The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior Read online

  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!

  CHAPTER XVI

  Stunning News

  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?”

  “Yes, but only theory,” Frank replied. “Since Mr. Moore was a weapons collector, we think the object is an ancient weapon, with part of it, perhaps the handle, representing an Aztec warrior. Did Senor Tatloc ever mention such a thing?”

  “No.”

  Hermosa was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “The men who attacked me must know about Mr. Moore’s will or have other information about the warrior. How could they have got it?”

  The Hardys gave him a quick but complete account of the mystery from its start.

  The Mexican frowned. “I do not like being mixed up in this affair,” he said. “But since I am, I will question other men who dig in the ruins. They may have seen Senor Tatloc recently.”

  “Thanks,” said Frank. “By the way, was there a great Aztec warrior in ancient times named Maxli?”

  “Indeed there was! And you will be interested to know that Senor Tatloc is a direct descendant of that great Aztec warrior.”

  The Hardys and Chet could hardly conceal their excitement. There was now no doubt in their minds that Maxli Tatloc was the man for whom they were looking!

  Frank showed the belt buckle to Hermosa. “We found this near the Tule Tree,” he said. “Do you think this belongs to your friend?”

  “Yes, that is Senor Tatloc’s buckle. I knew that he had lost it. He was very much upset because he prized it highly. He would be pleased to know it has been found.”

  Frank smiled. “It would give us great pleasure to present it to Señor Maxli Tatloc.”

  The Hardys said they would keep in touch with Roberto Hermosa, and asked that he telephone them if he picked up any clues to the whereabouts of the archaeologist. They all shook hands and the boys went to their car.

  As they drove along, Joe suggested they report their latest findings to Mr. Hardy.

  When they reached the hotel Frank put in the call. Mr. Hardy praised the boys’ productive sleuthing and then said he thought they should advertise in the large Mexican newspapers for any information leading to Señor Maxli Tatloc.

  “We’ll do it right away,” said Frank.

  As soon as he had said good-by, the Hardys and Chet set off for the office of an Oaxaca newspaper. They were told that the advertisement would appear in the following morning’s edition.

  Next day the boys hurried downstairs for an early breakfast. Frank paused to buy a paper. A headline splashed across the front page made him catch his breath. He hurried to catch up with his companions, crying, “Look at this!”

  The headline read:WELL-KNOWN ARCHAEOLOGIST MAXLI TATLOC BELIEVED KILLED IN FALL FROM MOUNTAIN

  CHAPTER XVII

  Treacherous Trail

  AFTER Frank, Joe, and Chet had recovered from their initial shock, they read the article which gave the details of Senor Tatloc’s probable death. Three North American tourists—William Kimmer, Ronald Naylor, and Burt Humphrey—had reported seeing Senor Tatloc in a wild, mountainous area.

  “The minute the men saw him topple over the cliff,” the article went on, “they rushed to the edge. But there was no sign of Tatloc anywhere below.

  “Kimmer telephoned the authorities. Naylor phoned the story to this paper. A rescue party was sent out at once, but the archaeologist has not been found. It is assumed that Tatloc fell into the river at the foot of the canyon, was killed, and his body swept away.”

  The boys reread the article before speaking. Finally Chet said, “It’s terrible news. This will change your plans, won’t it, fellows?”

  “It looks that way right now,” Frank conceded. “Before we do anything more, I believe we should phone Dad.”

  As soon as they finished breakfast, Frank put in the call. Mr. Hardy, who fortunately had not yet left the house, was stunned by the news. “This changes the whole aspect of the case,” he said. “Does the newspaper article say that Tatloc fell off the cliff?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s just possible he was shoved off,” said the detective. “You boys have plenty of evidence now that certain people will let nothing stand in their way to obtain the Aztec warrior object. One of their big stumbling blocks would be Tatloc.”

  “This gives a pretty grim twist to the case,” Frank commented. He then asked his father what the boys should do next.

  Mr. Hardy took so long to answer the question that Frank thought the connection had been cut off. He finally said, “Hello? Are you there, Dad?”

  “I’m still here,” came the answer. “I was thinking—it just occurred to me that this whole story of Tatloc’s death may have been trumped up.”

  Frank was astounded. “You mean those American tourists are fakes?” he asked.

  “That’s my suspicion—there may not be any tourists from the States with those names. I suggest you check at once with the Mexican Tourist Department. You remember they took up one part of your tourist card when you entered the country. In that way, the department has a record of everyone coming into Mexico.”

  “Great idea, Dad! We’ll do that!”

  Frank repeated the conversation to Joe and Chet, then put in a call to the Tourist Department in Mexico City. The official to whom he talked promised to look up the information and call him back as soon as possible.

  While th
ey were waiting the boys began to speculate: If the story were false, what was the reason behind it?

  “Maybe it’s some kind of scheme the gang planned,” Chet suggested.

  Frank agreed. “Yes, that could be—to force Senor Tatloc to disclose his whereabouts.”

  Joe jumped up from the chair. “Could be this whole story was faked just so we’d give up the case!”

  Again the boys became silent for several minutes. Finally Chet sighed and said, “I wish we’d hear from the Tourist Department. This suspense is killing me!”

  At that moment the phone rang. Joe answered. He listened, then thanked the caller and hung up.

  “That settles it!” he exclaimed. “No American tourists with those names have entered Mexico.”

  “Wow!” Chet cried. “Then the whole story is phony!”

  “This gives me a new idea,” said Frank. “I think we should work on the theory that Tatloc was kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped!” Joe explained. “By whom?”

  “By the Aztec warrior gang!”

  “Sure!” Joe agreed excitedly. “We can try to get a lead on those tourists from the police. Then we can scout the area where Tatloc was supposed to have disappeared.”

  “We’d better report all this to Dad,” Frank suggested.

  Mr. Hardy was waiting for his son’s call. “Good work, boys!” he said. “Let me know if you find out anything about those tourists.”

  “Will do, Dad. By the way, any developments on your end of the Aztec mystery?”

  “Very little,” the detective answered. “We made another exhaustive search of the Moore grounds, however, and came across something of possible significance.”

  “What is it?” Frank queried eagerly.

  His father said that on various trees near the house, he and Sam Radley had found tiny arrows carved into the trunks at ground level. Some of the markings were even hidden by grass. “As yet Sam and I haven’t figured out what they mean. But we’ll keep working at it on this end. Good luck to you boys!”

  Mr. Hardy said good-by and Frank immediately phoned the police. He was told that the story of Tatloc’s fall had come in by phone. Frank relayed to the other boys their newest assignment to trail the kidnapper.