THE JUNGLE PYRAMID

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GOLD bullionâa million dollars worth-has been stolen from the Wakefield Mint under strange circumstances. Mr. Hardy is asked to investigate but before long his life is threatened, and he asks Frank and Joe to help him.

The boys fly to Zurich, Switzerland, hoping to get information at the Swiss Gold Syndicate and to find the man who has stolen a valuable ancient gold figurine from a New York museum. Their search on both counts seems futile. They return to the United States, where they uncover new clues that take them to Mexico and a breathtaking adventure at an archaeological dig in the YucatÃ¡n jungle.

But the Hardys travels lead to nothing but new doubts and nagging suspicions. And now their lives are in danger. Their adversaries are cunning, elusive, and determined to eliminate Mr. Hardy, and the boys too!

Events culminate in a surprising revelation when their enemies are finally outsmarted by the Hardys.

âHelp-me!â Joe yelled.

Copyright Â© 1977 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.

Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset
Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
THE HARDY BOYSÂ® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

eISBN : 978-1-101-07665-1

http://us.penguingroup.com

CHAPTER I

Gold Heist

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FRANK Hardy turned the controls of a stereo set. âIâll see if I can find some country music, Joe,â he said to his brother. âWaiting for Dad to phone about a new mystery gives me the jitters.â

âSame here,â said Joe. âI wonder why he didnât tell us anything about the case heâs on.â

âIt must be top secret.â

The Hardy boys were sons of Fenton Hardy, a private detective who worked out of Bayport since retiring from the New York Police Department. Dark-haired Frank was eighteen. Joe was blond and a year younger. Their father had taught them most of what he knew about crime detection, and they sometimes helped him with his investigations but often took cases of their own.

A Kentucky hoedown came over the stereo, and a nasal voice sang the âBlue Grass Blues.â

Joe was lying on the floor, his hands cupped behind his head. âItâs just as well that Mother and Aunt Gertrude are out shopping.â He chuckled. âThis isnât their beat.â

The country-western rhythm rose to a crescendo, then died away. Suddenly footsteps pounded on the front porch of the Hardy home. The door burst open and a plump, freckle-faced youth rushed into the room, clutching a rolled-up paper in one hand. He was Chet Morton, the Hardysâ best friend.

âI got it!â he cried. âI got it!â

âGot what, Chet?â Joe demanded.

âMy correspondence-course diploma!â

Joe turned off the stereo. âA real one? Well, congratulations.â

âWhatâs this diploma for?â Frank asked.

âCollecting more bottle tops than anyone else?â Joe needled their visitor, who always became involved with one hobby after another.

Chet looked pained. âThatâs kid stuff. I thought you guys were detectives.â

âGive us a clue,â Joe suggested.

Chet did not reply. Instead he unrolled the paper and held it up for them to see. The words STATE CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL were blazoned across the top. The diploma certified that Chester Morton was considered adept in gold artifacts, and it was signed by the president of the school.

Chet grinned. âAdept means Iâm pretty good with the gold. Go ahead. Ask me questions. Want to know about Aztec masks orââ

The phone shrilled before he could finish his sentence. Frank seized the instrument and canted it away from his ear so the other two could hear. Fenton Hardy was calling.

âFrank, Joe,â he said hurriedly, âare you both there?â

âYes, Dad,â Frank answered. âWhere are you?â

âIâm in Wakefield. Thatâs a hundred miles from Bayport on the way to New York City. A consignment of gold has been stolen from the mint here. The case is too big for one detective, and I need your help. Come to the Archway Motel. Tell Mother and Aunt Gertrude where youâll be, but donât say thereâs any danger involved. Make it fast! Ah-ah-aaaââ

Mr. Hardy groaned and ended his sentence in a gasp. Then the boys heard a scuffling noise.

âDad!â Frank shouted. âDad, whatâs going on?â Something hit the floor with a heavy thump, and there was a dragging sound. A door slammed in the background. Then silence. The three boys stared at one another in dismay.

