“There’s a narrow ledge to our left!” Frank yelled. “It looks just big enough for us to stand on if we can get close enough to reach it.”
He kicked out hard and the boys started to swing back and forth like a human pendulum. Frank, with only one hand around his brother’s waist, reached out for the ledge with the other.
“Almost!” he called as they arched up toward it.
Finally, after a hard swing, Frank managed to grab hold of the ledge. He and Joe pulled themselves up onto it. Then Joe released one half of the double line and pulled the rope free from the piton inside the tunnel.
“It’s about two hundred feet to the bottom of this waterfall,” Frank remarked. “And another two hundred to the top of the mountain,” he said as he peered at the sheer rock wall stretching above them.
“And it’s too far to the bottom for the amount of rope we have,” Joe observed. “Our best chance is to try making it to the top.”
Joe took one of his four remaining pitons and hammered it into the rock wall above the ledge. Using it as a foothold, he carefully lifted himself up. Then he drove another piton into the wall and repeated the procedure.
Frank began the dangerous climb immediately behind his brother. When Joe had used the last of his pitons, Frank reached down, loosened the lowermost one from the wall, and handed it to him. Each time the cycle was repeated, the boys edged a few feet closer to their goal.
Finally they reached the top and dragged themselves onto a level stretch of ground. “Whew!” Joe gasped. “I was beginning to think this hill was higher than Everest.”
The Hardys rested for a moment to regain their strength. Several minutes had passed when suddenly they were startled to see the shadows of two men fall across the ground from behind.
“Oh, oh!” Frank muttered. “We have company!”
Turning around, the youths saw two Indians standing just a few feet away.
“You come!” one of them demanded. “Pronto! Pronto!” He made a menacing gesture with his rifle.
“Some of Vincenzo’s men must’ve spotted us climbing the wall,” Frank said to his brother.
“And planned this little reception for us,” Joe added. “It looks as if they mean business.”
The Indian repeated his order, then forced the boys to march in front of him. They slowly made their way down a steep, treacherous slope on the opposite side of the mountain. When they reached the bottom, the Indians took the captives back to their leader’s hideout.
The Hardys were prodded into the cave and led directly to the chamber which served as a prisoners’ cell.
“Chet and Tico are in there!” Joe exclaimed as one of the Indians unlocked the door of metal bars.
Frank and his brother were shoved inside and the door slammed behind them. Two Indians posted themselves outside as guards. Despite the boys’ predicament, they were overjoyed by the reunion.
“Sorry I messed up your plans, fellows,” Chet said apologetically. “But I didn’t think a small campfire would raise much smoke.”
“It’s too late to think about it now,” Frank replied.
“What happened to you?” Joe asked Tico. “How were you captured?”
“I had almost made it to Montaraz,” the Mexican youth explained, “when I came upon two men camped in the desert. They took me prisoner. One of them brought me back here after contacting Pavura on a small radio.”
“You ran across a couple of men in Vincenzo’s communication chain,” Frank said. The Hardys then told the others about their own adventure.
“Juan, Marcheta’s son, is being held prisoner here,” Chet announced. “And also six men from the village of Montaraz.”
“And one of them is Señor Santos,” Tico added.
“That’s what we figured,” Joe said. “We saw them being taken from the cave.”
“Did they say anything about what Vincenzo and his workers are up to?” Frank queried.
“They know only that they are made to work with the Indians on a small railroad,” Tico answered.
“Why aren’t you two forced to go along?” Joe asked curiously.
Tico grinned. “I overheard one of the guards say that Vincenzo thinks we are cleverer than the others,” he said. “He does not feel it is worth the extra guards it would take to watch us.”
“I’d say Vincenzo is a good judge of character,” Chet muttered proudly.
Later, the Indian workers began to swarm into the cave. Then Juan Marcheta and the six prisoners from Montaraz were returned to the cell. Tico introduced them to the Hardys.
Juan, a lean, dark-haired boy, told the young detectives how he had been kidnapped by Vincenzo in order to stop his father from cooperating with the authorities.
“Your father is in hiding,” Frank told him. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you where he is, but he’s safe.”
Santos, a tall, pleasant-looking man with a thick mustache, anxiously asked the Hardys if they had any news of his wife.
“We saw her just two days ago,” Joe said. “She’s well.”
“Ah! That is goodl” he replied with a sigh of relief.
“Why did Vincenzo take you prisoner?” Frank asked him.
Santos said he had accidentally stumbled upon the gang leader’s hideout while on a hunting trip. When he returned to Montaraz, he told some of his friends about his discovery.
“Upon leaving the cantina that night,” the Mexican continued, “I was struck on the head and knocked out. I was brought here.” He pointed to the other five men. “My amigos came to look for me and were also captured.”
Joe remarked, “Obviously Vincenzo wanted to keep you from telling anyone about his hideout.”
“And he put the strange symbol on the doors of your houses to terrorize the other villagers,” Frank surmised. “It was meant to discourage them from getting curious.”
An Indian appeared and handed each of the prisoners a plate of dried maize. When they had finished eating, the weary captives fell asleep.
