“All right by me, Joaquim old boy. Where is Ceara—out to lunch?”
The Indian shrugged his shoulders and at a gesture from the sentry they fell into a march. Hal, for some reason, felt not so comfortable about having the fellow tramping at his back with a bayonet in position. But as Joaquim seemed not to mind this military formality, he made the best of it too.
After a five-minute tramp they came suddenly out on a broad plain. Dotted about its outskirts were hundreds of small thatched huts. Men roamed about, shaggy and unkempt in their wrinkled and tattered khaki. Others lounged about on the ground before their huts and stared curiously at the newcomers.
They passed at least a half-dozen sentries before their guard commanded them to stop before a hut, much larger and more sumptuous looking than the rest. Hal decided that this must be the headquarters of the famous Ceara.
At a gesture from the guard, they were surrounded by reinforcements while he stepped inside the hut, manifestly to announce their arrival. Hours seemed to pass while they waited and Hal exchanged several calamitous glances with Joaquim.
“Miss Felice is expecting us back before midnight,” he said to the Indian once. “From the looks of things, we can’t be certain which midnight.”
Hal had reached the stage when he was resting first on one foot and then on the other, and neither one resting at all. The sentry at that juncture came out and once more addressed the Indian who in turn addressed his tall young charge.
“We go in,” he said. “We see Coronel Goncalves, not General Ceara. Ceara he not here.”
“What?” Hal asked.
But it was too late. The sentry and a rear flank fairly carried them in with occasional light proddings of their bayonets. A large, low-ceilinged room loomed up before Hal’s bright blue eyes, as did the many broken-down chairs circled around a rickety table.
Behind the table Goncalves was purring and twisting his little moustache.
He smiled sardonically up to Hal’s vast height and straightening his dapper little self in the chair placed his elbows upon the table.
“Ah, such a pleasure, Señor Hal!” he purred softly. “To whom do I owe it on this my first audience as Coronel of the revolutionary forces?”
Hal sent down his most brilliant smile in return.
“You don’t owe it to me, Goncalves,” he said with an uproarious laugh. “You owe it to Mr. Pemberton. I came to save him and his daughter the fatigue of a journey.”
“I remember you were kind, Señor Hal.”
“Never mind all the apple-sauce, fellow. Joaquim and I are in a hurry. My letter is for General Ceara.”
“Por Deus!” said Goncalves with a mournful face. “You are but too late, Señor Hal. General Ceara has died with the fever.”
Hal looked straight down into the little man’s snapping eyes, and they wavered before his own steady gaze. Goncalves was lying, he knew.
“I don’t believe anything of the kind, Goncalves,” Hal said with startling frankness. “But, nevertheless, I can tell you what we want.Renan!His grandfather and sister are worried sick about him. Now don’t lie about that, fellow—you can’t put anything over on me like lies—I can read them in those soul reflectors of yours. And, man, they don’t add to your charms any, believe me.” He laughed mockingly. “Now do I hear where Renan is or not?”
“You shall see him, Señor.Si.In a moment, eh? Just I want to ask you how is the fine old Señor Marcellus, eh? And the what-you-call stuck up Felice—no? Ah, she hate me. But the Coronel Goncalves does not care, Señor Hal. I get back. Si. While you and the Señor Renan are safe under guard, somePallidasshall steal down upon the Pemberton granddaughter and her grandfather—no? I shall make it so. Si. ThePallidasthey hate the Pemberton for taking their settlement from them. They think the family have evil spirits because the señorita’s father dig a mine, eh? They want ver’ much to rid their tribe of evil spirits, thesePallidas, and to kill the Pembertons they think will bring them luck.”
“You’re an idiot to even say such things,” Hal shouted. “Your mind must be all cut up, isn’t it? Who ever gave you charge of a lot of normal men anyway? An idiot bossing sane men. Well, let me tell you, Goncalves—you lay a finger on that girl or her grandfather and your days are numbered. They’re numbered anyway, as a matter of fact. Unk must be on your trail good and plenty by now ... when you think you’re fooling a Yank like Unk, you’ve got to go some!”
