“That confirms what we have suspected,” the Scout leader nodded. “Rhodes must know what became of Corning! That raid Carlos pulled off probably was a phony!”
“Then you think Rhodes arranged it? He hired Carlos to get rid of your friend?”
“If he didn’t, Jack, at least he’s making no honest effort to ransom Corning.”
“Corning may not be alive.”
“I refuse to take any view except that he is being held for ransom, Jack. Carlos is a cunning fellow. Even if he did team up with Rhodes, it wouldn’t be to his advantage to do away with Corning.”
“That’s so,” Jack agreed. “Mrs. Rhodes hinted as much when she told her husband she was afraid of treachery. Carlos may try to play both sides! But why doesn’t he show his hand?”
“That’s why we’re staying here and I’m sending War and Willie with Mrs. Rhodes. Sooner or later, Carlos will make a demand, I believe. I don’t trust Rhodes. So I want to be here when it comes.”
“What about the gems Mrs. Rhodes will be carrying? Shall we let her get away with it?”
“Theoretically, as the wife of Rhodes, she’d be acting as his agent. If she delivers the emeralds to the company office, we have no complaint.”
“Sure, but that’s not the plan,” Jack protested. “She intends to get them through, but for her own and her husband’s use.”
“We’ll tip Willie and War to what’s going on,” Mr. Livingston decided. “They can keep an eye on Mrs. Rhodes, and turn her in, if she doesn’t deliver the gems. Now get some sleep, Jack. Tomorrow may be a hard day.”
Shortly after dawn the next morning, Willie and War set off with Mrs. Rhodes on the difficult trip back to Bogota.
Aloof as always, the engineer’s wife coldly ignored her Scout escorts. She carried a minimum of personal luggage, but had provided herself with a more than generous supply of food, including a basket of bananas.
“Why does she take bananas?” Willie demanded in an undertone to Jack, just prior to the start down the lonely mountain trail.
“You got me!” Jack replied with a shrug. “Seems to me that back at Santa Marta, she said she disliked them.”
“That’s right! But she’s got some reason for carrying ’em. Mrs. Rhodes never does anything without a reason. Say, I got a hunch—”
His “hunch” remained unrevealed, for the caravan had started to move away. Mr. Livingston addressed a quiet word of warning to Willie as they shook hands in farewell.
“Don’t underrate Mrs. Rhodes,” he told the Scout. “And keep an alert watch for Carlos. I doubt he’ll make any trouble, but he might try to hold up your party.”
“I’ll sure be glad to get to Bogota,” Willie sighed. “I got an uneasy feeling about this trip.”
After the Scouts and Mrs. Rhodes had departed, the camp resumed its usual routine of work. Mr. Rhodes, in a driving mood, assigned miners across the river to the newly opened pit. However, he would not permit Jack, Ken, Phillipe or Mr. Livingston to visit the area.
“He’s sore because we discovered the old vein,” Ken asserted.
“There’s more to it than that,” Jack insisted. “He’s accumulating emeralds fast, and he doesn’t want us to know the extent of his haul.”
Two days elapsed. The weather was unpleasantly cold and the Explorers found it difficult to keep comfortably warm in their tents.
Rhodes, though he now lived alone in the cottage, did not invite Mr. Livingston, Ken and Jack to move in with him. They were too proud to make the request.
The mining engineer worked hard. He was up before dawn and at the new emerald vein soon after breakfast. There he remained for the greater part of the day. Upon his return each night, he locked the diggings in the big office safe.
During the engineer’s absence from camp, Jack and Ken made leisurely inspections of the office and even the cottage. Rhodes however, had anticipated the investigation and if any evidence existed, carefully had destroyed it.
“We can’t hold out here much longer,” Mr. Livingston remarked on the afternoon of the third day. “Our supplies are running low. Rhodes might let us have what we need from the company stores, but I doubt it.”
“I’d rather starve than go begging to him!” Ken asserted. “Wonder what’s happened to Willie and War?”
“It’s a long, hard trip to Bogota,” Mr. Livingston reminded him.
