Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Illustration: âAs he jerked it open, an old woman stumbled into the room.â (See page 46)] _THE BOY SCOUT EXPLORERS_ AT TREASURE MOUNTAIN _BY_ DON PALMER _ILLUSTRATED_ CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY _Publishers_ _New York_ Copyright, 1955, by CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY All Rights Reserved _Printed in the United States of America_ CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE 1. An Important Assignment 7 2. Captain Carter 17 3. Path to Adventure 27 4. A Mission 35 5. An Ancient Manuscript 46 6. Earthquake Tremors 53 7. Scout Cargo 61 8. Contraband 68 9. Captain Carterâs Deception 77 10. Fury of a Mob 85 11. Into the Wilderness 92 12. A Mysterious Follower 105 13. A Poisoned Arrow 113 14. Disaster 120 15. Into the Chasm 132 16. Capture 138 17. Hostile Indians 145 18. The Medicine Man 152 19. The Tunnel 162 20. The Hidden City 170 21. Cannibal Fish 176 22. Indian Secrets 181 23. Beneath the Mask 190 24. Captain Carterâs Scheme 203 25. Inca Gold 215 Chapter 1 AN IMPORTANT ASSIGNMENT âWhat do you suppose is delaying Mr. Livingston? He should have been here half an hour ago.â Uneasily, Jack Hartwell glanced at his wristwatch and then toward the entranceway of the Savoy Hotel terrace dining room. There was no sign of the Scout leader. George (Happy) Livingston, advisor to Explorer Post 21, had invited the four Scouts to meet him promptly at 7:30 p.m. for dinner at the hotel. Now it was pushing eight oâclock, and heâd neither shown up nor sent word. Three times a waiter had pointedly asked the Scouts if they cared to order. It was getting harder to stall. âMaybe Mr. Livingston forgot he invited us.â This remark came from Willie Medaugh, a tow-headed fifteen-year-old with broad, powerful shoulders. He was assistant crew leader, and wore the green Explorersâ uniform. The others, Jack of the twinkling blue eyes, serious Ken Dougherty and Warwick Washburn, were fellow members of the Rover Crew, Post 21. âWar,â a lean, freckled youngster with great enthusiasm and a peppery temper, was the newest recruit, a willing if untried member of the tough, efficient little band. âMr. Livingston never would have forgotten his appointment with us,â Ken Dougherty said in answer to Willieâs remark. âNot Hap!â âNo, you can bet something important held him up,â agreed Jack. âHeâll be along, or send word.â Quiet-spoken, the crew leader had an easy, assured manner which inspired confidence. Next term he would be a senior at Belton High School. He was an outstanding athlete, hard of muscle and ever ready for adventure. âHey, Jackâs right!â Willie suddenly warbled. âHere comes Mr. Livingston now!â A powerfully built man of thirty-eight strode across the dining room to the table by the garden railing. Before becoming a Scout leader, he had spent ten years in FBI work. âSorry to be late, fellows,â he apologized, seating himself beside Ken. After ordering for the group, he explained that an important conference had delayed him. âYou wonder why I invited you here tonight?â he remarked, a twinkle in his eyes. âIs it about our trip to Minnesota?â Jack inquired. âYes, Jack. Iâm afraid itâs off for this year.â As the news sank in, every face mirrored disappointment. For months, the Explorers had planned a canoe trip to the Minnesota lakes. And now it was off! âItâs like this,â Mr. Livingston explained. âI have a chance to head an expedition to Peru. It looks pretty good and I hate to pass it up.â If a rocket had exploded in their midst, the four Rovers could not have been more astonished. âPeru?â echoed Willie. âWay off in South America!â âRight. In many sections, the country still is wild and unexplored. I hate to give up our canoeing trip, but this may be the chance of a lifetime.â âI donât blame you,â Jack replied politely. âPeru, gosh!â âYouâll go by boat?â inquired Ken. âNo, by plane. Our expedition supplies will be sent ahead by freighter. A man named Captain Carter will look after that detail. Heâs to meet me here later tonight to discuss the plans.â âWhoâll go with you?â asked War. âWhen do you leave? And whatâs the purpose of the trip?â âOne question at a time. First of all, I expect to take all the Rovers.â War dropped his fork. The other Scouts were jolted into rapt attention. âYouâre inviting us all to go to Peru?â Jack demanded in disbelief. âThatâs right.â âBut the Rovers havenât much folding money.â âAll expenses will be paid.â âSay, thatâs great!â Jack exclaimed. âBut itâs fantastic! Who is the easy-mark willing to pay for this pleasure jaunt?â âI didnât say the expedition would be a pleasure trip,â Mr. Livingston warned. âThe mission will be a tough oneâharder than anything we ever attempted before. Mr. Monahan, our backer, is a level-headed business man. Heâll expect results.â By this time, the waiter had brought chicken and steaks, but the four Rovers were too excited to do full justice to the appetizing food set before them. They fairly bombarded Mr. Livingston with questions. âHereâs the meat of it,â he said. âFor many yearsâtwelve to be exactâMr. Monahanâs brother, Burton, lived in Peru. Recently, through a meeting with a missionary in a little coastal village, he learned of an unexplored ancient Inca temple where great treasure had supposedly been hidden at the time Spaniards conquered the country.â âWerenât the Incas an Indian race?â Willie inquired. âCorrect. They excelled at road building, stone work and in the arts. When the Spaniards looted the country about 400 years ago, the Incas saved some of their vast treasure by dumping it into lakes or burying it in caves.â âWeâre going to Peru to search for lost treasure?â demanded War excitedly. Mr. Livingston shook his head. âNo, the lost treasure concerns us only as it may account for Burton Monahanâs strange disappearance.â âTell us more,â urged Jack. âBurton Monahan learned of the lost Inca temple through a parchment which an old Peruvian missionary translated for him.â âA parchment?