Biff Brewster - Mystery Of The Mexican Treasure Part 3

"And why," retorted Monica, "do you think I'm making it up?"

"Because we were together all afternoon, so I should have seen these people too."

"That's what you think. Remember when we came back to the hotel just before dinner and you rushed right in through the door ahead of mother and me?"

Ted's face began to turn red as he recalled the incident. Before he could stop Monica, she went on: "That's when I saw the big man and the cab driver. But when I came into the hotel, mother was lecturing you for being impolite, so I didn't have a chance to say anything about it. I tried to, but mother told me not to interrupt, so I just forgot about it."

Mrs. Brewster nodded that she remembered the occasion, and so did Biff.

"I stayed in the car and drove it around to the parking lot," Biff testified. "I didn't see the man that Monica mentions, but I suppose he pointed me out to 44 .

the cab driver, too." He turned to Monica. "Next time anything like that happens, be sure and tell me, sis."

"I will," promised Monica.

After Inspector Gonzales had gone, Mr. Brewster clapped his arm on Biff's shoulder and said: "You see, son? You had Senor Ramonez all wrapped up as Suspect Number One. Now, our chief candidate is a big American with a round red face, wearing sport clothes and a ranchero hat. Quite a difference, isn't it?"

Biff nodded. "But I'm still not very sure about Ramonez, Dad."

"Neither am I," returned Mr. Brewster with a serious smile, "but we still have much to learn before we solve the mystery of Tizoc, and many things can happen between now and then!"

CHAPTER VI.

The Man from the Mine TWO days later, the Brewsters took off from Mexico City in a specially chartered plane, bound for El Cielo. There were nine persons on the plane, all told, for in addition to the pilot and copilot, there were two more pa.s.sengers.

One, of course, was Professor Mark Bortha, who had cut short his study of the newly found inscriptions at the ruins of Teotihuacan in order to return to El Cielo, where more important work awaited.

The other was Mike Arista, who had talked his uncle into letting him go along on the trip, which pleased Biff immensely. Actually, it hadn't taken much talking on Mike's part. As Mike expressed it to Biff: "I told my uncle that you and I had been in on the start of this Tizoc trouble and that we ought to see it through together. So he agreed."

45.

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Biff realized that there was more to it than just that, though he didn't say so. Mike's keen interest in Aztec history and legends unquestionably pleased his uncle greatly. So Judge Arista had probably welcomed the opportunity to send his favorite nephew to the scene of new and promising excavations at El Cielo, where Mike could view such work at first hand.

From the windows of the twin-engined plane, they watched the airport drop away as they rapidly gained alt.i.tude. Biff heard his father say approvingly to Professor Bortha: "A good s.h.i.+p, this, for climbing over the mountains. I suppose we'll have to make a steep landing at El Cielo."

"If we can land there at all," returned Bortha. "I just hope that the landing strip is ready. If it isn't, they will wave us off and we'll be forced to return here."

They were now high above Mexico City, which formed a vast, widespread scene of dazzling white, centered in the great bowl of the Anahuac Valley, or Valley of Mexico. Even the city's new skysc.r.a.pers were dwarfed when viewed from the plane, but the whiteness of the metropolis was matched by two snowcapped peaks that seemingly towered higher and higher as the plane approached them.

They were the great volcanoes, Popocatepetl, "Smoking Mountain," and Ixtaccihuatl, "White THE MAN FROM THE MINE 47.

Woman," each rising nearly two miles above the valley, which itself had an alt.i.tude of more than a mile and a half above sea level. Professor Bortha mentioned these statistics as the plane droned toward the mountains. Then he told how, in Aztec legend, Popocatepetl was an ancient prince, holding a flaming torch above the perpetually sleeping figure of Ixtaccihuatl, his beloved princess who had died while he was away at the wars.

Despite the rather drab, matter-of-fact way in which Bortha related these myths, they sounded interesting, particularly as the serious, straight-lipped professor always finished with some pointed conclusion. In this case, Bortha added: "The detail of the flaming torch proves that Popocatepetl was an active volcano at that time. Even at the time of the Spanish Conquest it was pictured with flames coming from the cone, in native drawings showing Cortez and his men entering the great valley."

As the plane neared the mighty mountains, which were at the southeast of the valley, Bortha ordered the pilot to set a course due north. The pa.s.sengers gained a close look at the great peaks as they changed direction; then Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl were far behind them, and Bortha was discussing the next feature of their tour.

"The ancient city of Teotihuacan," he stated. "It is thirty miles northeast of Mexico City and was origi- 48 .

nally built by the Toltecs, a race older than the Aztecs, who apparently found the place abandoned when they arrived here and formed their own legends regarding it."

The plane was dipping low over a small valley, where a great, flat-topped pyramid dominated the scene. Even from the air, the structure was impressive, and everyone was studying it, as Professor Bortha announced: "The Pyramid of the Sun, once topped by an Aztec temple which the Spanish conquerors destroyed. It is more than two hundred feet high, a long, hard climb, though it may look easy from up here."