“Ah, Señor Hal. Such talk! But how will you know what the Coronel Goncalves is doing when you are no more, eh? You won’t, Señor!” Suddenly the little man’s face twisted in a maniacal smile. “I want that gold at Pembertons’,si? I shall get it and no one shall be alive to know!Cada qual por si e Deus por todos!” he added.
Joaquim touched Hal’s hand affectionately as the guards pushed him past with their bayonets.
“He say ‘each for himself and God for us all,’ Señor. I thought you like to know.”
“Sure, thanks, Joaquim,” Hal muttered breathlessly. “Looks as if we’re going to be separated, huh. Well, over the river and so long, old top!”
“Adios, Señor Hal!Adios!”
Whatever became of Joaquim, Hal never knew. Suffice to say, he never again saw the kind-hearted and faithful Indian.
The guards marched Hal to a hut not far from the river trail and with a push thrust him into the gloomy interior. Suddenly he felt a hand reach out and touch his shoulder.
“Keen, as I live!” cried a familiar voice.
Hal looked down, his eyes becoming accustomed to the dimness, and saw the smiling face of Rene Carmichael.
“Renan Carmichael Pemberton!” he laughed and proffering his hand gripped the other’s with a hearty pressure.
“Well, I hear you’ve got the dope all firsthand, eh, Keen?”
“And how!” Hal laughed. “But I don’t know which I like better—Rene or Renan! I’ll change off to vary the monotony, huh? Just the same I’m darn glad to see you—boy, how glad!”
“And you’re well and safe, eh, chappie? Heavens, but I was worried about you. I suppose you thought that I didn’t care what happened to you, eh?”
“Never. I just didn’t know, that’s all.”
Renan pointed to two rickety stools. They sat down.
“Not knowing that it was a put-up job by that skunk Goncalves, I came straight here to get Ceara to help me. That’s where I made my mistake, for Goncalves was here and when he heard me mention your name to the general, all was off. He accused me of being an informer to the Federals and all that sort of thing. Ceara understood that I didn’t know Rodriguez from Adam and he thought it was pretty rotten work for Goncalves to do, but he couldn’t say too much. He was afraid of Goncalves, that’s the long and short of it. That’s why he had to put me in here—hehadto, or that little trouble maker would have gone all over this camp saying theGeneralplayed me for a favorite—which he did.”
“And here you’ve been ever since, huh?”
“Here I’ve been. But tell me about yourself?”
Hal told him briefly, yet missing no important detail, and summed it up with his singular interview with the Coronel Goncalves.
“And here I am, Rene, too. By special permission of Col. Calves Liver out there. You can be certain there are rats in his garret. He talked like a madman.”
“Great Heavens, Keen! You don’t think he really intends to play thePallidasonto my sister and grandfather, do you? Not that!”
“Rene, I wouldn’t tell you only that I think he means to do just that. I tell you the bird isn’t right! He means to make short work of us, too.”
Renan clenched his hands together.
“I’ve got friends in this outfit—all these men trust me and like me. They liked Ceara, too, but, like everyone else, they fear Goncalves like poison. But maybe I can work something, Keen. Don’t get discouraged.”
“I’m not, only Calves Liver told me the glad news that Ceara died of fever.”
“He lied,” Renan muttered darkly. “He’s had the poor man shot. He was jealous of everybody. Now that he’s got Ceara out of the way, and myself—he can rule.Maybe.We’ll see, Keen—we’ll see!”
“And what a mess for a couple of Americans to get into, huh? Excuse me though, Rene, I forgot.”
“Don’t, Keen! I rather like being taken for an American. If I had to do it all over again....”
“Yes?”