They were awakened the next morning by the sound of the Indian workers as they left the cave. Several guards came and escorted Santos and the other five men from the cell.
The Hardys’ thoughts turned to the possibility of escape. With Tico acting as their interpreter, they made an attempt to cajole their two guards into releasing them.
Joe creased his brow. “We’re not going to get anywhere with those guys,” he said.
At that instant two men entered the cave and approached the boys’ cell. One of them was a tall, angular man with thinning black hair. His close-set eyes and sharp features gave his face an expression of evil. The Hardys recognized him as the Mexican they had encountered in Bayport.
“It’s Cardillo!” Joe declared.
“You mean, Vincenzo!” his brother retorted.
The gangleader’s companion, a short, wiry Mexican, stepped forward. “You are in the presence of Pavura!” he exclaimed. “You do not speak unless he bids you to do so!”
“Don’t give us that Pavura stuff!” Joe snapped. “We know his real name!”
Vincenzo glared at the boys. “You think you are clever,” he snarled. “But what you have learned will not do you any good.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Frank retorted.
“I have no time for idle talk,” Vincenzo growled. He stepped closer to the cell door. “You will tell me the whereabouts of Mr. Hardy and Senor Marchetal”
“They went fishing in Tampico,” Chet interrupted with a laugh.
“You will advise your fat amigo to be quietl” shouted Vincenzo’s companion.
“I order you to answer my questions!” the leader barked impatiently. “Does your father know you are here in Baja?”
“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself!” Frank replied.
“You force me to take stronger measures,” Vincenzo announced. “Perhaps the fiery brand of Pavura will loosen your tongues!”
The gangleader signaled the two guards, who immediately pre
pared a small pit of hot coals. Into it, one of the Indians thrust what appeared to be a branding iron. Minutes later he withdrew it from the pit. On the end of the iron, glowing white hot, was the mysterious symbol.
“Now!” Vincenzo cried. “Which one of you would like to be the first to know the terror of Pavura?”
CHAPTER XVII
A Hot Melee
“You won’t get away with this!” Joe shouted.
“Oh, no?” Vincenzo snarled. “And since you are so quick to speak, I think you should have the honor of being first.”
Joe was led out of the cell and his hands were tied behind his back.
“He’s not blufEng!” Chet cried in a quavering voice.
The gangleader signaled the Indian holding the branding iron, who then walked slowly toward Joe.
“Stop!” Frank demanded angrily.
Suddenly, in a lightning move, Joe darted forward. Head low, he smashed into the midriff of the Indian, who jackknifed onto Joe’s shoulder. Then, snapping to an upright position, he flung the man to the floor.
“Grab the others!” Frank shouted to his companions.
The guards had neglected to relock the cell door. Flinging it open, the boys sprang into action. Frank caught the second guard squarely on the chin and knocked him unconscious, then he quickly untied his brother’s hands.
A wild melee followed. Vincenzo lashed out and sent Tico sprawling to the ground.
“Socorro! Socorro!—Help! Help!” screamed the gangleader as he started to flee from the cave.
Frank gave chase and downed Vincenzo with a flying tackle. They rolled across the ground, locked in a fierce struggle.
Chet, who had selected Vincenzo’s companion as his opponent, had pulled the Mexican’s sombrero down over his eyes. The stocky man ran around the cave frantically trying to pull up the hat.
“I hear men shouting outside! They’re coming to help Vincenzo!” Tico exclaimed.
Several Indians appeared in the cave entrance. Joe grabbed one of the small barrels marked MUESTRA, and hurled it at them. The barrel smashed against the rocky wall above their heads and drenched the men with crude oil.
“Nice going!” Chet yelled.
Joe picked up another barrel and threw it onto the pit of hot coals. It shattered, throwing up a huge orange ball of flame and thick smoke.
“Aheee!” screamed an Indian in terror as he saw the fire.
Frank pulled Vincenzo to his feet and flung him into the path of two Indians about to attack. The men crashed to the ground in a tangled mass of arms and legs.
Meanwhile, Joe threw another barrel into the pit. The fire and smoke became more intense.
“Salga! Salga!—Get out! Get out!” Vincenzo shouted to his men.
Choking from the smoke, the Indians followed their leader out of the cave. Chet’s opponent finally managed to pull his sombrero free and raced out after the others.
The boys threw themselves down and placed their faces close to the ground where there was a shallow layer of clear air. When the fire and smoke subsided, they got to their feet.
“Come out! There is no escape!” they heard Vincenzo shout from outside the cave.
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Chet asked nervously.
“Vincenzo and his men have us cornered,” Frank admitted. He glanced around. “And there’s no way out of this place except by the entrance.”
“Come out at once!” the gangleader screamed. “Or I shall send my men in after youl”
With no alternative but to obey, the boys walked out of the cave. As they emerged, the captives saw that Vincenzo was in a mad rage.
“You’re too troublesome to be kept here! I shall have you all sent to a place from which you will never escape!” he growled. “You’re going to take an undersea voyage!”