â echoed Willie thoughtfully. âOne of those animal skin things the old timers wrote on?â âRight. It was a curious document, written by a Portuguese explorer in the early eighteenth century.â âWhat became of the parchment?â Ken demanded. âWho has it now?â âWhy, I have,â Mr. Livingston replied in an offhand manner. âAccurately speaking, itâs a rough translation. Iâll show it to you in a minute. First, let me tell you more about the expedition.â As the Scouts listened attentively, he explained that the parchment translation had been given to him only a few minutes earlier by Albert Monahan, brother of the missing explorer. âBurton Monahan sent the copy to his brother more than a year ago, hoping to get him to finance a treasure search,â Mr. Livingston related. âAlbert Monahan considered the tale about hidden gold pure fantasy. He refused the request. Burton undertook the search alone and poorly equipped. He vanished. That was fully six months ago.â âNo one ever heard of him again?â questioned Ken. âA few half-hearted search parties were organized, but little came of them. Captain Carter, who was the last white man to see Burton after he started into the wilds, seems to have a few clues as to the route the missing man took. Heâs persuaded Mr. Monahan to finance an expedition to learn whether or not Burton still is alive.â âSo we owe the trip to Captain Carter?â commented Jack. âQuite the contrary. Captain Carter expected to control the expedition. He didnât much like the idea of having me put in charge.â âThen how did we get accepted?â Jack asked, puzzled. âMr. Monahan doesnât entirely trust Captain Carter, I suspect. At any rate, in financing the trip, he specified that I was to be in charge. I insisted upon having you fellows along. Iâve already cleared with your parents, so if youâre game to tackle a really tough proposition, the expedition is set.â âPeru, here I come!â Warwick chortled. âJust lead me to the Inca treasure!â added Willie, his eyes sparkling. âItâs quite a responsibility,â said Jack soberly. âI hope weâll be equal to it.â âYou will be. I have full confidence in every member of our little team, and told Mr. Monahan so.â âThe parchment translation should be helpful in tracing Burtonâs route,â Ken remarked thoughtfully. âYou were going to show it to us, Mr. Livingston.â The Scout leader nodded and laid several sheets of folded yellow paper upon the table. He picked one at random, and after studying the fine writing, read aloud: ââOne afternoon we had drawn near unto the blue mountains, and were struck by their strangely jagged peaksâa wild sierra, whose walls gleamed with quartz crystals, betokening the presence of gold. ââThat evening we stood entranced at the glory of the sunset falling on the jeweled rocks, touching them into splendor until cascades of fire seemed to spring from rock to rock. It was a country of strange and unearthly beauty, but over all there seemed to brood a spirit of mystery, an omen of fear.ââ As if to whet their curiosity, Mr. Livingston deliberately broke off. Forgetting the manuscript for a moment, he next brought forth from his pocket a bit of multi-colored rope. The cord was tied at intervals with tiny knots. âNow this,â he explained, âis an ancient Inca _quipu_ or book.â âThose knots were used by the Incas to record figures, werenât they?â Ken recalled from his reading. âYes, Ken, for our purpose it has no practical value. The parchment translation however, might lead us to Burton Monahan. Particularly if we can find the old missionary who gave it to him originally.â âRead some more,â urged Jack. âThat stuff about âa spirit of mysteryâ sort of intrigues me.â Before Mr. Livingston could pick up the manuscript a waiter approached to say that he was wanted on the telephone. âIt may be Mr. Monahan calling,â the Scout leader said, getting up quickly. âExcuse me, fellows. Iâll be right back. Meanwhile, see what you can make of the writing.â After Mr. Livingston had gone, the four Explorers pored over the translation. They were still trying to puzzle out the difficult writing when the waiter reappeared to tell them that they too were wanted in the lobby. âMust be Mr. Livingston,â said Jack. âBut why does he send for us, instead of coming back?â âGo and see,â War advised with a shrug. âIâll wait here.â The other three went quickly to the hotel lobby. Mr. Livingston was not there, nor did they find him in the telephone booth. After trying vainly to learn who had summoned them, they started back to the terrace dining room. âWhereâs War?â Ken demanded, noticing that their table was now deserted. Just at that moment, they caught a glimpse of the freckle-faced boy, coming from the opposite direction. âI was looking for you,â War greeted them cheerfully. âTook you an awful long timeâsay, why that dead-pan look, Jack? Whatâs wrong?â âThe parchment! You didnât go off and leave it lying unguarded on the table?â âWhy, just for a minute,â War admitted, looking scared. âBut no one would touch it. Take it easy, Jack! I can see that bundle of colored cord still there.â Without replying, Jack went quickly to the deserted table. True, the _quipu_ lay on the tablecloth beside Kenâs half-empty water glass. But the parchment translation was nowhere visible. Could a breeze have blown the manuscript to the floor? Jack was convinced otherwise, but to make certain he searched under the table and along the terrace railing. âWar,â he said, keeping his voice low, âyouâre sure you didnât take those papers with you?â Miserably, the boy shook his head. âI left âem lying right here on the table. They canât be gone!â âBut they are,â Jack said, his voice grim with worry. âThat call to the lobby was a trick by someone to get us away from this table. Mr. Livingston trusted that translation to us, and now itâs been stolen!â Chapter 2 CAPTAIN CARTER âA fine Scout I prove to be!â Warwick berated himself. âWhy, Iâve messed up the expedition to Peru! Without that translation, there may be no trip.