“Sure, I know,” Ken nodded. “They’ll do the best they can. But it’s hard waiting—especially with nothing to do.”
The day wore on with the Scouts becoming increasingly restless. They yearned for action. Anything, it seemed to Ken and Jack, would be better than to remain inactive, merely waiting.
“If we just had some idea where to search for Corning,” Jack fretted. “As it is—”
Hearing heavy footsteps, he did not finish what he had intended to say. Rhodes strode into camp. He had fully recovered now from his accident, save that his arm remained in a sling.
The engineer directed himself to Mr. Livingston, who was occupied writing in a daily journal which he kept. Expectantly, the Scouts gathered close, wondering what had brought Rhodes. He did not waste words in informing them.
“I’ve just received a message from the company,” the engineer asserted. “My wife reached Bogota and had the sample assayed.”
“You’ve heard so soon?” Mr. Livingston asked in astonishment. “We saw no one arrive here at the camp.”
“The messenger came and departed a few minutes ago. My orders are to close the mine.”
“To close it!” Mr. Livingston echoed incredulously. “In view of the new discovery?”
“The pit is not worth the expense involved. Your sample assayed as practically worthless.”
“It can’t be! That emerald looked flawless!”
“Emeralds are deceptive. I admit I was deceived myself as to its value. But my orders are definite. The vein must be sealed, and the mine closed no later than tomorrow.”
“What will you do?” Mr. Livingston asked slowly.
“Naturally, I’ll have to obey orders. I’ll dismiss the miners tonight and join my wife in Bogota. You’ll have to leave in the morning. I advise an early start.”
The Scout leader made no reply.
“You understand?” Rhodes said sharply. “This is not a bluff. The mine will be shut down tomorrow.”
“We understand,” Mr. Livingston replied.
After Rhodes had gone, he and the two Scouts discussed the predicament in which they now found themselves. They were reluctant to leave the mine with Corning missing, and word expected momentarily from Willie and War.
“Maybe Rhodes is just pulling another trick to get us out of here,” Ken suggested. “Couldn’t we defy him and stick?”
“Our supplies are nearly gone,” Mr. Livingston reminded him. “Once the mine closes, the camp likely will be looted by hill bandits or the dismissed miners.”
“Carlos might show up here,” Jack suggested. “If so, we might make a deal with him, or pry out of him what became of Mr. Corning.”
“I’d like to stay,” Mr. Livingston answered, “but it seems too risky.”
“It’s sure funny that Rhodes would get word back so fast from Bogota,” Ken muttered. “We haven’t heard anything, and our boys were to have chartered a plane.”
“I think Rhodes is lying,” Jack stated flatly. “Oh, he may close the mine as he threatens, but I can’t believe that emerald we sent to Bogota was worthless.”
“Maybe he’s just scared and intends to pull out,” Ken speculated. “That strikes me as more likely.”
The discussion continued for some little time. It ended by Mr. Livingston advising the Scouts to pack up their belongings and equipment.
“Let’s be ready for an early start from here in the morning,” he advised. “We don’t have to go, if we change our minds. But we’ll be set, and Rhodes will assume that we intend to leave.”
Jack began to pack the items which would not be needed that night. The task finished, he set off to fill the canteens with fresh water from a nearby spring.
Passing the office and cottage, he noted that both appeared deserted. Rhodes was not to be seen anywhere in camp.
“He’s probably across the river again,” Jack reflected.
A faint humming sound overhead, caused the Scout to halt abruptly. Shading his eyes from the lowering sun, he scanned the sky.
At first he could see nothing. Then, with a pounding pulse, he observed a moving speck against the blue. An airplane!
Jack glued his eyes upon the craft, scarcely daring to hope. Could it be Willie and War obeying Mr. Livingston’s instructions to survey the forest area? The plane was a long distance away, flying straight north over the sea of trees.
Jack dropped the canteens and raced back to find Mr. Livingston and Ken. The pair joined him on the path, having themselves heard the hum of the distant motor.
“It must be Willie and War!” the Scout leader asserted jubilantly. “I knew I could depend on them! But why don’t they fly over the camp?”