The pilot banked the plane while Bortha spoke, and the ground seemed to slant up to meet the sky, Sun Pyramid and all. Pointing almost straight from the window, Bortha called attention to the smaller and much less imposing Pyramid of the Moon, and then to a lower structure which he termed the Temple of Quetzalcoatl, or the Feathered Serpent.

By then, the plane was leveling and heading west, while Bortha made the whimsical comment: "According to one Aztec legend, when the moon tried to outs.h.i.+ne the sun, an ancient G.o.d became indignant and threw a rabbit at the moon. So instead of seeing a man in the moon, many Mexicans picture a rabbit there."

"Remember that," said Ted to Monica. "If you see THE MAN FROM THE MINE 49.

the man with the big moon face again, he may have rabbit ears sticking through his ranchero hat."

Monica giggled, and Bortha stared so sharply at the twins that Biff thought for the moment that the professor was offended. To ease the situation, Biff asked politely: "Just where were the inscriptions that you were studying the past few days, Professor?"

Bortha didn't seem to hear the question, so Biff repeated it. By then Bortha was smiling slightly, as if realizing that the twins were joking.

"They were in a new excavation near the Temple of Quetzalcoatl," stated Bortha. "I found a great many items of interests to report to Dr. La Vega." He opened a brief case and brought out a sheaf of papers covered with rough sketches and written notes. "Remind me to dictate these on the machine when we reach El Cielo. It will take me a couple of hours."

"Did you learn anything about Tizoc?" inquired Mike. "I mean from the inscriptions?"

"No, they were all too ancient," replied Bortha. "But I still have hope that some of the older legends of the Toltec era will give us a key to the thinking of the later Aztecs. The histories of the early Mexican races are like loosely connected links, rather than a complete chain."

"Speaking of chains," put in Mr. Brewster. "Look at those mountains below us!"

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They were climbing above the Sierra Madre range, which bulged like the backs of great gray elephants. The altimeter showed 12,000 feet, yet still more seemed needed to clear these Cordilleras, as the mountains were also called. There were literally hundreds of such peaks, fading off as far as the eye could see.

Great gullies, jagged ravines, showed among the mountain folds as the plane continued its climb, b.u.mping occasionally as it encountered cross-winds and air pockets above the mountain pa.s.ses. At one stretch, a highway skirted one mountain flank, only to vanish beyond the next peak.

"We saw mountains like those when we were driving up the big climb from Tamazunchale," recalled Biff, "and we wondered what lay beyond them. Remember, mother?"

Mrs. Brewster smiled and replied: "Now we are finding out. Just mountains and more mountains. It's a long way between highways."

"And between railroads, too," said Professor Bortha, indicating what looked like a thin pencil line down in a deep gorge. "That is the one I came in on, the other evening."

The mountains continued in endless procession, the main difference being in the valleys. Some were deeper and greener than the others; a few had a lush, tropical appearance. Finally, the plane dipped into one valley, banked to avoid the opposite mountain wall, then fol- THE MAN FROM THE MINE 51.

lowed a course up the valley itself. The green ground became a rugged canyon, studded with cactus and a few spa.r.s.e trees. Bortha called attention to a huddle of dilapidated buildings, far below.

"An old silver mining settlement," he stated. "A man named Justin Kirby has been trying to revive it, sending out silver and bringing in mining machinery by pack train. You can see the trail going up the side of the mountain."

There it was, zigzagging toward a lofty summit that formed a dead end of the valley. Close to the ridge was a cl.u.s.ter of adobe buildings surrounding a picturesque church, one house set above another, like a series of steps.

"That is the village of El Cielo," Bortha said. "Look to the left, and you will see our excavations."

A great mound of rough, broken stone extended beneath the highest portion of an overhanging cliff which rose five hundred feet above. A tiny hole was visible, like the entrance to a mine shaft. Above it stood a small, square wooden cabin.

"That cabin is our operating base," Bortha explained. "Dr. La Vega spends most of his time there. But it is much more comfortable in the hotel above the town. It was once the hacienda of a wealthy mine owner."

Biff noted the building that Bortha mentioned. It was a wide, sprawly structure, overlooking the town. The pack trail continued up in back of the old 52 .

hacienda and over the ridge, just short of the towering cliff. But now the plane was veering toward the right of the little village, toward a ledge that was hewn in the mountainside. Tiny figures were signaling from the ledge.

"The landing strip is ready," declared Bortha with a sigh of relief. "They are waving us in."

The rocky wall loomed forward to meet the plane; the ledge itself seemed to lift and receive the landing gear. The plane braked to a stop with one wing tip extending over the ledge and its nose pointed toward the village. As the pa.s.sengers alighted from the plane they were received with a roar of welcome.