â The other three Rovers knew that War might be right about the expedition. However, careless as he had been in leaving the manuscript unguarded, they did not blame him. âIt wasnât your fault,â Ken said, to make him feel better. âWe all fell for that telephone gag.â âWhoever took that translation canât be far from here,â Warwick muttered. âWhy, I wasnât away from this table five minutes, if that long.â As the four Explorers searched the terrace floor, a waiter came over to inquire if anything had been lost. Jack told him about the missing papers and asked if anyone had visited the table during their absence. The waiter recalled that a man had stopped there for a moment and then had left the terrace. âCan you describe him?â Willie asked eagerly. âHe was heavy set, deeply tanned. Why, there he is nowâleaving the hotel grounds.â The waiter indicated the retreating figure of a stockily built man, dimly outlined against the dark shrubbery. The stranger moved swiftly, away from the terrace. âHeâs the one who snatched the parchment!â War exclaimed with instant conviction. âLetâs nail him!â To the dismay of the waiter, the four Explorers leaped nimbly over the terrace railing onto the lawn below. By this time the man they pursued was midway across the hotel grounds. Unaware that anyone followed, he paused beside a tall evergreen and bent over as if to place something at its base. Now that the stranger was beyond the reflection of the terrace lights, the Scouts could not discern his movements clearly. âHeâs pitching that manuscript!â Warwick whispered. âLetâs grab him quick!â âWe can circle in from behind,â Ken advised. âBe quiet and careful.â âWe might be making a mistake,â Jack advised uneasily, but the others did not heed. Moving softly through the darkness, they suddenly surrounded the stranger. War grabbed him firmly by the arm. âWe got you, mister!â he asserted. âHand over that manuscript!â The man pulled angrily away. He was powerfully built, with a close-cropped head of chestnut colored hair. Ken and Willie moved in close, cutting off all possible escape. âManuscript!â the stranger exclaimed. âWhat are you blubbering about anyhow? Whatâs the big idea?â âYou know well enough!â War accused. âYou took that translation from our hotel table just now!â âSay, are you kids crazy?â âWe want those papers,â War insisted. âHand âem over!â âYou little hoodlum, you!â the man snarled. âIf you donât stop pawing in my pants pocket, Iâll sock you! Iâve had enough of this!â âMaybe you can explain what you were hiding by this evergreen,â Willie suggested pointedly. âWell, jar my rigging! You kids have got bats in the belfry! I was looking for my wristwatch.â âYour wristwatch!â War said scornfully, âThatâs good!â âThe strap unfastened and it slipped off. Itâs here somewhere.â Taking no part in the conversation, Jack had devoted himself to inspecting the ground beneath the evergreen. âIs this your watch, sir?â he inquired, holding up the shiny object. âIt is! I hope you realize now that youâve made a blasted mistake.â âButâI was sureââ Warwick stammered, completely deflated. âThe waiter said he saw you at our table on the terrace. Maybe youâll explain what you were doing there.â âI went to the terrace to see a guy named George Livingston. They told me that was his table. No one there. Only empty dishes. So I left.â âYou were to see Mr. Livingston?â Jack repeated. âThen you must beââ âCaptain Carter. Captain Edmund Carter, skipper of the _Shark_.â âJumping hop toads!â War muttered. âIâI guess Iâve made another bad mistake.â The captainâs laugh was unpleasant. âI should complain to the police,â he said. âBut forget it. No use getting oneâs wind up over trifles.â âThatâs very decent of you,â Jack replied. âWe apologize, Captain Carter.â âIt was an unfortunate mistake,â added Ken. âHappyâMr. Livingston had shown us the parchment translation. We left it on the table when we were called away, and it disappeared.â âSo you tag me?â âIt was a mistake,â Jack said patiently. âBy the way, when you stopped at our table, did you see the manuscript?â âOh, so now you want to put me through the third degree! Itâs not enough that you grab me from behind and maul me?â âWeâre only trying to learn what became of a very valuable property,â Jack answered, carefully holding his temper in check. âSon, I didnât see your papers or whatever it was you lost. Get that straight?â âYes, sir.â âOkay, thatâs settled. Now do you know where Iâll find this character, Livingston?â Jack resented the captainâs manner of referring to the Scout leader. He answered briefly. âHeâs at the hotel.â âCan you take me to him?â âI guess so.â âThen cast off,â Captain Carter ordered. âWeâll forget that you tried to manhandle me. Lucky for you I got a milk-and-honey disposition.â Unconcerned by the Scoutsâ loss of the manuscript, the seaman strode down the path toward the hotel. In the darkness, he could not see the faces of the four Rovers which all too plainly mirrored their private thoughts as to the captainâs âmilk-and-honeyâ temperament. At the hotel once more, the boys could not find Mr. Livingston in the lobby. Somewhat puzzled by his prolonged absence, they returned to their original table with the captain. As he studied the menu, the Explorers were able to examine his ruddy, unfriendly face. A jagged scar marred his left cheek. As for his dark eyes, they had a quick trick of shifting, and never seemed to return a steady, even gaze. Willie, trying hard to make conversation, said: âYou must know a lot about Peru, Captain Carter.â âIâm wonderingââ Jack began, and broke off. âHave you been there often?â âToo often.â âIt must be an interesting country.â âLousy,â the captain growled. âThree areasâcoastal, the sierra region and the heavily forested slopes that lead to the Amazonian plains. Rain, heat, freezing cold. Lima, the capital, ainât so bad. They ought to chuck the rest of the country into the Pacific.â âOh, it canât be that bad,â Ken protested. âI hope not, because weâre going there with Mr. Livingston.