“Oh, I went into this more because I liked Ceara. It was fascinating and Grandfather talked radically to me. I got to think we were abused, but now I see differently—I have ever since I met you on the field that day. I got to realize that we Civil War refugees are nothing but a lot of soreheads and anything but a sporting lot. Our grandparents and great-grandparents who are responsible for bringing us down to this desolate corner of the world weren’t big enough to stay on in the South and come up smiling like the rest. Oh, how I see it! We’ve been brought up on bitterness and prejudice and our terrible poverty’s made us think even worse things about this land of our adoption. But no more. If I ever get out of here I’m going to the Brazilian Government and get down on my knees for forgiveness. Goncalves has made me see what a pack of fools we are. What does he care about political freedom or a square deal for the jungle plantation owner? Not a darn thing. Goncalves is rooting for Goncalves!”
“Rene, you’re simply great! My uncle would be tickled pink to hear that kind of talk. I do believe you’d be given a full pardon by both governments if you’d only tell who the munitions manufacturers are from whom Ceara got his stuff.”
“I couldn’t tell you from Adam, Keen. That’s the work Goncalves did. He used my name, that’s all. So I got the credit for it, eh? No, what I did was to run up and down the jungle for recruits, that’s all. Now you’ve heard it all.”
“Well, my story is that, if we get out of here, the most sensible thing for you to do is to get that mine working and see that your kid sister lives in a country where she’s going to be healthy. I never saw anybody so sad—honest!”
“I know it—I know it, Hal. And I will! I’ll see that I do! Tonight! We’ll get out of here somehow!”
And somehow they did!
Hal was witness to a miracle that midnight. It was one of those rare occasions when a vast body of men are all inspired with one thought, one motive at one time. And Renan, that friend of all men, achieved it.
It began in the early evening with the sentry guarding their hut. Renan whispered to him what horrors the self-styled Coronel was planning for the Pemberton family that evening and what extreme measures would have to be taken to prevent death and destruction.
Toward mid-evening, after Coronel Goncalves left the camp with a picked guard, word had gone around to every man. By midnight they were all assembled to carry out a common purpose, Hal and Renan in the lead.
A half hour later a line of dark canoes glided silently and swiftly through the water. Overhead, the stars gleamed and from the surrounding jungle strange noises came and went. Now and again the men muttered softly, but on the whole there was a deep silence.
After an interminable time they reached thePallida Morsand Hal heard Renan sigh with relief.
“Not so long now,” he said gravely. “If only....”
“Hope for the best, Rene,” Hal said comfortingly.
But the best was not pleasant, for when they sailed through the dawn and into the settlement, there was naught but charred bits of thatched huts to tell the tale. Overhead, the sky was black with vultures.
Renan sickened at the sight, but Hal kept up and searched every inch of the place. The Indian servants had expired, each with a fancy poisoned arrow in his heart. But of Felice and her grandfather there was not a sign.
“We’re going up to pay thePallidasa visit, Rene,” Hal said darkly. “And unless they cut short their ceremonies we ought to be on time.”
“You may be right about it, Hal,” Renan said anxiously. “I know they’re hours sometimes with those ceremonies for driving out the evil spirits. Perhaps poor Felice and Grandfather....”
“Might be the cause of future happiness,” Hal said, trying to be as cheerful as he could. “Sometimes thingsdohappen for the best, even when they look to be their worst.”
“ThesePallidaIndians are the worst of their kind, Hal,” Renan reminded him. “Their superstitions are limitless.”
“I know. I’ve given quite a lot of thought to this so-calledPhantom of Death River.”
“The jaguar in whom my father’s supposed to have been reincarnated?”
“Yes,” Hal answered thoughtfully. “They were pretty tricky thinking that up. But do you know what, Rene? I think that they made it up to keep people from getting too snoopy about that poor wretch in the hut.”
“The demented native?”
“Native?” Hal returned. “Listen, Rene—I heard that supposed native cry right near me and it didn’t sound any more native than you do. That wretch had the cry of a white man, not a native.”