For twenty minutes the watchers caught tantalizing glimpses of the plane. At times it passed beyond their line of vision, being hidden by the mountain ridges or the clouds.
Then, as the trio became more impatient, Jack noted that the craft had turned toward Emerald Valley once more. This time, the plane came steadily on, flying directly in a line with the mining camp.
Drawing close, it dropped lower and began to circle.
“It’s Willie and War all right!” Ken chortled. “They’ll probably drop a message because they can’t hope to land. I hope they’ve picked up some information that’s worth while!”
The plane circled three times. Mr. Livingston and the Scouts signaled their readiness to receive a message.
At length the cylinder was dropped. It flashed down, but was caught in a strong gust of wind, and deflected from its target. Jack saw it fall into a clump of bushes near the river.
Even as he and Ken started off to retrieve the cylinder, Rhodes came hurriedly across the bridge. From the grim expression of his face and his manner of walking, the Scouts instantly knew that he had seen the cylinder dropped from the plane.
“Quick!” Mr. Livingston urged the two Explorers. “Don’t let him see that message. If he gets it, all our plans will be ruined!”
Scrambling over rocks and through a tangle of vines and bush, the two Scouts sought to obtain the cylinder before the mining engineer could do so.
At the risk of a bad fall, Jack half slid down a steep slope. The cylinder had tumbled into a crevice but he retrieved it before Rhodes could get there.
There was no opportunity to examine the message. In a matter of moments, Rhodes had joined him, moving cautiously because of his useless arm.
“Let me have that cylinder!” the engineer ordered.
Jack shook his head. Turning his back, he started to climb the rocks to rejoin Ken on a ledge above.
“Your friends dropped a message!” Rhodes accused. “You’re working with them to make it hard for me here! What’s your game?”
Jack still made no answer. He climbed steadily, handing the cylinder up to Ken who passed it on to Mr. Livingston.
Impeded by his injured arm, Rhodes had to climb very slowly. While Ken and Mr. Livingston went to their camp with the retrieved cylinder, he waited to give the engineer a helping hand up the steepest part of the slope. Rhodes did not thank him.
Instead, the engineer gazed at the youth with undisguised hatred.
“You and your friends have ruined me here!” he asserted wrathfully. “Except for you, everything would have gone off well. What was the reason for that plane circling this camp?”
Jack’s answer was a smile and a shrug.
“All right, don’t answer!” Rhodes snapped. “But if you think you’ve won this little game, you have another guess coming! I might have helped you find Corning. Now I’ll never do it!”
With that, the engineer strode off to the cottage.
Jack quickly joined Mr. Livingston and Ken at the tent camp. The other two had opened the cylinder and already were scanning the somewhat lengthy message from Ken and Willie.
“Read it aloud,” Jack urged.
“Okay,” Mr. Livingston agreed. “Rhodes isn’t sneaking up here to listen, is he?”
“He went to the cottage in a dreadful fury,” Jack answered. “I’ll keep an eye out for him though.”
Mr. Livingston began to read slowly so that every word of the message could be grasped.
“Emerald sample assayed. Highly favorable—”
“Highly favorable!” Ken broke in excitedly. “Then Rhodes lied again!”
Mr. Livingston nodded and read on: “Mrs. Rhodes tried several tricks, substituting poor grade emeralds for one of top quality. Certain she is teamed up with Ferd Baronni on deal to defraud company. We went over their heads and got the emerald sample to higher officials.”
“Good lads!” Jack chuckled. “I knew we could depend on ’em. What else do they say?”
Mr. Livingston continued to read: “Only visible habitation in mine area a group of huts above Emerald Valley. This may be bandit hide-out. Returning to Bogota.”
A map had been included with the hastily scrawled message. Studying it, Mr. Livingston and the Scouts estimated that the cluster of huts might be about seven miles from the mining camp in the more rugged area.
A portion of the way could be traveled by means of the narrow trail which gave access to the outside world. But to reach the hide-out, if such it was, would require a hard trek over a bisecting path in a densely overgrown area.
“Willie and War have done their part well,” Mr. Livingston asserted. “Now the rest is up to us.”