The boys were marched off with several guards prodding them along with rifles. Soon they were walking down a steep slope close to the narrow-gauge railroad the Indian workers had built. Frank and Joe noticed that the track now extended well beyond the point where they had stopped the speeding rail car.
“Hm! They’ve finished the project,” Joe commented.
“Yes,” Frank agreed. “We wondered where it went. I guess we’re about to find out.”
“You no talkl” shouted one of the guards.
Finally they came to a cove on the east coast of the Baja Peninsula. The Hardys noticed that the track continued to the water’s edge. Nearby a group of Indian workers was seated on the ground as if waiting for something.
The boys’ captors ordered them to sit down. Two guards were posted to watch them.
It was almost sunset when the Hardys and their friends were startled to see a submarine come to the surface out at sea. It slowly made its way into the cove.
“I can see the symbol on the conning tower,” Joe said in a hushed voice.
“It must be the same sub we spotted in the cove in Sinaloa,” Frank added.
At that instant there came a rumbling sound. The boys looked to see several of the odd-looking rail cars come rolling down the track. Each of them carried a sausage-shaped object measuring about one hundred feet long.
“They must be the rubber-coated nylon containers we found in the other cave!” Joe whispered to his brother.
Frank suddenly sat bolt upright. “Say! Do you remember the scrap of paper we found in Vincenzo’s hideout?”
“Yes, I have it right here.” Joe pulled a fragment of paper from his pocket. They again looked at the printed words which read:The practicability of draco ...
“The word draco must be dracone!” Frank declared.
Joe’s eyes widened. “You’re right! That must be it! I recall your showing me an article about dracones several months ago. They’re rubber-coated nylon containers designed to carry oil. A whole train of them can be towed behind a ship!”
“Except in this case, they’re being towed by a submarine!”
“So that’s what Vincenzo is up to. He must be smuggling oil out of the country,” Joe surmised. “But where is he getting it from?”
Frank thought for a moment. “My guess is that he got his hands on an oil well. He’s keeping it a secret to prevent the Mexican government from taking over control.”
Chet was wide-eyed. “Vincenzo wants it all for himself! So he’s selling oil to whoever will pay his price!”
The boys watched as the Indian workers began attaching triangular-shaped metal plates to the front and rear sections of the containers. The devices looked similar to the diving planes of a submarine.
“Very clever,” Frank whispered. “Those gadgets are used to keep the dracones under water when the sub is submerged.”
The Indians eased each of the containers into the water and linked them together by means of a special cable. The long train looked like a huge floating sea serpent.
The boys were now ordered to walk toward the submarine, which had tied up at the shore of the cove. Then they were forced to get aboard.
“Lock ‘em in the aft cabin!” shouted a bearded crew member.
After climbing down through a hatch, the Hardys and their friends were led along a narrow passageway, then ordered into a small compartment. The door was slammed behind them and locked. A guard was posted outside.
“Where could they be taking us?” Chet asked worriedly.
“We’ll soon learn if we don’t figure out some way to escape!” Joe declared.
“Let’s think fast!” Frank urged.
Suddenly the boys felt a vibration and heard the rumbling sound of the craft’s diesel engines.
“It is too late to do anything now!” Tico cried.
A feeling of panic gripped the four boys as the sub got underway. Where were they going? And what was in store for them when they arrived?
CHAPTER XVIII
Outwitting a Crew
THE BOYS searched frantically for an answer to their dilemma.
“We must escape before the sub gets too far out to sea!” Fra
nk declared.
Just then they heard the muffled voices of two men talking outside the cabin door.
“The boss wants you to stay here on guard,” a man said. “I don’t know why he picked you. You’re always falling asleep.”
“What’s the difference?” the guard snapped. “Those kids are locked in. And even if they got out, where can they go aboard a sub?”
“Keep awake just the same,” the other man warned.
Then silence. The boys waited and listened. Less than an hour had passed when they detected the sound of snoring.
“He’s asleep,” Joe whispered. “Here’s our chance.”
“But the door’s locked,” Chet said in a hushed voice. “We can’t break it down—every crewman on this tub would hear us.”
Frank glanced around. “We won’t have to,” he answered. “Our captors forgot one thing. The door hinges are on our side. All we have to do is force the pins out!”
Frank took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the base of the hinge pin to reduce noise. Then he removed one shoe, and using the heel as a hammer, began to tap away lightly. Joe went to work on the second hinge.
The job was slow and demanded all the patience the Hardys could muster. Finally the pins were loose enough to be pulled free of the hinges.
Cautiously the boys eased the door aside. Outside they saw a grubby-looking man in a sailor’s cap and jacket propped up against a bulkhead. He was sound asleep.
The boys pounced on him at once, and before the surprised guard could utter a sound, he was gagged, then bound, and dragged into the cabin.
“Set the door back in place,” Frank whispered to Chet and Tico, “in case any of the crewmen come along.”
“What’s our next move?” Chet asked.
Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Somehow we must force the crew to turn around and go back to Baja.”
“Maybe we can disable the sub,” Joe suggested.
“Leaping lizards!” Chet exclaimed. “Don’t do anything to sink us!”
The Mark on the Door Page 9
