The Mark On The Door Part 12

In the guttering light of the torch Joe noticed a strange object on the floor. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands.

"Why, it's a bracelet!"

The ornament, made of silver, was slightly tarnished. It was set with colored stones.

Yaqui examined it with interest.

"Is it valuable?" Joe asked.

"The stones are semi-precious," said the guide. "It is worth a little money." He handed back the bracelet with a smile. "A little souvenir to take home with you."

"If we ever get home," grumbled Joe.

The bandit who had led them to the cave had 138 finished sealing up the entrance. Now they could hear him clumping off down the narrow trail. Away in the distance the boys could hear the roar of the river and the sound of voices from around the campfire below. It was strange to think that a few short days had brought such a change in their fortunes.

"Just think," Frank said, "a little more than a week ago we were at home in Bayport.

Now we're in a bandit camp in the mountains of Mexico!"

"That's what we get for trying to be detectives," Joe reminded him. "Don't talk about Bayport. I'm going to sleep."

"Me too," Frank answered. "I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open."

The torch was guttering and filling the cave with smoke, so Yaqui extinguished the light In the darkness there was a rustling of straw and sundry groans and yawns as the prisoners lay down to sleep on the pallets. They were so exhausted that even the worries of their position could not keep them awake. In a very few minutes they had fallen into a deep slumber.

Daylight was filtering into the gloomy cave when Frank opened his eyes next morning.

Between the c.h.i.n.ks of the bricks at the entrance he could see the bright suns.h.i.+ne. As he stirred and raised himself on one elbow, Joe woke up, blinking.

139 "Where am I?" the latter muttered in surprise. Then he remembered. "Gosh, I was dreaming I was back home in Bayport and that Aunt Gertrude was yelling at me from the foot of the stairs and telling me I'd be late for school."

"No school for us today," Frank answered with a grin. He sat up, stretching his arms.

"This isn't much of a bed, but I surely slept well on it."

He glanced toward the other side of the cave. Then his jaw dropped and his mouth opened in astonishment.

"Am I seeing things?" he muttered.

Joe sat up quickly. The pallet on the other side of the cave was empty.

"Why-why- where's Yaqui?" where's Yaqui?" he gasped. he gasped.

Frank leaped to his feet and circled swiftly around their rocky prison. The Indian had vanished. For a moment he thought their guide might be secreting himself and playing some sort of a joke on them, but he soon saw that there was no hiding place in the cave. The entrance was still sealed up with adobe bricks. Yaqui was gone. Frank sat down limply on hia pallet.

"He has deserted us!"

CHAPTER XVII.

PEDRO VINCENZO.

the Hardy boys looked at each other in dismay. Up to this time the presence of Yaqui had encouraged them, for they knew that if ever they were to escape from the bandits they would have to rely largely upon his help. Now they felt that their only friend had proved unreliable, and had left them to their fate.

"I can't believe it," Joe said. "Yaqui isn't that sort of fellow. He wouldn't let us down."

"I don't want to believe it," replied Frank. "But how else can you explain it? He isn't here.

He waited until we were asleep and then cleared out.''

"Perhaps he went to see if he could get help."

"Maybe. But why couldn't he tell us before he left?"

In the back of their minds was the dread suspicion that Yaqui had left them to the mercies of the bandits, and that the native had sought to save his own life at the expense of theirs. They had trusted him so implicitly that no thougnt of treachery had entered their minds, so that now the shock was doubly great.

"We'll have to take care of ourselves," Frank said, as he went toward the mouth of the cave. "Yaqui must have thought our lives were in danger, or he wouldn't have deserted us like that.''

"Even now I can't believe he has let us down. There is some other explanation. I'll bank on it that he went to get help and just didn't want to wake us up. That man is honest."

Frank kicked idly at the bricks across the mouth of the cave.

"I hope we haven't been left here to starve," he said. "I could eat three meals all at once right now."

"What beats me is how Yaqui got out."

"Since he did, we can."

The bricks were jammed solidly in the opening. Although Frank labored frantically at them, he could not budge the heavy barrier. Then he noticed that the top of the entrance came to a point, one large brick having been wedged in at that spot to hold the others in place. Joe suggested that this should be the centre of attack.