“Maybe we can get in there,” Jack urged. “It’s a cinch we’ve learned all we can here. No use hanging on even another day.”
“When do we start?” Ken demanded, eager to be off. “Right away?”
“We may as well,” the Scout leader nodded. “We can let Rhodes assume we’re starting for Bogota.”
“How about taking Phillipe along?” Jack suggested.
“Good idea, if you can persuade him,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “With the camp here closing down, he should be willing to come with us, and he’ll be useful. See what you can do, while Ken and I round up the mules.”
Jack found Phillipe in his shack, sharing a meal with his family. However, nothing he could say would induce the miner to become a member of the exploring party. Firmly, the man rejected an offer of money.
“Senor, I am not a coward,” he said, “but I would not face Carlos in his own lair! No, Senor. You are very brave to attempt it.”
Discouraged by his failure to interest Phillipe in the expedition, Jack started back to the tent camp.
In passing the little office, he heard someone stirring around inside, and impulsively opened the door and peered in.
Rhodes was in the inner room, beside the safe. For a moment he did not hear or see the youth. The engineer was deeply engrossed in emptying the vault of valuables, including the little box of newly mined emeralds.
“So the vein has been producing?” Jack remarked to draw the man’s attention.
Rhodes whirled around, thrusting the emeralds into his pocket.
“These samples are worthless,” he muttered, his eyes smoldering.
“Then why bother to take them with you? You are leaving, aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” Rhodes returned with a sneer. “I’m shaking the dust of this mine from my feet forever. Why should I worry what becomes of the place or whether bandits take over as soon as I’ve cleared out? Why should I worry about the company? Did it ever do anything for me?”
“Going to Bogota?”
“I am! I’ll be away from here within the hour, to join my wife. I hope I never see you or the lousy place again!”
“Corning?”
“What about him?”
“You’re not forgetting that he’s still missing? A prisoner probably of the bandit, Carlos?”
“Corning is nothing to me, and I don’t mind telling you so! Didn’t he set himself up here as engineer in my place? He made me look bad to the company—convinced them that I was stealing half the emeralds that were mined.”
“You weren’t, of course.”
“If I could salvage anything for myself, I’d be entitled to it,” Rhodes retorted. “I gave the best years of my life to the company for very little return. I’m fed up! I’m getting out.”
“Before you leave, why not tell us what really became of Corning?” Jack urged earnestly.
Rhodes slammed the safe door shut and turned slowly to face the Scout. For just an instant, Jack was hopeful that the engineer meant to make a full revelation of the facts. Then, the man’s mood changed again.
“I’ve told you exactly what happened,” Rhodes said shortly. “Carlos raided the place and took Corning as hostage. There’s been no ransom demand, so I assume your friend is dead.”
“Mr. Livingston never will be satisfied unless we establish the truth.”
“Let him go ahead if he wants to,” Rhodes shrugged. “Who’s stopping him?”
“You know this country well. You could help us if you would.”
“I’m heading for Bogota to join my wife! Nothing will make me change my mind.”
“At least tell us where Carlos has his hide-out.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. He shifts from place to place. To find Carlos would be very much like chasing a humming bird.”
Jack realized that it was useless to try to obtain the cooperation of the engineer. Giving up, he went back to report to Mr. Livingston and Ken.
“I’m almost certain he’s made a big haul of emeralds and is taking the pile to Bogota for his own use,” he concluded his account. “What’ll we do? Try to stop him?”
“He’s armed,” the Scout leader pointed out. “Besides, we have no absolute proof that he won’t turn the gems over to Baronni when he reaches the home office.”
“We’ll return to Bogota with him?”
“Not with him, Jack. We’ll trail along behind to see if we can find that village Willie and War spotted from the air.”
The Scouts resumed their packing. Long before they had finished, they saw Rhodes ride away from camp, carrying only the necessities of the trail.
After giving the engineer a little start, the Scouts followed. Burdened by camping equipment, they fell farther and farther back. As dusk approached, they began to feel uneasy lest they lose him entirely.
“I don’t like to make camp after dark,” Mr. Livingston said. “On the other hand, if Rhodes can press on, I guess we can too.”