â Captain Carter laid aside his menu and stared directly at Ken. In that unguarded moment, concern and hostility were reflected in his lined face. âYou mean I got to nursemaid a bunch of kids?â he demanded. âThatâs an unflattering way of putting it,â Ken replied. âWeâve never been to Peru, but weâre not softies.â âIâll vouch for that,â said a voice directly behind the captain. Unnoticed, Mr. Livingston had crossed the terrace to the table. âOh, here you are!â exclaimed Jack in relief. âWe couldnât find you anywhere, Mr. Livingston.â âI see youâre in good company,â replied the Scout leader, shaking hands with Captain Carter. âSorry to have been held up. Anything wrong?â âPlenty,â Warwick answered. Without mentioning the unfortunate episode with Captain Carter, he told of the manuscriptâs disappearance. The loss plainly startled the Scout leader. Nevertheless, he said very little and did not blame Warwick. âDonât worry about it,â he advised the Scouts. âIâm mighty sorry to lose the translation, but if weâre lucky enough to find that old missionary who made it, we should be able to duplicate the information.â As Captain Carter ate his dinner, the Scouts listened attentively to his talk with Mr. Livingston. The seaman ignored them entirely as he discussed details of the proposed trip. âAccording to the arrangement, Iâll be off for Peru next week,â he growled. âSee to it that all your heavy supplies are at the dock ready for loading on the _Shark_ by noon of the sixth.â âEverything will be there,â Mr. Livingston promised. âWeâll follow next month by plane and meet your boat at the coastal port of Cuertos. Right?â âRight,â the captain scowled. âIâm warning you though, this is no expedition for a bunch oâ kids.â âThe Explorers are well seasoned,â Mr. Livingston returned. âTheyâre tough and efficient. I know I can depend on them. Thatâs why I told Mr. Monahan I wouldnât attempt the search for his brother without their help.â âThatâs a laugh! If you run afoul of a tribe of wild Indians, you figure to hold âem at bay with your Scout knives?â âI doubt that would be our way, captain. There are methods of handling a situation that do not involve force.â âYeah? Well, give me my two fists or a round of ammunition!â Captain Carter had finished his dinner. He shoved back his chair. âIâll be going now,â he announced. âMy job is to get your supplies through to Cuertos on time. The _Shark_ will be there. Just donât come cryinâ to me when the going gets rough!â With barely a nod to the four Scouts, the seaman left the terrace. Without comment, Mr. Livingston settled the bill for all the dinners. âPleasant character,â Jack remarked. âTough as an old lanyard knot!â âI wonder where Mr. Monahan found him?â speculated Ken. âCaptain Carter introduced himselfâsold the expedition, so to speak. He knows Peru thoroughly.â âHe certainly took a dislike to us,â Jack commented. âNot that I blame him too much.â War himself related to Mr. Livingston how he had mistaken the captain for a thief. âI sure am sorry I jumped him the way I did,â he said contritely. âI guess Iâm in the doghouse now.â âNo such thing,â the Scout leader smiled. âYou acted a bit impulsively, without thinking through the situation. Next time youâll react more wisely.â âYou still want me to make the trip?â âI certainly do.â âThanks,â War said, his eyes shining. âIâll do my best to prove worthy. Iâm going to try to find out what became of that missing manuscript.â âThatâs a job for all of us,â Jack amended. âWeâre all equally responsible for the loss.â Before leaving the hotel, Mr. Livingston and the Rovers talked to several of the waiters and other diners. No one had seen any person except Captain Carter visit their table. âIâm wonderingââ Jack began, and broke off. âWondering what, Jack?â prompted Mr. Livingston. âWell, maybe my suspicions are unfounded. But it hit me that maybe we made a mistake not to search Captain Carter.â âWe got into enough trouble as it was,â Warwick muttered. âSupposingâjust for speculationâthat Captain Carter knew we were following him and dropped that watch into the shrubbery.â âSo that when we found it weâd assume weâd made a terrible mistake!â Willie exclaimed. âMaybe he had the translation in his pocket all the time!â âWe were chumps not to have searched him,â asserted War. Mr. Livingston smiled. âAn interesting speculation,â he commented. âOff hand though, I canât imagine why Captain Carter would want the translation. For that matter, had he asked to see it, I certainly would have shown it to him. Weâre all supposed to be working together to find Burton Monahan. So a motive for the theft seems to be lacking.â âI guess so,â Jack admitted reluctantly. âBear in mind that weâre saddled with Captain Carter for the duration of the trip.â âAnd itâs poor policy to stir up bad feeling before weâre even on our way.â âExactly, Jack,â the Scout leader agreed. âWe must do our level best to get along with the captain. Heâs not the man of my choice. But if he once gets the idea that weâre unfriendly or watching him, he could cause us a peck of trouble.â Chapter 3 PATH TO ADVENTURE During the next few weeks, the entire Scout organization buzzed with the news that Ken, Jack, Willie and War were to set off on a great adventure. Younger Scouts eyed them enviously. Belatedly, there was a rush by boys over 14 to join the Rovers. Applications readily were accepted, but the newcomers quickly learned that the trip to Peru was a closed expedition except for those who had proven their ability to endure real hardships. As for the fortunate four, they scarcely could believe their own good luck. It seemed a miracle that they had been selected, that all expenses would be paid, and that their parents had given consent. Their enthusiasm boundless, the young Explorers spent hours at the public library, reading about South America. Jack, in particular, studied Spanish grammar, trying out phrases on his friends. According to a carefully worked out plan, Captain Carter was scheduled to sail without delay for Cuertos, an almost unknown dog-hole port on the Peruvian coast. The trip through the Canal would take many weeks, while the Rovers, by clipper, would reach their destination speedily. Captain Carterâs _Shark_ was expected to arrive at Cuertos well ahead of Mr. Livingstonâs party. A meeting date was set for the following month. As preparations rapidly went forward for the sailing, the four Explorers saw little of Captain Carter. Occasionally, they ran into him at Mr. Livingstonâs home, but always he shunned them. Though they tried to be friendly, he would not respond. âHe wonât get over his grudge,â Willie remarked. âA nice way to start a long trip!