"It's the key to the whole blockade," he said. "Get that one loose and the rest will be easy."

The top brick itself was not easy to dislodge, however. It was crammed in so tightly and 142 solidly that there seemed to be no chance of its being worked loose. The boys picked up rocks from the floor of the cave and banged and hanv mered vigorously at the obstacle.

Finally the brick began to yield. Frank and Joe redoubled their efforts.

"It's moving!" cried the latter presently.

Suddenly the adobe square s.h.i.+fted, slipped out of place, and went thumping to the ledge outside. The boys looked through the opening. Far below them lay the encampment and the river that ran through the gorge. A few women were moving about among the huts, but the boys could see no sign of either the bandits or the horses.

"Let's get out of here. There's no one on guard," remarked Frank. "And I'm going to find some food."

Now that the key brick was out the boys had no further difficulty. In a few minutes they had cleared away a s.p.a.ce that enabled them to leave the cave and emerge into the fresh air of the mountainside.

"If we can only find our ponies we may be able to escape," said Joe. "What shall we do? Take a chance on going down toward the camp?"

" I 'm game. If the bandits catch us, they will put us back in our prison again. But if we keep our wits about us, we shan't be caught."

143 They made their -way down the path from the cave mouth, well aware that against the Bide of the cliff they would be plainly visible to anyone who might chance to be looking that way from the camp below. Here and there grew bushes with berries, and the boys were tempted to strip off the fruit and eat it. They kept each other from doing so, however, mindful of their unfamiliarity with native edibles and their experience with the cactus nectar in the desert.

By the time the boys reached the level just above the river bank they were satisfied that they had not been seen. They hid in the shelter of a huge rock and took stock of their surroundings. The village had been built on an enormous even s.p.a.ce between the base of the cliff and a second slope that led steeply to the stream in the gorge. At a little distance a flight of old stone steps ran down toward the water's edge.

The boys were surprised to see that the cave in which they had been imprisoned was not the only opening in the face of the precipice. It was literally pitted with similar entrances, Borne large, others small, yet all opening upon terraced trails that eventually led to the water.

"Any sign of the ponies?" asked Frank.

Joe shook his head.

"There isn't a horse in sight. And where are the bandits? They can't all be asleep."

144 The boys hurried across the open landing to the top of the stairs.

"No use taking the direction of the camp. We'll be seen," said Frank.

Suddenly Joe grabbed his arm.

"Duck!" he gasped.

The brothers crouched down on the steps just as a horse and rider came clattering around the side of the bluff where they had been hiding. The man was one of the bandits, but he was in too much of a hurry to give more than a pa.s.sing glance to the stairway. A moment later he flashed by and rode on.

"We'd better get out of here," muttered Joe. "It's a bit too close to the public highway for comfort."

Frank agreed, so cautiously the boys crept down the steps, which had been carved out of the solid rock and were evidently centuries old -a prehistoric staircase that had survived the wind, the rain, and the footfalls of years.

No one was in sight, when the Hardys reached the river. Before them ran a smooth, wide stream about a hundred yards from bank to bank. On the opposite side rose high walls of forest, a veritable jungle of green trees and creepers interspersed with thousands of gay tropical flowers. It was a beautiful scene, and in any other circ.u.mstances the boys might have appreciated it more.

145 Just now their minds were occupied with the problem of escape. And the more they surveyed the situation the greater the problem became. They heard shouts from beyond the bend, and it was evident they came from some of the bandits.

"We can't escape without the ponies, that's certain," Frank said. "Probably they are tethered back of the camp, and if we go that way, we shall be seen."

"We might follow the river," Joe suggested. "Perhaps there will be camps farther down where we can hire horses."

"Hire them! We haven't any money. And I doubt if any of the natives will lend horses to strangers."

Just then they heard footsteps on the stone stairs above. The boys quickly hid among the rocks by the river bank.

Two natives came down the steps. One of them was carrying a basket, the other a bundle of cacti. As the boys watched, mystified, the man with the cacti went down to the water's edge, picked up a stone, and pounded away the p.r.i.c.kly spines of the plant.

