding that old vein. But he sort of let it slip later that he’d uncovered it himself, probably by using Corning’s map.”
“Which he cunningly redrew, to keep others from learning the exact location,” Ken contributed. “Now that we’ve tumbled to his secret, he’s decided to dig emeralds as fast as he can!”
“Has he found many at the new site?”
“He claims not,” Jack said, “but that’s only his story. We know the emeralds are there.”
Mr. Livingston joined the Scouts at the fire. “Rhodes, I suspect, intends to clean up what he can for himself, and pull out,” he remarked. “So far as I know, the company isn’t even aware that he’s seized control here.”
“In that case, we ought to put a little crimp in his plans,” Willie muttered.
“That’s where you and War fit into the picture,” the Scout leader nodded. “When you get to Bogota, talk to company officials. We have no proof of Rhodes’ treachery, so you’ll have to be careful. Use your best judgment, and don’t let Mrs. Rhodes catch on.”
“It’s quite a responsibility,” War said anxiously.
“You’ll do all right,” Mr. Livingston assured him. “Just don’t tip your hand too soon, because Mrs. Rhodes and Ferd Baronni probably are working together.”
“The rest of you intend to stay here and keep watch of Rhodes?”
“Yes, I have a hunch he’ll over-play himself before long,” the Scout leader declared. Taking a roll of bills from his leather fold, he gave them to War. “You’ll need this,” he said. “But use it carefully.”
“I sure hope we don’t run into Carlos on the trail,” War replied, placing the money in a belt at his waist. “That boy has taking ways! I’d hate to be robbed.”
“It’s a risk that must be taken,” Mr. Livingston said. “Mrs. Rhodes will be carrying the emerald—and that might be quite an attraction. Just be cautious.”
“We will,” War promised soberly. “All the same, I’d feel better if the rest of you were going along.”
The Scouts ate the tasty supper Jack had prepared. After the camp work had been done, they wandered down to the river to inspect the new bridge. On the way back, as a gesture of courtesy, they stopped briefly at the cottage to discuss the next morning’s departure with Rhodes.
“My wife will be ready by seven o’clock,” the engineer curtly informed them. “You’ll all be leaving, I assume?”
“No, only War and Willie,” Mr. Livingston told him. “The rest of us are sticking around for a few days.”
Rhodes made no attempt to hide his displeasure. “You can do nothing here,” he said shortly. “I’ve told you, if a ransom demand is made, I’ll refer it to the company.”
“We’ll feel better by staying.”
“Suit yourself,” Rhodes gave in. “It’s useless though.”
Back in the Scout camp once more, the Explorers began to get ready for bed. War and Willie made a last check of their belongings to be certain that everything was in readiness for the early morning departure.
By nine o’clock, everyone had turned in for the night. Jack, however, could not get to sleep. He rolled and tossed, and finally arose and dressed.
Standing with his back to the tent, he studied the sky. The night was cold but clear. Stars winked overhead and a sliver of moon was rising above the jagged mountain peaks.
Tossing wood on the fire, he ambled down the path. The miner’s huts were dark. In fact, the only glow of light came from the engineer’s office.
Turning in that direction, Jack approached the building from the rear. A shade had been pulled down, blocking the office window, but it gaped a full inch at the bottom.
Jack glimpsed Rhodes and his wife inside the inner office. Rhodes had opened the heavy door of the big safe. As the Scout watched, he removed a cardboard box.
No word was exchanged by the engineer and his wife. Rhodes rolled the contents of the box out on the table—a collection of emeralds so large that it snatched Jack’s breath.
“There’s enough wealth here to give us a new start in the States,” he heard the engineer say. “I hadn’t intended to open the new vein until I was certain Corning was safely out of the way. But with those Scouts poking their noses in, I couldn’t afford to risk delay. I’m depending upon you to get these gems safely out, my dear. I’ll follow within a few days.”
“Those Scouts may suspect—”
“They can’t prove anything without Corning, and they’ll never find him.”
“How about the two that are accompanying me?” Mrs. Rhodes asked anxiously. “If they learn about these gems—”
“Don’t worry about those lads, my dear. They have no reason to believe that you’re carrying more than the one sample to be assayed. Handle the others in the usual way, and no one will suspect.”
“Carlos?”
“Give him no thought, my dear. He will not trouble you on the trail. I will see to that.”
“I don’t trust him,” Mrs. Rhodes answered. “He will betray you—”
“Will you stop worrying?” her husband cut in impatiently. “Let me handle this end of it. Your job is to get those gems through safely.”
Rhodes replaced the empty cardboard box in the safe. He blew out the light and the couple started to leave together.
Jack, fearful of being seen, quickly moved back behind the rear building wall. His heart pounded with excitement! He had seen and heard enough to convince him that distrust of the engineer was well founded!
Obviously, Rhodes was scheming to defraud the mining company officials. Furthermore, his conversation with his wife indicated that he was in close touch with Carlos, the bandit!
From his hiding place, Jack watched Rhodes and his wife walk to the cottage. Taking leave of Mrs. Rhodes at the doorstep, the engineer went directly to a supply shed nearby.
Presently he emerged with an unlighted lantern.
Jack’s curiosity was aroused. When Rhodes took the trail leading away from the mining camp, he followed at a safe distance.
The engineer did not go far. Leaving the well-defined path, he made his way to a projecting, flat rock which gave a clear view of the valley below.
Jack guessed that the man intended to signal, and he was right.
Rhodes lighted the lantern. Uneasily, the engineer glanced about. No sound had given warning that Jack crouched behind the bushes, yet the man seemed to sense that he was not alone. However, after carefully surveying the area close by, he slowly began to move the lighted lantern back and forth.
After awhile, he set it down on a rock and waited. From his hiding place, Jack could not see below the ridge. He knew, however, from Rhodes’ reaction, that no answering signal had been received.
After perhaps ten minutes, the engineer repeated the lantern signals. Again he failed to obtain answering flashes.
After another long wait, the man tried a third time. The valley below remained dark.
“Stupid fool!” Rhodes muttered, losing patience. “Doesn’t he see my signal? Or has something gone wrong?”
Angrily, the engineer extinguished the lantern and left the high rock. Jack saw him retrace his way to the cottage. A moment later, the light went out, telling him that Rhodes had gone to bed.
Satisfied that he could learn no more by remaining abroad, Jack ambled back to camp. To his surprise, he found Mr. Livingston up and dressed.
“Oh, here you are!” the Scout leader greeted him in relief. “I discovered you were gone, and I was worried. What’s wrong?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jack explained. “Lucky too, I guess, because while I was prowling around, I picked up some useful information.”
He then related to Mr. Livingston the entire conversation he had overheard between Rhodes and his wife.