The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior (12 page)

“Here comes the matador!” Joe announced suddenly.

On a hunch Joe walked up to the young man and asked if he knew of anyone else in Mexico having the name Roberto Hermosa.

The matador replied, “Yes, I have heard of such a man. I have never met him, but I understand he lives out near the Tule Tree. He is an authority on Mexican ruins.”

THE Roberto Hermosa for whom they were looking might be an authority on Mexican ruins! This, thought the Hardys, was certainly a connection with Señor Tatloc!

The boys thanked the matador for his information and returned to the hotel. After consulting his map, Frank remarked that the Tule Tree was on the way to the Mitla ruins. “We may as well keep going and take in the ruins while we're at it.” He added excitedly, “Remember the picture we found at Mr. Moore's house of the man under the giant tree?”

“You think maybe you'll find Senor Tatloc near there?” Chet questioned.

“Possibly. Or at Mitla which is not far from it.”

Joe, who had been looking at the guidebook, asked, “Did you know the Tule Tree is three thousand years old? It's supposed to be the oldest living thing on the American continent!”

“What kind of tree is it?” Chet asked.

“A green cypress.”

“Imagine living all that time and growing bigger every year!” Chet exclaimed.

Joe began to laugh, “Pal, you'd better not live so long!”

The stout boy took the remark with a grin and said, “I'm not worried. The needles you're always putting into me will keep me from expanding.”

The following morning Chet decided to go back to the weapon shop and retrieve his dagger. “The police must have finished with it by this time,” he said.

“Okay,” Frank agreed.

When the boys stopped at the shop, the clerk said they would have to go to headquarters to claim the weapon. He confided that he had not slept a wink all night. “When I told the police about those thieves, they looked at me as if I were stupid. Well, maybe I am. I'm certainly out a lot of money—I know. I'll have to make good.”

The three boys felt sorry that the clerk had been duped, but had no solution to offer for his mistake.

“Maybe you'll get a break and make a lot of big sales today,” said Frank, as the boys walked toward the door.

“I hope so. I'll have to do something,” the clerk said dolefully. He began to mutter distractedly about “cheats and hoodlums.”

The boys slipped out quietly and climbed into the car. After Chet had retrieved his warrior dagger from the police, Frank drove in the direction of the Tule Tree. A few miles beyond town they came upon the tall, stately cypress standing majestically in a park area. The three boys stepped from the car and gazed in amazement at the mammoth trunk.

“It's astounding!” said Joe.

A sign nailed to the trunk said that the tree was one hundred and sixty feet in circumference. Its many branches spread out gracefully over a tremendous distance.

Frank walked around the base of the giant tree. As he gazed upward, thinking how symmetrical the branches were, his foot kicked something. Looking down, Frank saw that he had dislodged a small stone. In the small depression lay a metal object. Frank stooped and picked it up.

“Find something?” asked Joe, who had followed his brother.

“Yes. This looks like a belt buckle.”

“Valuable?” Chet asked, grinning.

Frank, intent on scrutinizing the buckle through his magnifying glass, did not answer immediately. “Valuable!” he exclaimed finally. “I'll say! Just look at this!”

Engraved on the back of the buckle was the name Maxli Tatloc. On the face was an ornate engraving of an Aztec warrior standing in the center of a circle formed by a coiled serpent.

The fangs of the serpent formed the initial M and the tail the initial T. Excitedly Frank suggested the meaning. The serpent signified time with the Aztecs. So the warrior, encircled by time, could mean that Maxli Tatloc was a direct descendant of an Aztec warrior.

“Wow-eee!” Chet exclaimed. “That museum curator—back at Oaxaca—sure has competition.”

Suddenly the three noticed a Mexican boy of about twelve who had come up silently and stood eying the visitors. Frank smiled and asked him, “Can you tell us something about this tree?”

“For a few pesos I will give you whole history.”

Frank dug into his pocket and extracted some coins. The lad's face broke into a flashing grin. He said, “My name is Carlos.”

