The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior (9 page)

“Not on your life!” said Frank. “Have you forgotten why we came? We're looking for Senor Tatloc.”

“But you're not going to find him,” Chet predicted. “Even if he does work on the ruins, why would he stay at night?”

Chet had almost convinced the Hardys he was right, when suddenly Joe cried softly, “Look!”

At the top of a pyramid just ahead was a flickering light, like that of a lantern.

“We're in luck!” Joe said excitedly. “That might be Senor Tatloc up there.”

Frank looked doubtful. He suggested that the whole story of the archaeologist's being at the ruins might have been a hoax. He reminded his brother that the hotel manager had not heard of the great discovery.

“But why would anybody make up such a story?” Joe asked.

“It's a long guess, but it might even have been done to lure us out here,” Frank answered. “Our enemies would know that we would be sure to investigate. We'll go up that pyramid and see what the light's all about. But we'd better be on our guard.”

This latest thought of Frank's did not please Chet. He said he wished the three of them had never come and why didn't they go home at once?

The Hardys did not answer. They were already scrambling up the steps at a fast pace. Chet remained below, debating with himself what to do. He did not relish running into Wayne's kidnapper or the mysterious Mexican named Jimenez. On the other hand, he did not want to be left alone.

Frank and Joe, eager to get to the top, had not noticed that Chet had stayed behind. Suddenly their chum let out an agonizing yell.

“Look out, fellows! There are—”

At that moment something hit Chet hard on the head. He blacked out!

HEARING Chet's warning, Frank and Joe turned abruptly. Two shadowy figures had sneaked up near them. Each held a raised club, about to descend on the Hardys' heads!

With quick reflexes, Frank and Joe struck out and sent their assailants spinning down the steps. Then the brothers raced for the top of the pyramid.

As they ran Frank gasped, “Maybe we're running into a trap! The light on top may belong to the gang that's after us!”

“You mean we'd better not take a chance?” Joe asked.

Frank continued to dash upwards, saying, “I don't think we have any choice. We know there are enemies below and—”

He suddenly stopped talking and stood still. After gazing all around, he said worriedly, “Where's Chet?”

Joe looked about him. The moonlight was bright enough for him to get a clear view of the steps. Chet was not on them.

“I guess he didn't follow us,” Joe said finally. “When Chet saw those men, he ran away.”

“But where is he?” Frank persisted. “He may have been attacked!”

Their eyes roved slowly across the great plaza below them. There was no sign of their chum.

Panic seized the Hardys. “Those hoods we knocked down probably got him!” Frank gritted.

“But Chet warned us,” Joe reminded his brother. “Why wouldn't he have run away?”

“The men who tried to club us probably had pals with them,” Frank reasoned. “They nabbed Chet!”

The Hardys wasted no more time in conversation. Abandoning the plan to find out who had been using the light at the top of the pyramid, they hurried down to the base. Without depending entirely on moonlight for their search, the brothers swung their flashlights in great arcs. They failed to pick up any trace of their chum. Sure now that he had been kidnapped, the boys berated themselves for failing to check on him when they had started up the steps.

“How could we be so stupid?” Joe said glumly. “I suppose we'll have to go back to town and—”

He stopped speaking as the boys noticed two figures hurrying from a doorway in one of the ancient stone buildings. Instinctively, the Hardys followed. But the men were some distance ahead and apparently more familiar with the place than the brothers. They turned a corner of a temple and disappeared.

Frank and Joe doubled their speed but were unable to catch a glimpse of the fleeing figures. A few minutes later they heard the roar of a car motor and were sure that the men had left the area.

“One thing is certain,” said Joe. “They didn't have Chet with them.”

Frank nodded. “Which leads me to believe that they may have left him in that building they came out of.”

The brothers started back on a run. When they reached the doorway, the boys beamed their lights inside. It revealed nothing but an empty room.

“Maybe Chet's tied up nearby,” Joe suggested. “Let's call him.”

He shouted into the building, then outdoors. There was no reply.

“We've heard only one car leave,” said Frank. “If some of the gang took Chet with them, they carried him off before those two men fled. And if they did, we certainly aren't going to find him here.”

Nevertheless, Joe continued to call his friend's name. Finally he stopped and the two boys stood still, trying to decide on their next move.

Frank suddenly shifted his weight. “I heard something!” he whispered.

The brothers listened intently. A sound like a muffled groan came to their ears.

“It must be inside this building,” Frank insisted.

The brothers inspected the walls of the room. At one point there was a chest-high narrow opening, almost filled with several large loose stones. They were apparently part of an ancient doorway. Through it, the Hardys could hear the groaning more plainly. Working frantically, they began tearing down the blockade.

The Hardys squirmed through the opening, and Frank swung his flashlight around a small inner room. On the floor lay Chet Morton, semi-conscious!

Frank and Joe leaped to examine their stout friend. Evidently he had been struck on the head, but otherwise he appeared to be uninjured.

“I wish I knew where there was some water,” said Frank. “It might help revive him.”

The sound of Frank's voice seemed to have a stimulating effect on Chet. He blinked his eyes open and looked uncertainly about him.

“Chet!” Frank and Joe cried out together, and Frank added, “Thank goodness you're all right!”

Chet was too groggy to talk. But being used to rugged treatment in football games, he tried to sit up.

“We'll take you outside into the fresh air,” said Frank.

He and Joe carefully raised Chet to a standing position. Then, supporting him under his arms, they helped him out to the esplanade. He took several deep breaths of air and seemed to be somewhat refreshed.

“Did somebody hit you?” Frank asked.

“I—I guess so,” Chet answered weakly. As his head cleared, he said, “I'm glad you fellows are all right. Boy, when I saw those two guys with the clubs about to hit you on the noggin, I nearly passed out. You heard me yell, didn't you?”