“Hal!”
“Yes. Believe it or not. They even tried to make me believe those cries were from the jaguar, but I know what I heard. It was a white man’s cry.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?”
“Because I couldn’t quite bring myself to thinking that such a horrible thought could be true. Besides, Felice assured me that it was a native and consequently none of the white man’s concern. But somehow yesterday and today—especially after I talked with Calves Liver this afternoon, I figured it out. It’s been going on for ten years, hasn’t it, Rene?”
“Yes, as far as we know. That’s about the time we got wind of the story.”
“And, Rene, I hope it’s just an hallucination, but your father ... he’s been gone ten years....”
“Great Heavens, Hal! Why ... it couldn’t be ... yet ... it’s just ten years!”
The massacre of thePallidaswill come down in history, for a massacre it was. Renan and Hal leading the rebel volunteers were met that morning with a rain of poisoned arrows issuing from every conceivable bit of foliage on the banks of the settlement. War cries trembled in the air, shrieks of women and children.
Hal was stunned by it for a moment, but an arrow skimming off his tanned arm brought him to action. He leaped out of the canoe with Renan, pulling back the trigger of his gun with every step they took up the bank. Behind them came the rebels, shouting as they ran forward.
It was the work of minutes, but Hal lived a lifetime and he could see by Renan’s haggard face that he did also. And when the smoke cleared away they ran for the desertedmaloka, deserted, save for Felice and her grandfather, who had been tied to the pillars, preparatory to making the supreme sacrifice for their companionship with the evil spirits.
The white men had come none too soon, she told them when she had regained her composure. And in a few words she explained how thePallidashad descended upon her and her grandfather and carried them off to their settlement. Goncalves had been with them, but what became of him she did not know.
Hal led the men on the next inspection, an inspection which he instinctively feared the results of. But Renan urged him on, asking him to go first and see if their worst fears were well-founded.
Unfortunately, they were.
No sound greeted Hal as he walked ahead of the men. Not even a whisper greeted him as he stepped into the gloom of the hut. All was still as the tomb and a tomb it was indeed! For the withered remnants of a white man lay silent in death.
Hal brought out with him a notebook, yellowed with age and soiled. Every page of it was written on, some of the writing rational and legible, and other pages scribbled on in moments of frenzy and despair. Taken as a whole, it depicted a man tortured by constant confinement and lost hope.
“For me, Hal?” Renan asked as Hal handed it to him. He took it, with white face and trembling hands.
“It’s addressed to you, Rene. Good heavens, I’d rather spare you....”
Renan bent his head and read with misty eyes. Hal had glanced over the first few heartbreaking pages when he picked it up in the hut. He could even memorize a few of the lines, so vividly had they stood out before his eyes.
“They captured me that morning,” it read, “and I guess it was because they were superstitious about the lode. Also because it was on their former settlement.... They were getting ready to offer me as a sacrifice to clear out the evil spirits, when I happened to think that they were superstitious about killing a demented man.... I saved myself but condemned myself to eternal death and suffering. They locked me up and here I’ve been except for occasional nights when I managed to get as far as the door and cry for help ... but no one came, except for that red-headed young man. They had bound and gagged me while he was here. That is why he didn’t understand me when I cried ... hope went then ... my son Rene, my girl Felice, my father ... oh, that we had never come to this wretched country.... I’ve feigned madness so long, I’m going mad now.... I’m gone....”
The pathos of that last line dwelt in Hal’s memory. He knew he’d never forget it. And worse, he could never banish from his mind the picture of despair and lost hope which Marcellus Pemberton, Junior, bore even unto death.
Two weeks later, Hal was sitting with his uncle, under the cooling shade of a palm tree. It was early afternoon and most ofManaoswas under cover for the siesta period. A light breeze blew and though it was a warm day they felt not uncomfortable.
