The Jungle Pyramid

by Franklin W. Dixon

  The man responded in a rapid flow of Spanish. Though the boys had studied the language in high school, they could not follow him because he spoke so fast and with a strange inflection. Joe asked him to repeat slowly what he had just said, but the man stared at him blankly.

  Chet had an idea. “Let’s try sign language,” he suggested. “I’ll take it from here.”

  He touched the man on the shoulder, turned, and pointed into the jungle. He made a long sweep with one arm toward the pyramid.

  “What does that mean?” Joe wondered.

  “I’m asking him where he comes from, and how he got here,” Chet explained.

  “Well, you could have fooled me,” Joe said.

  The man smiled, shrugged, and spoke again.

  “We’re getting nowhere fast,” Frank protested.

  The boys decided to bring the man face to face with Murphy. One of them might give something away. They were discussing the best way to arrange the confrontation when the man suddenly spoke English.

  “Bayport seems to be on the ball!”

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Aztec War God

  THE boys gaped. The voice was unmistakably that of their father!

  “Dad!” Frank cried out. “I don’t believe it!” He scrutinized the coppery face closely. Then he grinned. “I should have known. The color of your eyes doesn’t fit your make-up!”

  Mr. Hardy chuckled. “A bit of make-up and cheek pads can do a lot to change one’s appearance. And I can always squint when necessary.”

  “But, Dad, we thought you were investigating the case in Wakefield,” Joe said. “What’s up?”

  “It’s a long story,” Mr. Hardy said. “And it was John Armstrong’s idea.”

  “You mean he doesn’t trust us?” Frank asked.

  “Well, he thought you could use some reinforcement. Actually, he decided all of a sudden that I was wasting my time in Wakefield. Since he had some business in Mexico City, he asked me to come along. We left the day after you did. When we arrived, John took care of his appointment in the city, while I asked questions around the airport about the mysterious plane.”

  “Same as we did,” Joe said. “And that’s how you found out about Palango?”

  “Palango? What’s that?”

  “An archaeological dig near here,” Frank said. “That’s where we ended up.”

  Mr. Hardy shook his head. “No one mentioned Palango to me. But I was tipped off that Rumble Murphy was smuggling gold, so I hid in his plane all the way to Mérida.”

  “Wow!” Chet looked at the detective in admiration. “Neat sleuthing!”

  “Well, I almost lost him when we arrived,” Mr. Hardy continued. “I had to rent a jeep while his was already waiting. But I caught up with him and followed him here.”

  “Did he stop on the way?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, in the jungle, for about an hour. He got out of his jeep and disappeared into the woods. Then another car came along the trail, nearly ran into a hole, and barely escaped a falling tree. I saw it from a distance.”

  “That car was ours!” Frank cried out.

  Mr. Hardy stared at the boys. “You’d better tell me all that’s happened to you,” he said gravely.

  The boys described their adventures for their father, then Joe asked, “Dad, what did you do when you saw the pyramid?”

  “There wasn’t much I could do,” Mr. Hardy said. “I pitched a tent nearby and kept observing Murphy so I could be sure he didn’t have a gang of people working here with him. Yesterday he left the place and I followed him into the jungle. There were people close by and he shot at something, maybe to scare them off.”

  “He shot at me!” Joe declared. “But he didn’t scare us away!”

  Mr. Hardy nodded. “I was hoping he’d leave for a while so I could search the pyramid, but he went right back.”

  “Did you see the lights last night?” Frank asked.

  “No. I must have dozed off. This morning I decided I’d better do something. So I disguised myself and was on the way to confront Murphy when I met you.”

  “We’ve taken care of Murphy already, Mr. Hardy,” Chet announced and they reported their adventure of the previous night.

  “Murphy admits he’s a smuggler,” Biff said. “We found his loot. Great stuff-gold by the sackful!”

  “Unfortunately it wasn’t the Wakefield gold, or the Scythian figurine, either,” Frank said.

  Mr. Hardy tried to cheer his son. “Even if Murphy and Palango were false leads, you discovered an illegal smuggling operation. The Mexican government will be very grateful to you, and Murphy deserves to be put out of business.”