Practically the entire population of El Cielo had turned out to greet them. Biff saw native men wearing white trousers and colorful sc.r.a.pes with big sombreros on their heads. The women were attired in full skirts and loose blouses, all quaintly embroidered. All had had happy, smiling faces. They had seen airplanes before, but this was the first that had ever visited their cliff village.

To Biff, it was like an old Aztec legend come to life. He turned to Mike and was about to say so. But Mike spoke first.

"These people are sharp!" Mike exclaimed. "Right up to the minute. They even have mariachis here to meet us!"

"Mariachis?" queried Biff.

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"Yes," replied Mike. "Those musicians over there, with the violins and big guitars. The biggest ones are called guitarrons."

Biff saw the group that Mike mentioned. A dozen in all, they were strumming away as loudly as they could, and three of them were piping on odd-sized flutes that should have been heard, but weren't, because of the clamor of the crowd.

"Strolling musicians!" exclaimed Biff. "Like those who were seen near your uncle's house after the Tizoc exhibit was stolen!"

"I hadn't thought of that," returned Mike. "I wonder if I've seen any of that crowd before. I'm even wondering why they should be here. See that one in the middle with the guitarron? He looks familiar to me, Biff. Take a look at him-"

Before Biff could look, Monica had rushed up. She had something to say that not only took Biff's full attention, but Mike's as well.

"I promised I'd tell you, Biff, if I saw him again!" Monica exclaimed. "The man with the big rabbit ears -I mean the man with the big moon face- Oh, I wish that Ted would stop teasing me the way he does."

"Go on," encouraged Biff. "The man with the moon face. The American with the gray suit and the big ranchero hat."

"That's the one I mean," nodded Monica. "Only he's wearing different clothes now, except for the hat.

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But he's tilting his head, the way he did before. He's right over there."

As Monica pointed, Biff looked, and so did Mike. They saw a burly man, dressed in a rancher's outfit, wearing the exact type of hat that Monica had described. He was turning away, but Biff glimpsed his face. It was round and moonlike; and his head was tilted, as though he hoped to hide his features.

A moment later, and the man was gone, beyond the crowd of natives. When Mike tried to rouse Biff's interest in the mariachis, they were gone beyond the crowd too. Only the strum of their stringed instruments could be heard in the distance. But the situation was not a total loss.

Professor Bortha had stepped up in time to hear Monica's last excited words and to note the man that she had mentioned. He nodded as he glimpsed the ranchero hat before it bobbed from sight beyond the native crowd.

"That man," delared Bortha, "is Justin Kirby, the mine owner from the valley. Why should he have come up here to greet us?"

"I don't know," replied Biff, a bit bewildered. "I am wondering why he should have been in Mexico City, where my sister saw him last."

Professor Bortha turned to Monica.

"You saw Kirby in Mexico City?"

Monica nodded. Almost word for word, she re- THE MAN FROM THE MINE 55.

peated everything that she had said before regarding the man with the big ranchero hat outside the Hotel Del Monte. While Monica was speaking, Professor Bortha drew a notebook from his pocket and jotted down every word that she said.

"This will be included in my report to Dr. La Vega," declared Bortha, in his serious tone. Then, relaxing into one of his rare smiles, he added: "Now let us forget such things for the moment. The villagers of El Cielo are here to greet us. We must return their welcome!"

CHAPTER VII.

Four Slips of Paper "WELL, boys, the excitement is over."

Mr. Brewster clapped one hand on Biff's shoulder, the other on Mike's as they stood in front of the Hotel Pico, as the old hacienda was called. Just below, groups of villagers were returning to the town, waving back as they went.

They had carried all the luggage from the plane up to the hotel. If they had been allowed to do so, they would have carried the pa.s.sengers as well, so eager were they to give these strangers from the sky a real reception.

There was no sign, though, of Justin Kirby, the round-faced mining operator from the valley. A few of the mariachis had come along with the crowd, but the guitarron players had evidently decided that their 56 FOUR SLIPS OF PAPER 57.

instruments were too big and c.u.mbersome to carry all that way. They were not with the rest.

Now, briefly, Biff told his father about Kirby; how Monica had pointed him out as the man she had noticed in Mexico City. Biff's account brought a smile from Mr. Brewster.

"I think Monica was impressed by the big ranchero hat," Mr. Brewster declared. "It could have made her picture Kirby as the man she had seen before. Still, Kirby could have been in Mexico City three days ago and managed to get back here by now, even by pack train. I'll keep that in mind when I meet him. Visiting local mines is part of my job."

Mr. Brewster paused, studied the two boys, and then asked: "Is there anything else?"

"Only the mariachis" replied Biff. "They reminded us of the strolling musicians in Mexico City. Mike thought they might be the same ones who were outside his uncle's house."

"I guess my imagination was working, too," put in Mike a bit sheepishly. "I realize now that most of the mariachis came from small towns originally, so even a village like El Cielo would have its own band."