Hal had just come in on one of the up-river boats that morning. He had shaved, gotten a hair cut, and blossomed forth with his relative in an immaculate suit of flannels. A pair of sport shoes covered his sturdy feet and for the first time in a month he felt clean and utterly at peace with all the world.
“This has been the first chance we’ve had to talk, Hal, do you realize that?” Denis Keen reminded him.
“I’ve been too busy taking off my jungle coat,” Hal laughed. “But what do you want to know that I didn’t write you?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m interested to know what that poor devil Pemberton died of. You just wrote that he was dead when you found him.”
“And that’s all I can tell you, Unk,” Hal said earnestly. “We couldn’t find a mark or scratch on him anywhere, so I guess a doctor would say it was from natural causes. I’d call it a broken heart.”
“No doubt, poor fellow. It’s the saddest thing I ever heard of. Still, those benightedPallidasdidn’t know any better. You say they were almost wiped out?”
“Sure, we had to. They rained poisoned arrows on us like as if it was snowing. Some of the older warriors and the women and the children escaped into the jungle. They won’t be seen for many a year, believe me. But didn’t those rebel boys work! Gosh, they were aces high, Renan included.”
“I’m glad for their sakes. Your friend Rene’s, too. Today’s paper said they were all to be fully pardoned by the government.”
“And by that same token your case is knocked in the head, huh, Unk?”
“Of course. TheCausejust simply isn’t any more. Thanks to Renan. He’s quite a hero to Brazil, I guess.”
“He’d be an asset to any country, Unk. The U. S. will be proud to have him back. Felice, also.”
“You mean especially Felice, eh?”
“Aw now, Unk, don’t rub it in. Old Marcellus isn’t to be left out either. He’s like a kid going away to the country for the first time.”
Denis Keen puffed leisurely on his cigarette.
“We’ll have quite a full house on the boat then, eh?”
“I’ll say we will.”
“And despite the tragedies, there’ll be a lot living happily ever after.”
“You tell ’em, Unk.”
“The mists have cleared away and even the worst of your experiences will be softened by the time you get home. Time is something to be thankful for, Hal. At least you have found out everything you wanted to find out, eh? All except Goncalves. It is a mystery where he ever disappeared to.”
Hal shook back a lock of hair and smiled.
“Not a mystery to me, Unk. I wouldn’t be the least surprised to find out that Señor Goncalves turns out to be the Phantom of Death River!”
THE END
By HUGH LLOYD
Boys! Meet Hal Keen, that lanky, nonchalant, red-headed youth whose guiding star is the star that points to adventure, excitement and mystery. Follow him in his hunts for clues and criminals. There are plenty of thrills and shivers in these stories to keep you on your toes.
THE SMUGGLER’S SECRET
Hal Keen sets out to get to the bottom of a mystery that threatens the safety of a whole community.
THE MYSTERIOUS ARAB
Mystery, excitement, murder in a scientist’s camp in the jungles of Africa, where hate, revenge, and suspicion lead to tragedy.
THE HERMIT OF GORDON’S CREEK
The disappearance of two airmail pilots leads to a mystery that centers about an abandoned mine and a strange old man.
KIDNAPPED IN THE JUNGLE
A hint of buried treasure in the ruins of an old French mission leads Hal deep into the Central American jungle.
THE COPPERHEAD TRAIL MYSTERY
Baffling and blood-curdling events center about the ranch where Hal Keen and his friends had gone in search of gold.
THE LONESOME SWAMP MYSTERY
The lonely and mysterious swamp gave up its secret only after a series of terrifying events taxed Hal’s courage and ability.
THE CLUE AT SKELETON ROCKS
In this new thriller Hal Keen finds mystery and adventure in and about a lonely lighthouse on Skeleton Rocks, off the Maine coast.
THE DOOM OF STARK HOUSE
Mystery and terror in an old house in the wilderness above Quebec where Hal Keen is the guest of a strange family.