After relating the facts which the boys already knew, Carlos added that the great Spanish conqueror Cortes had rested under the tree on his way to Honduras.

Frank asked the boy if he knew anyone named Maxli Tatloc. “No, I do not. But I have learned in history that in ancient times Maxli was a great Aztec warrior.”

His listeners exchanged excited glances. This bit of information seemed to lend credence to the idea that Señor Maxli Tatloc was the Aztec warrior whom they sought!

“Does anyone around here dig in the ruins?” Chet asked Carlos.

The boy replied with a grin, “Everybody does! We all hope to find treasures and sell them to our government.”

“Have you ever heard of a Señor Tatloc?” Joe queried.

“No.”

“How about Roberto Hermosa?” Frank asked.

The boy's eyes lighted up. “Yes. Senor Hermosa live nearby. If you wish to see him, drive straight down this road”—he pointed in an easterly direction—“turn left on first street, and stop at house with high white wall around it.”

Joe pressed another peso into the boy's hand. “Can you tell us anything about this Señor Hermosa?”

“He is a fine digger,” Carlos replied. “He go sometime on long trips with professors.”

The Hardys were delighted with this revelation. They hardly dared hope their search might soon be ending, but they had strong hunches it was. The Roberto Hermosa whom they were going to seek out
must
have knowledge of the whereabouts of the Aztec warrior descendant for whom they were looking.

The youngster accompanied the three sleuths to their car and waved good-by. In a few minutes Frank drew up in front of the house where Roberto Hermosa lived, and the boys hopped out. Joe knocked and soon the door was opened by a plump, elderly housekeeper wearing a black dress and a flat piece of black lace on her gray hair.

“Senor Hermosa is not at home,” she said in answer to Joe's question. “He is out at the Mitla ruins.”

“We were going out there. No doubt we'll see him,” Joe went on.

“Perhaps you will,” she said noncommittally. “Mitla is an enormous place, and Senor Hermosa works in any area which strikes his fancy. I must warn you about one thing. He has his dogs with him—and they are not friendly.”

Chet frowned. “You can be sure we'll stay away from them,” he said.

Frank smiled. “If we do, we won't be able to talk with Senor Hermosa—and it's very important that we do.”

“I regret I cannot be of more help,” the housekeeper said. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I must get back to my work.”

The boys returned to the car and drove the rest of the way to Mitla. “That woman was right—this place
is
immense,” said Chet, glancing around in awe. “Boy, look at all those pyramids!”

They parked the car and started to walk.

“According to this guidebook,” said Joe, “the architecture of the Mitla pyramids is unique. Every stone that went into the buildings is four inches in length, and they are fitted together so perfectly that no mortar was needed. They have lasted since about the year A.D. 70!”

The site contained four huge major palaces and a number of smaller ones. These opened off a central court.

“Look at all those steps!” Chet remarked. “I'm going to call Mexico the country of steps.”

The Hardys were more interested in the angular stone doorways, some of them opening into tombs from which skeletons and treasures had long since been removed.

As the three sleuths neared one of the buildings, Chet looked in dismay at the low doorway. The only possible way to enter was to crawl. This prospect did not please him.

“You fellows go ahead,” he suggested. “If you see anything worthwhile, give a yell and I'll come.”

The Hardys gave their chum a look of pretended disgust. Joe said, “What kind of sleuth are you?”

“I'll stay out here and look around for Roberto Hermosa,” Chet announced, unruffled.

Frank and Joe dropped to their knees and pulled themselves through the low opening. The roof of the tomb was not much higher, and they were unable to stand up.

Joe, in the lead, advanced a few feet. As he was reaching inside a hip pocket to pull out his flashlight, he heard a menacing snarl. Was this one of Hermosa's unfriendly dogs or a wild animal?

Joe started to back up hurriedly and bumped squarely into Frank. Before either boy could reach the exit, suddenly terrific growling and yapping started in the tomb. The next second an animal's long fangs sank into one of Joe's legs!