â âItâs not our fault,â Jack returned. âWeâve done everything we can to make amends. He distrusts us, and between you and me and the gatepost, I feel the same about him!â The Explorers consoled themselves with the thought that once their equipment and stores had been delivered at Cuertos, they would be done with Captain Carter. Few freighters, they were told, ever visited the out-of-the-way port. âDonât underestimate Captain Carter,â Mr. Livingston advised the Rovers. âHe can be very useful to us if we win him over. He knows the ropes and can put us in touch with the right people.â âYouâre not expecting trouble on this trip?â Jack asked quietly. âItâs well to be prepared. Our expedition may end at Cuertos. If we learn that Burton Monahan is dead and can establish it, that terminates our mission. On the other hand, if we discover that he went into the old Inca country, it will be our duty to trace him as far as we can. Thatâs why weâre sending plenty of supplies ahead.â âI sure wish we hadnât lost that translation,â War said gloomily. âForget it,â the Scout leader advised. âItâs gone, and we may as well stop worrying about it.â Equipped with lists Mr. Livingston supplied, the Explorers packed carefully for the trip. Nothing was left to chance. Informed that they might expect extremes of weather in Peru, sweltering heat in the lowlands and frigid temperatures if their journey took them high into the mountains, they chose each item with great care. Mr. Livingston personally inspected all luggage that was to go by boat. Every unnecessary item was discarded. Finally, the last box was labeled and sent to the dock for shipment. On the day of sailing, the Rovers drove to the waterfront to see the _Shark_ on her way. Mr. Livingston, having important duties elsewhere, was unable to accompany the group. The vessel proved to be a small, rather filthy-looking schooner, which regularly carried cargo through the Panama Canal. Bent upon exploring the vessel from stem to stern, the four Rovers started up the gangplank. A sailor stopped them. âSorry,â he said curtly. âNo visitors.â âBut we came to see our stuff loaded,â Willie replied. âCaptain Carter knows us. He wonât object.â âThereâs the Captain now!â cried War, spying the officer on deck. âHi, Captain! May we come aboard?â âWe sail in thirty minutes,â the Captain returned shortly. âYouâd only be in the way.â War would have pressed the matter, but Jack gave him a quick nudge. âLet it slide,â he advised. âNo use getting the Captainâs goat again. Come on, we can watch the loading from shore.â Hiding their annoyance, the Explorers sought a patch of shade in the lee of a large warehouse. Stevedores trundled boxes and barrels of cargo aboard. Captain Carter remained on deck personally supervising the job. The boxes marked for the Scout expedition were raised in a great net and swung down into the hold. The stevedores then moved the overflow up the gangplank. In an ugly temper, Captain Carter berated the men for being slow. One fellow, who carried an especially heavy load, stumbled on the uneven planking. Either by accident or design, he permitted a box to slip from his shoulder into the water. âStupid idiot!â Captain Carter shouted. âBrainless! Canât you watch what youâre doing?â Jack and Ken instantly leaped to their feet. Seizing a grappling hook, they tried to raise the sunken box from the shallow water. âLay off that!â Captain Carter shouted, even more furiously. Startled by the violence of the outburst, Jack gazed up into the enraged face of the Captain. In that instant, he fancied that the surly, pouch-like face mirrored not only anger but fear. What reason might the Captain have for not wanting the Explorers to help retrieve the lost cargo? âKen and I were only trying to help,â he said quietly. âWhen I want your assistance, Iâll tell you so!â the Captain growled. âAboard the _Shark_, Iâm in command. Now get away from the gangplank!â âOkay,â Jack muttered, eyes blazing. Heâd learned in early Scouting days that it nearly always paid to hold oneâs tongue. War, however, could not resist making a muttered comment. âWhat was that?â Captain Carter bellowed at him. âOh, peddle your fish!â War exclaimed. âIâm glad weâre not passengers on your old tub!â âA sentiment shared, young man. When I see you in Peru, it will be soon enough!â âJust be sure you deliver our stuff safely!â War shouted back. âDonât be dumping any more of it!â To break up the useless repartee, the other Explorers pulled War away from the dock. One and all, they smarted under the Captainâs rude treatment. He was being well paid to transport the expedition supplies to Peru. Why then, should he have taken such a dislike to them? âItâs because of that parchment translation incident,â Willie declared as the four stepped back to watch two sailors recover the sunken box. âThe old boy wonât forget or forgive.â Later that afternoon, after the _Shark_ had sailed, Jack and Ken related the unfortunate loading affair to Mr. Livingston. âCaptain Carter is a surly fellow, Iâm afraid,â the Scout leader commented. âFortunately, we wonât run into him again until we hit Peru. And we shouldnât have too close an association after that.â âI sure wish we were leaving tomorrow,â Jack declared with a grin. âHowâll we wait?