By THOMSON BURTISAuthor ofThe Rex Lee Stories
Zooming into the war scene comes this new hero of the air, Lieutenant Rudford Riley, who leads The Phantom Five, a group of airmen detailed for special duty in the Royal Flying Corps during the early days of the war when every take-off was an impudent challenge to death. The record of their mad exploits over the front makes breathless reading, and their adventures have the ring of truth in them for the author-flyer takes them from his own rich experience as a war-time aviator.
DAREDEVILS OF THE AIR
Recounts Lieutenant Riley’s adventures as leader of The Phantom Five against the enemy in the air.
FOUR ACES
As commanding officer of Special Flight A, Rud Riley and Jerry Lacey, the Manhattan Madman, are thrown into the thickest and hottest of the air fighting.
WING FOR WING
Continues the record of the daredevil young airman’s adventures as one of the leading aces in the war.
FLYING BLACK BIRDS
Stormy Lake leads a squadron of picked daredevils called the Black Birds against the famous German Red Devils led by Von Baer.
By CARL H. CLAUDY
Weird! Mysterious! Incredible! Astounding!
Leap back a million years into the dark prehistoric ages. Speed through the dangers of outer space beyond the stratosphere at a thousand miles a minute. Meet the grotesque machine men of Mars. Break into the bounds of the Fourth Dimension. You will meet in these thrilling, fascinating stories many incredible beings and astounding sights that will stagger your imagination.
THE MYSTERY MEN OF MARS
Seventy million miles from home! Three men—a daring scientist and two adventurous boys—take off from the earth in a steel and aluminum sphere that sails through space at 20 miles a second. On the planet Mars they face destruction at the hands of beings who resemble mechanical bugs more than men!
A THOUSAND YEARS A MINUTE
In the world of a million years ago—whence they have been propelled by an old professor’s invention—Alan and Ted find themselves pitted against the dinosaurs, mammoths and savage ape men of a lost world.
THE LAND OF NO SHADOW
Through a violet coil frame in Professor Arronson’s laboratory Ted and Alan leap into the gray and terrifying land of the Fourth Dimension. There they are shadowed by the ghostly forms of menacing, bodiless shapes!
By HUGH LLOYDAuthor of theHal Keen Mystery Stories
Skippy is a young “detective” who keeps his head when trouble starts. He learns the trickery of crooked men on his father’s river barge. His experience stands him in good stead when he becomes an office boy in a detective agency and proves an invaluable aide to Conne, the great detective.... Fearless, fast thinking Skippy is a hero well worth knowing!
AMONG THE RIVER PIRATES
Skippy and his best pal—his father—struggle desperately to escape the evil net of the river pirates who ply their illicit traffic on the river that is the only home Skippy has ever known.
PRISONERS IN DEVIL’S BOG
Working in a detective agency, Skippy is sent on his first big “case”. The story of how he brings a criminal to justice, escapes from a house of horrors and wins the praise of the great Conne, makes breathless reading.
HELD FOR RANSOM
Kidnapped, and in the hands of a ruthless gang of crooks, Skippy and the son of a millionaire almost give up hope. A thrilling story with tense drama in every chapter.
By JAMES CODY FERRIS
Each Volume Complete in Itself.
Thrilling tales of the great west, told primarily for boys but which will be read by all who love mystery, rapid action, and adventures in the great open spaces.
The Manly boys, Roy and Teddy, are the sons of an old ranchman, the owner of many thousands of heads of cattle. The lads know how to ride, how to shoot, and how to take care of themselves under any and all circumstances.
The cowboys of the X Bar X Ranch are real cowboys, on the job when required, but full of fun and daring—a bunch any reader will be delighted to know.
By FRANKLIN W. DIXON
Illustrated. Each Volume Complete in Itself.
No subject has so thoroughly caught the imagination of young America as aviation. This series has been inspired by recent daring feats of the air, and is dedicated to Lindbergh, Byrd, Chamberlin and other heroes of the skies.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
Endpaper