Eager to make time, the Scouts did not halt to cook supper. Instead, they ate cold snacks as they jogged on over the uneven trail. Presently, they gained on Rhodes and in the gathering darkness dimly could make out his figure ahead.
The party approached the bisecting path which Willie and War had marked on their crude map dropped from the plane. Mr. Livingston was consulting it with a shielded flashlight, when Jack, who was leading, suddenly halted his mule.
“Hey, what’s the idea?” Ken demanded.
“Rhodes is at the trail junction!” Jack informed him in a whisper. “Something’s wrong! I think he’s been held up!”
“Held up!” Ken echoed, peering ahead. “Jeepers!”
From the bushes on the trail some distance below them, a dapper little man had emerged. By his body build, the Scouts were sure that it was Carlos, the bandit. Though they could not see plainly, they knew that the man must have the engineer covered.
“We haven’t been detected yet,” Jack warned in a whisper. “Those sharp bends in the trail protected us from view. Let’s see what happens!”
The Scouts could hear heated conversation in Spanish and Rhodes’ violent protests. But they were to no avail. The engineer was forced to dismount and set his mule free. Carlos then ordered him to start afoot ahead of him up the steep bisecting trail.
“Can you beat that!” Jack muttered. “Rhodes a captive! What do we do? Try to rescue him?”
“He’s not worth the trouble,” Ken said in disgust.
Mr. Livingston, however, had another opinion. “Evidently, Rhodes is being taken to the bandit village,” he said thoughtfully. “The one Willie and War spotted. This, I think, is our chance!”
“To trace Corning?” supplied Jack.
Mr. Livingston nodded as he dismounted. “We’ll have to rescue Rhodes, but there’s no great hurry. Let’s follow Carlos and his captive for awhile, and learn where the trail leads.”
Leaving their mules at the trail entrance, the Scouts plodded up the narrow, rocky path in the wake of Rhodes and Carlos. Fearful of losing the pair in the darkness, they kept as close as they dared.
The going was hard. But after more than a half hour’s struggle over tree roots and creepers, the path widened a bit. A short distance farther on, the trees suddenly opened up into a small clearing.
Peering cautiously down, the Scouts made out a cluster of seven thatched huts scattered over a small area. A camp fire burned brightly in the center of the little village.
“This is the bandit hide-out, all right,” Mr. Livingston asserted. “But why has Carlos brought Rhodes here? If robbery were the motive, he could have accomplished it with less trouble.”
“Want me to sneak down there to see what I can learn?” Jack offered.
“It’s risky.”
“I’ll be careful,” Jack promised. “Wait here for me. If I need help, I’ll whistle. Otherwise, you’ll know I’m okay.”
“Learn what you can and report back,” Mr. Livingston advised. “Don’t take any unnecessary chances.”
Jack slipped away in the darkness, avoiding the open clearing. Keeping low, he circled until he came out directly behind a thatched hut. Peering cautiously in, he saw that it was deserted.
A man with long, shaggy black hair came out of one of the buildings, a bush knife swinging from his leather belt. Jack drew back and waited until he had moved out of view. Then, making certain that no one else was about, he crept stealthily on toward the doorway of a larger hut.
Only a dim light burned inside. It gave forth enough illumination however, for Jack to discern the figures of Rhodes and the bandit.
They were seated opposite each other at a crudely made wooden table. The bandit seemed in an ugly mood, for he spoke in a loud voice, his talk an incoherent mixture of Spanish and English.
At first, crouching against the flimsy wall, Jack could not gain the conversation’s drift. But he saw Rhodes lay several bills on the table in front of Carlos.
“This will pay you well for your work, Carlos,” the engineer said. “Believe me, I wasn’t trying to give you the slip. You’d have had your pay for getting rid of Corning.”
With gesture of contempt, Carlos brushed the money aside.
“It is not enough, Senor.”
Unwillingly, Rhodes laid two more bills on the pile.
Carlos sneered at him. “Senor, you are very rich. I am very poor.”