â âThe days will pass fast enough,â Mr. Livingston assured him. He was right. Almost before the Explorers realized it, the long weeks had slipped by. On the night before the party was scheduled to board the clipper for Peru, the Scout organization held a final meeting. For the four Rovers, the occasion was a solemn, impressive one. Well they knew that weeks, perhaps months, might elapse before they would meet again in formal session. Even so, they had no inkling of the exciting adventures that lay ahead or of the part that Captain Carter was to play in their lives. During the early part of the evening, movie slides were shown on Peru. Jack, as crew leader, thanked the committee for the fine program presented, and then, with regret, announced that it was time to end the meeting by closing the log. A hush fell upon the throng. War arose, and soberly closed the big book in which were recorded minutes of the organization. Never had the simple ceremony been more impressive than on this night. On the table beside Jack was the Explorerâs Emblemâwings, anchor and compassâsymbolic of air, sea and land activities. In front of it were two glowing candles. To the left stood the American flag, and on the right, the unit banner. Jack himself turned to extinguish the candles, symbolic of the ideals lighting the way of all Explorers. âThis emblem is to remind us that we are part of a great organization,â he said soberly. âAn organization made up of thousands of fellows in troop, crew and post everywhere.â Normally, the ceremony would have ended there, but Jack went on. With deep feeling, he added the words of the Scout oath: ââOn my honor, I will do my best To do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; To help other people at all times; To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.ââ The other Explorers joined in, speaking each word with sincerity. All eyes were glued upon Jack, Ken, Willie and Warwick. At that impressive moment, knowing that on the morrow they would be speeding far from America, the four felt their responsibility keenly. Hadnât they been singled out for an important mission? They must try hard to make Mr. Livingston and the other Scouts proud of them! Come what would, they dared not fail or falter. Chapter 4 A MISSION âSix days overdue, and no sign of the _Shark_! What a help Captain Carter proved to be!â Jack delivered the remark as he lay on the steep hillside overlooking Cuertos harbor in Peru. His sentiment was shared by the other Explorers, Willie, Ken and War. Six days of waiting in a desolate coastal town had left the four Rovers decidedly restless and impatient. Behind them now were a thrilling plane journey from the States, exciting days in Lima. But nearly a week had elapsed since they had registered at the little Cuertos Hotel in this sleepy town seldom visited by tourists. To the annoyance of Mr. Livingston and the Scouts, the _Shark_ had not yet made port. What, they wondered, had delayed Captain Carter and their supplies? On this sunny morning, while Mr. Livingston conferred with government officials, Jack and his friends had decided to watch the harbor for a possible glimpse of the long overdue vessel. âMaybe Carter never will show up,â War remarked, tossing a stone into the waves which broke gently on the shore below. âI donât trust him.â âThe _Shark_ may have run into bad storms,â Jack replied. âItâs hard waiting, thoughâespecially when we canât pick up any information about Burton Monahan.â âApparently the only one who knows anything about him is that old missionary who lives on the hill,â Ken said thoughtfully. âAnd he wonât see us.â A week ago, the day of their arrival, the Scouts and Mr. Livingston had called at the crumbling old mission overlooking the sea. Politely but firmly, a servant had informed them that Father Francisco Manoel was ill and would receive no visitors. For five straight days, the answer always had been the same. âItâs an excuse not to see us!â Willie asserted, getting up from the rocks. âFather Francisco just does not want to tell what he knows about Burton Monahan or that old parchment!â âOh, we canât be sure,â Jack drawled. âFather Francisco may be sick. We didnât expect this job to be an easy one. Or did we think Burton Monahan would be sitting conveniently on a rock pile waiting for us?â âIâm getting tired of perching on this one!â War announced. âLetâs move!â âWhere?â âWe might amble into the village again.â âOkay,â Jack agreed. âWeâre not to meet Hap for a couple of hours. Plenty of time.â Slowly, the Rovers climbed a crooked path which twisted up the steep hillside. Midway to the summit they met an old woman with a brilliantly colored parrot perched on her shoulder. â_Buenos dias_,â croaked the bird. âGood day, yourself!â Jack responded. He halted, intending to inspect the saucy parrot. But the bent old native woman glared angrily at him and shuffled hurriedly on. âGuess she didnât like the way I spoke to her pet,â Jack said with a shrug. âOr was she suspicious of our Explorersâ uniforms?â At the top of the hill, the four Scouts paused to breathe deeply of the salt air. Willie snapped several pictures of the old mission, and then he and War wandered on. Left behind, Jack and Ken watched the sea for a while before starting in the direction their companions had taken. In passing the old mission door, Jack impulsively paused to knock. âNo use,â Ken discouraged him. âThereâs never any answer.â But even as he spoke, they heard footsteps. Surprisingly, the massive door swung open and a servant peered out at them. âFather Francisco see you now,â she informed them in broken English. âEnter!â âWell, what dâ you know!â Ken murmured startled. âWe must have pressed the magic button!â The servant motioned for the two Scouts to follow her down a tiled corridor. Eventually, they came to a pleasant half-underground library whose long, wide window provided a view of the ocean. On three sides, the walls were lined with books. Father Francisco sat facing the sea, but he turned slowly as the Scouts entered. He was a small, bent old man in a black dressing robe and sandals. Pillows braced his back. Motioning Ken and Jack into well-worn leather chairs, he said in precise but perfect English: âI regret I have been ill and could not see you when first you called. My arthritis has been most painful. Mr. Livingston did not accompany you?