  Frank nodded. “You’re right. We were just about to take him to Chichén Itzá and hand him over to the police. If necessary, we’ll take him to Mérida.”

  “Good thinking. We can use his jeep and mine. Let’s go get him,” Mr. Hardy said.

  The group walked up the steps of the pyramid to where Biff was guarding Murphy. Biff marveled at Mr. Hardy’s disguise, and the thief glowered at them. “I want to see a lawyer,” he snarled.

  “You’ll see one in town, Murphy,” Mr. Hardy said. “First we’ll take you and your loot out of here.”

  The boys untied Murphy’s ankles and led him to their father’s jeep. He was put in the front seat, while Tony and Biff rode in the back to make sure the smuggler would not try to escape.

  The others had soon located Murphy’s vehicle and Frank climbed behind the wheel with Joe and Chet as passengers. The jeeps took a long detour that Murphy had discovered was the easiest route through the jungle. Arriving in Chichén Itzá, they turned the man and his gold over to the authorities.

  The police deputy was gratified. “We knew a smuggler was operating in this area, but we never could catch him. You have done us a great favor!”

  After Murphy was led away, Frank said. “I don’t see any reason to go back to Palango. What do you think, Dad?”

  “I agree. Let’s drive to Mérida and get a flight from there to Mexico City. Then we can see what Armstrong has in mind.”

  In Merida, Mr. Hardy called John Armstrong at his hotel to tell him when they would arrive. He picked them up at the airport. Looking harried, he mopped his brow with his handkerchief.

  “What’s new, Fenton?” he asked.

  “No news of the mint thief, John. We didn’t find the stolen gold in the jungle,” Mr. Hardy replied, “but the boys nabbed a smuggler.” He told Armstrong about their adventure.

  Armstrong sighed. “While you were away, I checked with the police on Zemog. Nothing positive there either. But I’m sure the answer—”

  “Look!” Joe interrupted and pointed to a small plane with the words “Mexico City” on the fuselage. It was just taking off on the runway.

  Joe memorized the craft’s number, and the excited boys went to check with the control tower. They found out that the plane belonged to Carlos Calderón. According to the pilot’s flight plan, he was bound for Mérida.

  “I think he’s going to Palango,” the official in the tower told them.

  “Results at last!” Joe said jubilantly as they went back to tell their father and Armstrong what they had just heard.

  Armstrong was enthusiastic. “You see? We’ll have to go there right away!”

  They took a flight the following morning. Mr. Hardy would stay in Mexico City to testify against Murphy, who was being transferred for his hearing the next day. Armstrong and the boys flew to Merida, where they rented two jeeps and once more drove to the dig. When they arrived, their archaeological friends greeted them with loud shouts.

  “Thank goodness you’re all right!” Rose cried out. “We thought you were lost in the jungle! Frank Pendleton went out looking for you but had no luck!”

  “We ran into an unexpected adventure,” Frank said. After introducing John Armstrong, he told about Rumble Murphy and the pyramid.

  Steve Weiss was incredulous. “This is absolutely fantastic!” he said.

>   “Well, we didn’t find what we were after,” Frank said. “But the plane we were looking for has supposedly flown to Mérida and its owner, Carlos Calderón, was planning to come here.”

  “Carlos!” Steve exclaimed. “He’s a good friend of ours, an archaeology student who visits once in a while. He does graduate work at the University of Mexico. Right now he’s out in the jungle with a couple of our men. Should be back any minute, however.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us his plane had ‘Mexico City’ on it?” Joe asked.

  “I didn’t know. He told us he bought a small plane recently, but I never saw it.”

  Just then three men appeared at the excavation site. Two were Mexican workmen, the third a handsome young fellow with wavy black hair and a bright smile.

  “Hey, Carlos!” Steve called out. “These people want to meet you.”

  He introduced everyone, then Frank asked Carlos if he had ever been in Wakefield, U.S.A.

  The young man was surprised. “No, I have never been out of Mexico. Why do you ask?”

  “We’re trailing a private plane marked ‘Mexico City’ that took off from an airstrip near Wakefield.”