The other, in the meantime, removed the cover from the basket and a cloud of steam rose into the air. Protecting his hands with a cloth, he took out a rock and tossed it into the water where it fell hissing1 beneath the surface.

146 "Yaqui told me about that," whispered Joe. "That native is throwing hot rocks into the river to ward off the water serpent. It's one of the superst.i.tions of these people."

When he had pitched in a few stones, the man with the cacti waded out from sh.o.r.e, dropped the sodden leaves into the water, and began to stamp upon them.

"He's fis.h.i.+ng," Joe explained. "That's a species of cactus that acts like a sleeping powder. He's stamping the juice out of it. Watch."

After some time the brothers saw a fish floating on the surface. Instantly one of the natives seized it and threw it upon the sh.o.r.e a few feet from the boys. Then a trout floated up, stupefied by the liquid from the cactus. It, too, was gathered in. The Hardys, although they did not know it at the moment, were witnessing a method of fis.h.i.+ng that has been used by Mexican cliff dwellers since prehistoric times.

"Not much sport about it," said Frank. "But I suppose if you want food in a hurry it can't be beat."

"Food in a hurry!" groaned Joe. "Say, I have an idea."

In a moment he was moving cautiously toward a bush and in an instant had broken off a long twig. Secreting himself again near Frank, he held the point of his newly contrived 147 rod before him and speared one of the fish. Then slowly he drew it back. before him and speared one of the fish. Then slowly he drew it back.

"Clever, Brother," said Frank. "But I never could eat a raw, poisoned fish."

"It is not poisoned," replied Joe. "Only sleepy. And anyway, its flesh is all right."

After this remark he reached out his "pole" once more and caught another trout. As fast as the natives threw their fish upon the bank, just so fast did their catch disappear. In the meantime Frank was tearing off pieces of the meat, and after managing the first mouthful declared the food was not bad.

"They're coming up now," announced Joe, as the natives prepared to leave the stream.

With bated breaths the Hardys lay flat on the ground behind the rocks as the fishermen approached. In a moment there was a piercing scream from the man in the lead as he discovered there were no fish where he had thrown them. Raising his hands above his head he began to jump around and repeat what was evidently an incantation. This was taken up by the second native when in consternation he learned of the situation.

Presently the two tribesmen looked wildly About them, then dashed up the stone steps.

The Hardy boys could only guess that the superst.i.tious natives figured some angry evtt spirit had s.n.a.t.c.hed away their catch.

148 "Too bad," said Frank with a chuckle, "to fool those poor people, but they have other food. Here, help yourself, Joe."

Barely had the natives disappeared when the boys again heard people talking, so they remained in hiding. One of the voices was familiar. The man was speaking in Spanish, and Frank was sure he had heard the tones before. He looked at his brother in amazement.

The boys peered out from behind the rocks. There, not ten yards away, was Pedro Vin-cenzo!

There was no mistaking the figure of the swarthy Mexican, as he stood in the bright morning sunlight, talking earnestly to a companion who was unmistakably a half-breed. This was the native who had questioned Yaqui about the Hardy boys in the squatter's cabin, the same fellow who had come to Pedro Vin-cenzo 's a.s.sistance and knocked Frank senseless in Senor Marcheta's garden.

Spellbound, the boys watched the man who had led them this long chase into the mountains of Chihuahua. They had found Pedro Vin-cenzo at last, but they were helpless.

They could do nothing but remain in hiding and listen.

It was plain that Pedro was angry about something. Bat he was talking in a language that the Hardy boys did not understand. He 149 was violently berating his companion, who listened meekly. In the course of the tirade there was one word that Frank and Joe did catch repeatedly.

The word was "Hardy." A little later they heard "Senor Hardy."

Frank saw that Vincenzo was smiling1 cruelly. Whatever the man was saying, it appeared to afford him great satisfaction, for he extended his hand, then closed it tightly as if he were squeezing something in his grasp.

It seemed to give great satisfaction to his companion as well, for the man slapped his knee and laughed.

"I'm very worried," Frank whispered. "Dad--"