â Jack replied that their leader was in conference with government officials. He and Ken both were uncomfortably aware of the old missionaryâs intent scrutiny. They had an odd feeling that he not only knew everything about them and their party, but could read their innermost thoughts. âHow do you like Peru?â Father Francisco inquired politely. âWe havenât seen very much of it,â Jack confessed. âCuertos though, isnât exactly as we pictured it.â âThe coastal area is very dry,â the missionary said, fingering a long, gold neck chain. âHere at Cuertos we have a good rain at least once a century. Earthquakes, I regret to say, are more frequent.â An awkward silence fell. Father Francisco broke it by inquiring: âYou are Scouts from America?â âExplorers,â Ken said proudly. âI guess you already know why we are here.â Father Francisco eyed the pair quizzically. âYou are searching for Burton Monahan? Or is it the treasure which intrigues you?â âWeâre trying to find Mr. Monahan,â Jack replied earnestly. âOne must be very brave or very foolhardy to venture far into the wilds. A mule-back trip across Peru consumes weeks.â Ken and Jack nodded, remaining silent. âMany of our mountain roads are mere tracks,â Father Francisco continued. âOnly caves or stone huts offer shelter. To venture far one must have a trusted _arriero_ or muleteer to act as guide. A dependable man is not easy to find.â To Jack and Ken it was clear that the missionary deliberately was trying to discourage them. They listened attentively as he mentioned the many dangers that might beset a traveler. When he had finished, Jack said quietly: âWe realize, Father, that our mission wonât be easy. All the same, a few hardships wonât bother us. You knew Burton Monahan?â âVery well. Ah, he was a reckless one! But with the courage of a lion! From the first, the old tale of treasure fascinated him. Yet in fairness, I must say it was not lust for Inca gold that spurred him on, as it does so many adventurers who come to this country. No, it was the lure of the unknown that drew him irresistibly to his fate.â âHis fate?â Ken repeated, startled. âThen you believe that Burton Monahan is dead?â Father Francisco shrugged his thin shoulder. â_Quien sabe?_â he murmured in Spanish. âWho knows? There is one who might provide the answer, if he would. I fear however, that the truth will never pass his lips. Not if it profits him to remain silent.â âWho is this man?â questioned Jack. The missionary did not answer. The Explorers were certain he heard and that deliberately he withheld his reply. âI would assist you if I could,â Father Francisco resumed after a moment. âUnfortunately, I can do nothing.â âTell us everything you know about Mr. Monahanâs disappearance,â Jack urged. âFor many weeks he studied the ancient parchment which I have hereâtaking notes, trying to figure out the route of the Portuguese explorers who so faithfully recounted their discovery of the hidden pre-Inca city. Finally, disregarding all advice, he organized a party and set off into the most desolate section of the mountains. That was many months ago.â âAnd that was the last you ever heard of him?â Ken inquired. âWord filtered back. As the journey became more difficult, his natives began to desert. Finally, even Captain Carter abandoned him.â âCaptain Carter!â exclaimed Jack, startled. âThe skipper of the _Shark_?â âThe same.â âWhy, we didnât know he had a close association with Mr. Monahan,â Ken declared. âCaptain Carter is bringing our equipment here on the _Shark_. In fact, he promoted the expedition.â Father Francisco eyed the two Scouts with a fixed rigid smile. âSo Captain Carter is to be a member of your party?â he asked softly. âMr. MonahanâBurtonâs brotherâthought he could be helpful to us,â Ken explained. âAh, yes, Captain Carter could be of assistance, if he chose,â murmured the old missionary. âI regret to say he is not known in Cuertos for his cooperative qualities. Captain Carterââ Abruptly, the missionary broke off, as if he had been on the verge of making an unintended disclosure. âYou must excuse me now,â he said apologetically. âIt is the hour of my siesta. As for the temple treasure and Burton Monahan, I advise you for your own safety, to banish all thought of an expedition.â Disappointed by the dismissal, Ken turned to leave. Jack, however, was unwilling to be discharged so easily. He sensed that mention of Captain Carterâs name somehow had been unfortunate. Seemingly, Father Francisco had become distrustful of their association with the skipper of the _Shark_. âCaptain Carter was assigned to our expedition by Burton Monahanâs brother,â he informed the missionary. âWe have no liking for him. Right now weâre annoyed because the _Shark_ hasnât made port with our cargo.â âWeâve counted on your help,â Ken added earnestly. âIf we donât get it, the expedition will bog down right here at Cuertos.â âI believe that you are sincere,â the old missionary said after a long silence. âThis much I will tell you. Captain Carter has an ugly reputation among our people.â âBecause of the Monahan affair?â interposed Jack. âThere were whispers that after Monahan left here, he fell in with Carter,â the missionary explained reluctantly. âSome believe that together they came upon the hidden city and that for lust of gold, Carter removed Monahan from the picture.â âBut the captain has claimed to be working to save Monahan!â Jack exclaimed. âI cannot vouch for the truth of the tale. I do know that Captain Carter has unsavory connections, both here and inland. As master of the _Shark_ he has many profitable lines only indirectly connected with the transportation of cargo.â âBut why would Carter ask financial assistance from Burton Monahanâs brother?â Jack asked in perplexity. âIf he did away with Burton, why pretend to be seeking him?