  “When was that?” Carlos asked.

  Frank gave him the date.

  “Wait a minute,” Weiss intervened. “At that time Carlos was here at the Palango dig with us.”

  Melville Courtney had been listening. Now he slapped his swagger stick against his boot and addressed the boys. “My dear chaps, you will have to look elsewhere for your culprit. My goodness, how suspicious you are!”

  “I realize you have a case to solve,” Steve Weiss said. “But I hope you’ll stay and lead us to the lost pyramid. We’ll go out tomorrow and do a preliminary survey. After that we’ll take a work gang and begin clearing away the vegetation.”

  Frank and Joe looked at Armstrong, who nodded vigorously. “Of course we’ll stay. We’ll be glad to guide you to the place.” To Frank he said in a low tone, “I don’t believe Calderón is as harmless as he seems. Maybe someone else flew his plane. We’ll stay here and keep him under surveillance.”

  Steve Weiss and his group were excited about the lost pyramid, and they could hardly wait to explore it. “We’re glad you caught that smuggler,” Steve told the boys. “We just dug up a lot of artifacts, and he might have stolen them. Look here.” He showed them small statues, images of the Mayan gods, an assortment of weapons and knives, and some tablets bearing petroglyphic inscriptions.

  “This is our masterpiece,” he declared, holding one up for all to see. “It’s an image of the Aztec war god. The Aztecs traded with the Mayas of Yucatán, you know.”

  The image was a shining gold mask. The features were contorted into a ferocious scowl, and the jade eyes reflected the sunlight in shimmering blue-green.

  Weiss handed the mask to Frank, who examined it and passed the piece around the circle. Everybody was thrilled by the Aztec war god. Chet and Carlos were fascinated.

  Armstrong hefted the mask. “Feels like solid gold,” he announced. “I’d say it’s as valuable as one of our larger bars in the mint.”

  He began to speak with Chet, Carlos, and Pendleton about the quality of gold. Later that evening, the four sat up after the others had gone to bed. Just before he fell asleep, Joe heard Chet retire to his tent.

  A rattling noise woke Joe up hours later. It came from the tent where the artifacts were kept. Somebody was banging them together as if searching for something! Silently Joe crept toward the tent, straining his eyes to see in the darkness. A figure stole out and walked toward the jungle.

  Dark clouds floated past overhead. Moonlight gleamed on a gold mask molded into a ferocious scowl.

  “Whoever he is,” Joe thought, “he’s stealing the valuable gold mask!”

  CHAPTER XV

  Lethal Reptiles

  For a moment Joe stared at the thief, who was slowly strolling along in the darkness. Then the young detective crept back to his tent and awakened Frank.

  “Someone’s taking off with the golden mask!” he whispered into his brother’s ear. “We’d better stop him!”

  Frank bolted out of his sleeping bag. “Go after him,” he said. “I’ll wake the others and we’ll be right there.”

  Joe ran from the camp as quietly as he could in order not to alert the thief. The man might run into the jungle and disappear into the night! He saw the thief, still walking slowly in the moonlight, and caught up to him. “Stop!” Joe commanded. “Don’t go any farther!”

  He expected the thief to whirl around and attack him, and was ready to fight. Instead, the man turned slowly, holding the mask over his face, and said nothing!

  By now Frank and the others ran up. “Joe, did you get him?” Frank called out.

  “Right here,” Joe replied.

  “Who is he?” Steve Weiss demanded.

  Joe stared at the thief, who stood motionless, his face hidden behind the ancient image. “Come on,” Joe said, “take that thing away and stop playing games!”

  The man did not move. Joe grabbed the mask and pulled it from the thief’s face.

  Carlos Calderón!

  “Carlos, what are you doing with that mask?” Steve Weiss asked, incredulous. “You’re not trying to steal it, are you?”

  “Of course he is,” Armstrong declared. “He took it and then tried to make a getaway. I suspected him all along!”

  Weiss took the mask from Joe. “I don’t know the explanation,” he said, “but Carlos is not a thief. I’m sure of that.”

  “Weiss, you’re out of your mind,” Armstrong exploded. “We’ve caught him red-handed!”