Rhodes shoved back his chair, getting to his feet. “Don’t think you can blackmail me, Carlos!” he said sharply. “I’ve paid you too much now. What you do with Corning is nothing to me—nothing! I’m leaving this country.”
“Oh, no, Senor,” Carlos corrected softly. “Not until you pay. Money is no good. I will take the emeralds.”
“There are none. The mine has played out.”
“You take Carlos to be a stupid fool? Senor, my men have watched. You have mined many gems and you carry them with you. Give them to me now.”
“You’re crazy, Carlos!”
“Senor would like to have me tell what I know? That it was you who planned the little raid? That it was the Senor who ordered Corning kidnapped and put to death? Carlos much too smart to obey orders. Corning more valuable to Carlos alive.”
“You’re a dirty blackmailer!” Rhodes accused. “But you won’t get by with it, because it means nothing to me whether Corning is dead or alive. I’m leaving the country.”
“Senor stay with Carlos until he hand over the emeralds.”
With his uninjured hand, Rhodes drew for a revolver secreted at his waist. Carlos was much quicker. His shot winged the engineer in the fingers.
“Try that again, Senor, and I shoot to kill,” Carlos warned. He spoke in Spanish and Jack did not catch the words that followed.
But he saw the bandit confiscate the weapon, which he recognized as his own. It was the automatic Jack had taken from Carlos, and that later had disappeared from the Scout tent.
Rhodes sagged back into a chair, nursing his wounded hand.
“The gems,” Carlos reminded him.
When Rhodes made no move to hand them over, the bandit tore a small pouch from the leather belt beneath the engineer’s shirt.
“You are welcome to half the emeralds,” Rhodes muttered.
“All, Senor.”
“Why have you brought me here? You are a worse rascal than I knew! Now that you have stripped me clean, release me!”
“No, Senor,” the bandit said in his silken voice.
“What’s your game, Carlos? You have the gems. What more do you want?”
“Your wife, she loves you, eh? She will pay well to see you again. No?”
“Scoundrel!”
“Senor Rhodes will now go to see his old friend, Senor Corning,” the bandit chuckled. “You two have much to talk over. Go, Senor! Walk ahead of me.”
Jack pulled back behind the hut only a moment before the strutting little bandit marched Rhodes out into the open. The engineer was forced to enter another hut at the far end of the village, one guarded by two natives armed with knives and guns.
Making no attempt to approach the prison hut, Jack rejoined his companions and made a terse report.
“Rhodes got what he deserved,” he informed the group. “Apparently, Carlos has tossed him in with Corning. The hut is well guarded.”
“How many in camp?” Mr. Livingston asked.
“I saw four men. There must be others. We’re outnumbered.”
“Then our only hope of getting Corning out of that hole is to start a diversion,” Mr. Livingston said.
“We might fire one of the huts,” Jack suggested.
“Any of them empty?” the Scout leader asked.
“One of ’em appeared to be.”
“It’s a wild scheme,” Mr. Livingston said dubiously. “But it might work. If it shouldn’t, we’d likely wind up prisoners of Carlos.”
“Let’s try it,” Jack urged. “If we can free Corning, we’ll have another helper. Two, if we count Rhodes.”
After discussing the plan in detail, a decision was made that Ken should remain behind. He was instructed that if the rescue scheme miscarried, he was to escape at once and try to seek help at the closest village or Bogota.
Details arranged, Jack and Mr. Livingston slipped quietly down to the hut village.
Unable to get close to the cottage where Rhodes and Corning were imprisoned, the pair spotted a hut some distance away. It was empty, and apparently had not been used in many weeks.
“I wish we had some gasoline,” Jack muttered. “That would send her up in a flash.”
Mr. Livingston instructed Jack to set a series of fires in the straw along the back wall.
Swiftly, they both worked. Once they were assured that the empty building was well afire, they crept through the darkness toward the rear of the guarded prison hut.
For awhile, nothing happened. Then as the roof straw began to blaze, the attention of one of the guards suddenly was attracted. With a wild yell, he alerted his companion.
Leaving the other alone to guard the hut, he rushed toward the flaming building.