â âWho can fathom the depths of a twisted mind?â murmured Father Francisco. âI cannot vouch for the truth of the rumors. Possibly, Captain Carter has been misunderstood and misjudged.â Seeking to gain information, Jack and Ken asked other questions. The missionary politely evaded them. Abruptly changing the subject, he offered to show the Scouts the ancient Portuguese manuscript which long had been in his possession. Painfully pulling himself from the pillows, he hobbled to a walnut cabinet. âI spent many years translating the manuscript which is written in Portuguese,â he informed the Explorers as he unlocked the heavy double doors. âYou are familiar with the history of Peru?â âWeâve read a lot lately,â Jack returned. âEspecially about how the Spanish general Pizarro conquered the country in 1532.â âPeru then was under Inca domination,â the missionary said, warming to his subject. âThe Inca ruler, you know, was regarded as a representative of the Sun God, head of the priesthood and the army. âWhen Pizarro took the country, he forced the Indians to turn over vast amounts of treasure to ransom their king, who had been made a captive. But the Incas were betrayed, for their ruler was put to death. Angered, they dumped much of their gold into lakes and streams or hid it in caves. One such treasure lake, so this ancient manuscript discloses, lies hidden âinside a mountain.â The phrase has been variously interpreted. According to ancient belief, the treasure mountain is visible from here.â âFrom this mission?â Jack asked incredulously. âYes, but as I presently will show you, the clue has little value.â Almost reverently, Father Francisco spread the parchment on a table before the Scouts. Eagerly, they peered at the fine-grained skin which had been scraped and rubbed with pumice to permit writing on either side. âImagine being able to read that!â Ken said in awe. âThe manuscript begins thus,â the missionary translated. ââWe wandered ten years in the wilds, seeking gold. Little did we find until in the yearâââ Abruptly, Father Francisco broke off, his attention diverted toward the door of the library. The Scouts had heard no unusual sound, but the missionary seemed disturbed. âSomeone, I believe, loiters in the passageway!â he whispered. âBe quick! See who it is that listens by the door!â Chapter 5 AN ANCIENT MANUSCRIPT Following Father Franciscoâs direction, Jack darted swiftly to the library door. As he jerked it open, an old woman with a parrot on her shoulder, stumbled forward into the room. Obviously, she had been listening at the keyhole. Jack recognized her at once as the same unfriendly native he and Ken had met earlier on the path. In a torrent of Spanish, the woman apologized to Father Francisco. He scolded her soundly for her behavior and bade her be gone. Still chattering, the woman backed out of the room and vanished into the corridor. âDo you suppose she followed us here?â Ken speculated. âOur presence in the village seems to be stirring plenty of excitement.â âLolita has ears like a sponge,â said Father Francisco. âShe is a friend of Captain Carterâs. One of his few supporters in the village.â Forgetting the parrot woman, the Scouts once more examined the ancient Portuguese manuscript. At their request, Father Francisco read aloud a passage in which the Portuguese adventurers described their first glimpse of the treasure area. ââOur native Indians said it was a country whose Gods did not wish it to be known,ââ he recited, ââand that they would visit wrath and terror upon all intruders.ââ Skipping through the manuscript, the missionary read several beautiful passages, including one in which the writer told of making camp near the treasure mountain. ââDarkness made terrifying the unearthly landscape of chasm, precipice and gorge,ââ Father Francisco quoted. ââAt dawn, the sun lit up frightful precipices which none could scale, and in the bush-strewn and craggy path we took at the foot of these weird mountains, we had to step warily because of lurking rattlesnakes. Had we been bitten, of antidote there was none.ââ Glancing up from his reading, the missionary smiled at the two Scouts. âThere is more, much more. This, however, gives you a faint idea of what you might expect to encounter should you decide to try to follow the route taken by Burton Monahan.â âDoes the manuscript give directions for reaching the hidden city?â Ken asked, undaunted. âIn a vague way. My thought is that the Portuguese deliberately gave incorrect information so that others could not find the treasure.â âWhy didnât they go back themselves?â questioned Jack. âAccording to legend, the few men who survived the expedition, did attempt to return many years later, but could not retrace their way. Many men since have tried and failed.â âIâd like to read every word of the manuscript!â Ken declared. âIf you linger awhile in Cuertos, I gladly will translate it for you,â offered the missionary. âThe tale is most absorbing. The Portuguese adventurer relates that the secret entrance to the city was discovered by an Indian. While gathering wood for the camp, he suddenly saw a cleft by means of which the rocks could be scaled.â âDo you believe that the ancient Inca city exists?â Jack asked. Father Francisco hesitated and then answered: âThere is considerable evidence that this manuscript was based on fact. The city herein described might be such a one as Cuzco, the ancient capital of the Incas. The Portugueseâs account of ruins tallies in all respects with those which have come to light in recent years.â âStrange that the city never has been spotted from the air,â remarked Ken thoughtfully. âPlanes seldom fly in that area. In any case, the ruins would be well-hidden by centuries of vegetation.â âYou doubt though, that Burton Monahan reached his objective?â Ken persisted. âIf he did, he either lost his life or is
{'title': 'The Boy Scout Explorers at Treasure Mountain by Don Palmer', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}