JOE cried out in pain. Instantly a man's voice yelled in Spanish, “Down, Sol! Down!” The animal released its hold on the boy's leg.

A bright light was beamed on the Hardys, who were still trying to back out of the tomb.

“You're only boys!” cried the voice behind the light. “I thought you were ruffians! I am sorry! Are you hurt?”

Frank and Joe did not reply. They kept scrambling backward until they were outside.

“Wh-what happened?” Chet asked in concern.

Before the brothers could answer, a man emerged from the low doorway. He was followed by two handsome but fierce-looking shepherd dogs.

Without speaking, the Mexican examined the teeth marks on Joe's leg. Seeing that the skin had not been broken, he looked relieved.

“I hope you will forgive Sol. I keep the dogs with me for protection. He felt you boys were going to harm me. I was in an inner room of the tomb and did not hear you come in.”

Frank looked directly at the Mexican and asked, “Are you Senor Roberto Hermosa?”

“Why, yes, I am. How did you know?”

Frank explained about stopping at the man's house and that they had come down from the States searching for a person by that name. “You won't mind if we ask you some questions?”

“Not at all.”

“Did you know a man named Jonathan Moore who lived in Bayport?”

“No, but I heard a friend of mine mention his name many times.”

Frank inquired if the friend Hermosa had just mentioned was Senor Tatloc.

The Mexican's eyes opened wide. “Yes. And how did you know that?”

The young sleuth did not answer the question directly. Instead, he asked whether the two men were business or personal friends.

Roberto Hermosa laughed. “I guess you might call us both,” he replied, “although I do not see much of Senor Tatloc any more. A few years ago we used to go on digs together, then suddenly he seemed to want to work by himself.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Joe spoke up.

Hermosa shook his head. “But I will be very glad to help you find him, if it is important. You spoke of a Mr. Moore. Who is he?”

Frank pulled the various prints from his pocket and showed them to the Mexican. He instantly recognized Senor Tatloc in the picture, but said he did not know the other man.

“That's Mr. Moore,” said Frank. “He mentioned a Roberto Hermosa in his will, and we think you are the one.”

“
I
am in his will!” the Mexican exclaimed.

“It is still a puzzle to us,” said Joe. “My father is a detective. He and my brother and I were commissioned to find a descendant of an Aztec warrior and also an Aztec warrior object.”

As Hermosa fairly jumped in amazement, the boys introduced themselves.

“Then you're young detectives,” said Hermosa. “Well, maybe you can explain a few things to me. I told you I take my dogs everywhere with me for protection. The reason is that during the past two weeks I have been mysteriously attacked several times. Men I have never seen before seize me and threaten my life if I won't tell them where the valuable Aztec warrior is.”

The Hardys and Chet gave one another significant looks. Were Hermosa's attackers part of the same gang who had been harassing the boys regarding the Aztec warrior?

“I have no idea what these men are talking about,” the Mexican continued. “Every time I have insisted they have the wrong man, and they finally release me. Can you enlighten me about these Aztec warriors?”

“That's one thing we are trying to find out,” Frank replied.

Roberto Hermosa seemed to be a forthright and interesting individual. The Hardys felt it safe to tell him the provision in Mr. Moore's will.

Suddenly the Mexican gave the boys a big wink and laughed. Then, to their surprise, he told them that Senor Tatloc had lent Mr. Moore a valuable and ancient heirloom which Tatloc planned to will to a museum. Apparently the North American had promised to return it within a given period, and was to keep the whole matter a secret to avoid any publicity and possible theft.

“I do not know what the article was, however,” Hermosa concluded.

“The only hitch was that one or the other of the men might die before the time was up,” said Frank. “In this case, Mr. Moore passed away first.”

Roberto Hermosa said, puzzled, “Evidently I was elected to be the intermediary. I was to identify Senor Tatloc, who does claim to be a direct descendant of the Aztecs. But what I cannot understand is the reference in the will to the Aztec warriors. Have you any ideas?”