“This is our only chance!” Mr. Livingston whispered. “Now!”
He and Jack crept through the darkness. The guard did not hear nor see them, for his eyes were upon the blazing hut some distance away.
Before he was aware of danger, the two were upon him. They tackled hard, and with only a grunt of surprise, he went down.
Mr. Livingston wrested the gun from his hand, while Jack seized the knife. A handkerchief was stuffed into his mouth.
Leaving Mr. Livingston to hold the guard at bay with his own weapon, Jack rushed into the hut. Rhodes was there, his hands now tied behind his back.
Another man, whom the Scout took to be Corning, also had his hands bound. He lay upon a heap of straw, face unshaven.
“You’re Corning?” Jack demanded.
“Yes,” was the quick answer. “Untie me, quick!”
Jack slashed the cords which held the engineer’s hands. He was tempted to ignore Rhodes, but a realization of the fate that awaited the man if he were left behind, softened him. A quick thrust of the knife, and he too was free.
“Quick! Make for the trail!” he directed. “Ken is waiting there.”
Rhodes started off at a run. Corning would not abandon his rescuers. He helped Mr. Livingston tie up the guard. Then with Jack and the Scout leader, he made a fast break for the path.
As they struggled up the incline, a shout arose from the direction of the blazing hut.
“They’ve seen us!” Corning cried. “Go on! I’ll try to hold ’em while you get away.”
Jack seized his arm, pulling him along. “No one stays behind,” he insisted. “We’ll make it!”
Several shots were fired. Ignoring them, and crouching low, the two ran for the trees. In the darkness, the bandits could not see their targets. All shots went wide of the mark.
Breathless from exertion, Corning and Jack reached the trail where Ken nervously waited. Rhodes already was plunging down the path in fast retreat.
“Where’s Hap?” Jack demanded anxiously. “He was with us until a minute ago.”
Just then the Scout leader came crushing through the bushes.
“There’s a swarm of ’em!” he reported tersely. “They’re hot after us!”
The four quickly caught up with Rhodes who was in a near panic. Slipping and sliding, they made no attempt to move quietly as they crashed along the narrow, treacherous trail.
After awhile, Jack wheeled up for a moment to listen. “They’re drawing in close!” he gasped. “Maybe we ought to make a stand—”
“No!” shouted Rhodes. “Keep on! If we can make the trail junction, we can stop those devils!”
“How? With our fists? We have no ammunition.”
Rhodes’ laughter had a wild ring. “Ammunition!” he chortled. “If we can get to the junction, I’ll supply you with enough to blow Carlos to kingdom come! Steal from me, will he? I’ll show that blackguard he’s dealing with McClellan Rhodes!”
At the union of the trails, the Scouts and the two engineers elected to make their stand against the bandits.
In a frenzy of excitement, Rhodes led the others to a rock cavity where he had cached a supply of dynamite. He had hidden it there weeks before, intending to use it in an emergency if his plot to gain possession of the Last Chance mine failed.
“I’ll dynamite the path ahead of Carlos!” Rhodes shouted. “He’ll be trapped behind the rock slide!”
“They’re coming fast,” the other engineer warned. “Get busy!”
The dynamite was planted with its fuse ready to light. But Rhodes deliberately delayed setting it off. Corning spoke sharply to him, saying he would be no party to a massacre.
“That demon has the emeralds,” Rhodes muttered. “He’s a traitor. I want to finish him!”
“Set off the charge,” Corning ordered. “Now!”
Carlos and his men still were a considerable distance away.
Rhodes hesitated, but realized that his will was not to prevail. With a shrug he lighted the fuse and everyone rushed for cover.
The minutes of waiting seemed endless. As the explosion failed to materialize, Rhodes began to fret and worry.
“That dynamite was stored too long,” he muttered. “I was afraid it had lost its juice. I’m going to take a look. The fuse may have gone out.”
Corning hauled him back to cover. Scarcely thirty seconds elapsed when a terrific explosion shook the earth.
Jack, Ken and Mr. Livingston flattened themselves, face downward. Even so, they were showered with dirt and chips of rock.