“We sure did,” Joe told him. “Thanks for saving our necks.”

Suddenly Chet began to wobble. The Hardys grabbed him and insisted that they go back to the hotel at once. Supporting him again, they made the trek to their car. For a moment Frank was worried that their unknown assailants might have tampered with the automobile. To his relief, as soon as he turned on the ignition, the motor roared to life.

As they started off, all three boys wondered what the mysterious assailants had hoped to accomplish. Were they part of the gang looking for the valuable Aztec warrior and still harassing the threesome to keep them from proceeding with their detective work?

“Whoever they were,” said Chet, “you Hardys were too smart for them. I'm sorry I fouled you up and you couldn't find out about that light on top of the pyramid. Do you suppose those gangsters hide out up there?”

“I doubt it,” said Frank. “It would be too noticeable. Maybe some of our questions can be answered if we come back tomorrow and search Monte Alban in the daylight.”

Chet said nothing. His head ached, and he felt a little dizzy. “Bed sure will feel good,” he said. He did not mention that he hoped Frank and Joe would make the trip by themselves the following day.

Actually the Hardys had the same idea. But they decided to wait until morning before saying anything to Chet.

When they reached their hotel room, the dazed boy dropped onto his bed. “I think I'll sleep with my clothes on,” he said. “Too much trouble to take 'em off.” His voice faded.

“We'll do it,” the Hardys offered.

First, they removed his jacket and hung it up. Next came his shoes and socks, then his trousers.

As Frank unbuttoned Chet's sport shirt, a wadded piece of paper fell to the floor.

Frank picked it up. “What's this?” he asked.

Chet, who had closed his eyes, responded sleepily, “What's what?”

“This piece of paper you wadded up and put inside your shirt.”

“I didn't put anything in my shirt,” Chet insisted.

Eagerly Joe grabbed the paper and smoothed it out. Printed boldly in Spanish was a warning. Joe blinked, but refrained from reading it aloud, not wishing to disturb Chet any further.

Frank sensed that his brother had found something important but waited. The stout boy had become drowsy again and said nothing more about the paper. The Hardys finished undressing him and put on his pajamas. Within another thirty seconds, Chet was fast asleep.

Frank counted his friend's pulse beat. “He's okay, Joe.”

Quickly moving to the bureau where Joe had laid the paper, Frank gasped in astonishment. The message read:

IN whispers, so they would not awaken Chet, Frank and Joe discussed the strange warning.

“I think we should take it to the local police,” said Frank.

At the hotel desk Joe asked the manager if it would be safe for them to be on the streets alone at this hour of night. Mr. Perez looked at them in surprise and said that Oaxaca was a very fine town with excellent police protection.

“No offense intended,” said Joe, “My brother and I were attacked recently in Mexico City.”

“Oh, I understand now.” Mr. Perez smiled. “You wish to go to a restaurant?”

“We may drop in for a midnight snack,” said Joe, not wishing to give his real reason for going out. “If we get into any trouble, we'll make a beeline to police headquarters.” He grinned. “Where is it, by the way?”

Mr. Perez gave them directions and the boys set off. At headquarters they told the officer on duty, Captain Valero, what had happened to Chet and themselves at the Monte Alban ruins.

The officer frowned. “I am sorry you were subjected to this indignity. Did you bring the paper with you?”

Frank handed it to Captain Valero, who read it several times. Finally he spoke up. “There's a band of young reactionaries in this area, I am sorry to say, and this may be more of their work. Their motives are perhaps laudable, but they should not try to act independently of the law.”

Frank and Joe, puzzled, asked what the young men did.

Captain Valero replied, “They are against visitors from your country and from every other nation. They have an idea that sightseers come here for the sole purpose of stealing our relics. As you know, there is a law that anything of value found in Mexico must be turned over to our government. The presentation is often made to a museum.” He smiled. “Our State Museum here in Oaxaca has a priceless collection of artifacts. You must visit it.”

“But it isn't true that all visitors from the United States come here with theft in mind,” Joe protested.

“The authorities know that,” the captain stated, “but it is difficult to persuade hotheaded young men that they are wrong in the methods they use to carry out their fanaticism.”

Frank changed the subject. “Joe and I are down here looking for two men. That is why we went out to the ruins. Do you happen to know a Roberto Hermosa or a Señor Tatloc?”

“I have not heard of Roberto Hermosa. Senor Tatloc is an archaeologist, yes?” As the boys nodded, Captain Valero went on, “I have heard that some famous archaeologist—I don't know the name—was working at Monte Alban. Perhaps he is Señor Tatloc, but I cannot say for sure.”

The police officer paused a few moments, then said, “I am afraid I have not been of much help to you boys. But I wish you luck in your quest. In the meantime, I will keep this note. It will be very good evidence against this overpatriotic, troublesome young group, if they are guilty. I must warn you that they can be dangerous. But you have already found that out.”

The Hardys said they would be on guard and report any further trouble to the police. As the brothers walked back to the hotel, they discussed the young zealots. Were they sincere in their motives, or had they perhaps, undercover, been doing a job for the men who were trying to find the Aztec warrior?

“I can hardly wait for morning to come so we can get back to Monte Alban,” said Joe. “I have a hunch we're going to get a break in this mystery at last.”

“I sure hope that you're right,” Frank answered.

The boys passed a food shop which was still open and went inside. Their night's adventure had made them hungry, and they also figured that when Chet woke up, he would be ravenous. They purchased three large
enchiladas
and took them along, together with three bottles of soda.

Chet was still asleep, so the brothers set the food on his night table. They ate their own midnight snack and then went to bed. When the Hardys opened their eyes the next morning, Chet was sitting up in bed reading a magazine, munching his
enchilada,
and drinking soda.