  Carlos stood perfectly still, saying nothing. He looked at the rest with a fixed stare.

  “He’s sleepwalking!” Tony exclaimed.

  “No, that’s not it,” Frank said. “A sleepwalker would have awakened after all this commotion.”

  Rose walked up to Carlos. She peered deep into his eyes, made passes with her hand in front of his face, and spoke to him. He did not react.

  “He’s in a trance,” the biologist said. “I think Carlos has been hypnotized. I’ve studied the subject and I know all the signs. A hypnotized person looks just the way Carlos does.”

  Frank became excited. “Somebody hypnotized Carlos and made him take the gold mask!”

  Chet scratched his head. “But who?”

  “Nobody in this camp,” Weiss said. “None of us is a hypnotist.”

  “Could it be somebody hiding in the jungle?” Tony suggested. “The guy met Carlos, hypnotized him, and told him to get the mask. A confederate of Rumble Murphy’s, perhaps.”

  “You may be right,” Joe said. “It’s one more mystery for us to solve.”

  Weiss tapped a finger against his chin. “I’ve just thought of something. Aztec masks of the gods were supposed to have a hypnotic effect on worshippers in the temples. I wonder if the mask could have hypnotized Carlos.”

  “Nonsense!” Armstrong objected. “He wasn’t in a trance when I left him last night. He stole the mask deliberately!”

  “Why not ask him?” Biff suggested. He shook the student. “Carlos! Wake up!” he commanded. “Wake up!”

  Carlos did not respond.

  “It’s no use,” Rose said. “He can’t hear you. Besides, it’s dangerous to wake up a hypnotized person suddenly. It could affect his mind and impair his memory. Let him sleep it off.”

  “Just like that?” Pendleton queried.

  “Right. Most hypnotized people pass into ordinary sleep and wake up normally. In extreme cases, a doctor is needed. All we can do is see how Carlos comes out of this.”

  Weiss led the way back to camp. Rose guided Carlos by the elbow. She deposited him in his tent while Steve replaced the gold mask with the rest of the artifacts from the dig.

  “I’ll stand guard outside Calderón’s tent,” John Armstrong offered, “and make sure he doesn’t escape.”

  The others went back to sleep. In the morning, Carlos came out
of his tent to join the group for breakfast. Armstrong, who was still on guard, grabbed him.

  “Hey, let go of me!” the student objected. “What’s the idea? I can walk on my own.”

  “We saw that last night,” Armstrong replied sarcastically.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “About the way you tried to walk off with the gold mask!”

  “John, you don’t make any sense at all,” Carlos said, looking puzzled. “You took the mask back to the tent before we went to bed, not I!”

  “Come on, the others will tell you,” Armstrong said, dragging the student to the breakfast area.

  Everyone seemed to stare at him in a strange way. Carlos began to feel uncomfortable. “Is anything wrong?” he asked. “John said something about my walking off with the mask. What is this?”

  “Carlos, what is the last thing you remember last night?” Frank Hardy asked.

  “Well, Chet, John, Pendleton, and I talked about the mask and admired the beautiful craftsmanship. Then John took it back to the artifacts tent and we all went to bed.”

  “And then?”

  “Then? Nothing. I went to sleep! What in the world are you getting at?”

  “You walked off into the jungle with the mask in the middle of the night,” Armstrong said. “Don’t deny it because we all saw you!”

  Carlos stared at the man in utter astonishment, then turned to Steve Weiss. “Steve,” he said, and his voice was shaking with fear and bewilderment, “what is this man trying to do to me? You know I’m not a thief. I didn’t touch that mask after I went to my tent. You people all know me. Please, won’t anyone stick up for me?”

  Rose walked over to the student and put her arm around his shoulders. “Calm down, Carlos. Something happened last night, and we have a pretty good idea what. You were hypnotized and started to walk away from the camp with the mask. Moreover you didn’t react to anything we said to you.”

  “Hypnotized! But—but I don’t remember anything of the sort.”

  “You wouldn’t, so don’t worry about it.”

  Carlos sat down and put his head into his hands. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”