When the dust had settled, Corning and Rhodes went to investigate. They returned to report jubilantly that tons of rock now blocked the path giving access to Carlos’ hide-out.
“He and his men are trapped back there in the hills,” Corning told the Scouts.
“Is there no way out for them?” Jack asked.
“None, unless they climb down the cliffs. If I know Carlos, he will not attempt it. We’ll send the authorities, who at their leisure can reopen the passage. By that time, I imagine Carlos no longer will be in a belligerent mood.”
“Rhodes?” Jack questioned. “What’s to be done about him? He plotted to put himself back at the mine in your place.”
“I know,” the engineer replied. “Carlos told me the whole sordid story while I was his captive. Rhodes is greedy, and for years, before I took over at Emerald Valley, he milked the mine for his own benefit. Even so, I feel sorry for the fellow.”
“You don’t aim to let him escape?”
“We can’t do that,” Corning answered after a moment’s thought. “No, we’ll take him on to Bogota and let company officials decide what’s to be done. As for myself, I’m willing to forget the foul trick he played on me.”
“What about the lost emeralds? Carlos robbed Rhodes of a small fortune.”
“We may get them back,” Corning said, undisturbed. “With the path blocked, Carlos isn’t going anywhere. If the authorities will back me up, I’ll return here with a posse and force the bandits to give up the gems.”
“What of the mine?”
“It can’t be left many days without someone in charge. I’ll see the party safely to Bogota, and get back to my post.”
So it was decided. That very night, the Scouts pushed on, accompanied by Rhodes, who surprisingly offered no resistance. With the loss of the emeralds, all the spirit and fight seemed to have left him. He and Corning talked together almost as friends.
“I resented it because the company put you in charge,” Rhodes told the other. “I figured you were a greenhorn and I could get rid of you without much trouble. So I hooked up with Carlos, paying him to stage a fake raid and haul you off.”
“That’s where your plan backfired.”
“Yes. Carlos double-crossed me as I might have expected. He kept demanding more money, threatening to release you and tell all.”
“We saw you flashing signals down the mountain,” Ken commented, entering the conversation. “You were communicating with Carlos?”
“That’s right. We had worked out a crude code system. It never was very effective.”
“Carlos took you by surprise today on the trail?”
“Yes, with a little luck, I’d have made it to Bogota with the emeralds.”
“Leaving Mr. Corning to his fate?”
Rhodes flushed, ashamed to have his intentions so openly discussed. He fell into a morose silence, making no further attempt to act friendly.
On the trail, Mr. Corning and Mr. Livingston had ample opportunity to renew their old friendship. The engineer explained that he had urged the Scout leader to come to Emerald Valley in the hope of forestalling the very situation which had developed.
“Carlos has been terrorizing these hills for years,” he informed his friend. “I suspected that Rhodes was stirring things up a bit, but I never had proof. That was one reason I sent for you. I figured you could help me.”
“That vein should establish the Last Chance on a highly productive basis again,” Mr. Corning asserted. “Operations should remain profitable for many years.”
Rhodes talked very little during the tedious journey back to civilization. He admitted however, that he had ordered his workmen to weaken the log bridge so that the Scouts would be stranded across the river.
“I figured you would find the vein,” he confessed. “I wasn’t ready to start mining operations until I had made certain Corning wouldn’t come back to plague me. So I figured I could keep you tied up across the river for a day or so until I could make my plans. It didn’t work.”
“You and your wife teamed with Ferd Baronni to get a cut on all the emeralds mined under your direction?” Jack probed. “That is, you saw to it that a certain percentage of them never went through to company officials?”
Rhodes would make no admission implicating either his wife or the company agent.
However, the Scouts were determined to learn the entire truth. Days later, in Bogota, after the deposed mining engineer had been turned over to company officials, they rejoined Willie and War who assisted in piecing together the full story.
Lounging comfortably in a hotel room, the two Scouts recounted their own unpleasant adventures on the trail.
“Mrs. Rhodes gave us a rough time of it,” War told his friends. “She tried to trick us about the emerald. We knew she turned over a poor imitation of the gem to company officials, but it took Willie to prove it.”