âWhatâ?â Chet began.

âShâsh!â Frank said and motioned to the phone.

Footsteps could be heard approaching. Someone breathing heavily picked up the receiver.

âHello!â Frank said. âHello?â

The phone clicked, and the line went dead.

âThat wasnât Dad who hung up!â Frank exclaimed. âSomethingâs wrong!â

âThatâs for sure,â Joe said grimly.

âTry the motel desk,â Chet suggested.

Frank dialed the Archway Motel and asked for Fenton Hardyâs room. A moment later the clerk reported that there was no answer. Frank asked to speak to the manager. He introduced himself, then explained to the man that he had heard strange noises coming from his fatherâs room.

âIt sounded as if he were being attacked,â Frank concluded.

âAttacked!â the manager exploded. âIâll check immediately and will call you back.â

Frank hung up. âWhat do you make of it?â he asked his brother.

âSomebody must have sneaked up on Dad while he was talking on the phone,â Joe said. âSomeone he hadnât counted on.â

âProbably more than one person,â Chet added. âHe could have taken care of himself otherwise.â

âNot if he were hit by surprise,â Joe argued.

The phone shrilled again. Frank picked it up.

âMr. Hardyâs room is empty,â the motel manager said. âIâve also had him paged, but he doesnât answer.â

âAnything wrong in the room?â Frank asked.

âNoâexcept that the bedspread was half pulled off and some clothes were lying on the floor. When I see your father, Iâll tell him you called. Iâll also notify the police just in case your suspicions are correct.â The manager hung up, and so did Frank.

âDad must have been dragged from the room,â the young detective theorized. âThat could account for the bedspread. Weâd better do something fast!â

âWeâll have to go to Wakefield right away!â Joe said.

âHow about my going along?â Chet put in. âI know all about gold. Maybe I can identify the loot.â Then he added, âAs long as itâs not too dangerous to handle.â

The Hardys were used to Chetâs shying away from danger, but they knew they could rely on him when the sleuthing became rough. He had been helpful in many of their investigations.

âOkay, Chet,â Joe said. âCall home and weâll be off.â

âLeave your jalopy in our garage,â Frank suggested. âBetter get some clean clothes out of it.â

Chet and the Hardys always carried extra clothes in their cars in case of an emergency.

Frank quickly scribbled a note telling his mother and Aunt Gertrude that they were on the way to Wakefield to join Mr. Hardy. He added that there was nothing to worry about. âNot much!â he thought to himself. âJust whether Dadâs dead or alive!â

Joe backed the car out of the garage and soon the three boys were rolling down Main Street. Joe fretted at the wheel because traffic was heavy, but finally they got out of the city. He stepped on the gas and they roared toward Wakefield.

Mile after mile zipped away beneath their wheels. They passed farmhouses and pastures. At one spot chickens, out of their coops, fled squawking as the car rocketed by them.

Chet remarked, âIf you should run over any of our feathered friends, stop so I can pick some up. Chicken soup is a great dish. I havenât had anything since breakfast but a couple of hamburgers and a bottle of soda.â

Food always interested Chet, even in the middle of an investigation. The Hardys usually laughed at his remarks, but this time they said nothing.

âOkay,â Chet said, âI get the message. I was just testing. Trying to cheer you up.â

âI could use some cheering,â Frank admitted. âDo you think Dadâs been kidnapped, Joe?â

âIâm afraid so,â his brother replied glumly. âProbably by the crooks who were responsible for the gold heist.â

âDonât jump to conclusions,â Chet advised. âAnyway, your father has always managed to get out of tight spots because heâs the smartest detective we know. Right?â

âRight,â said Frank and Joe in unison.

âLetâs talk about something else,â Chet said.

âLike what?â Joe inquired.

âLike gold!â Chet answered. âDo you know the melting point of gold?â

Joe grinned. âOver a thousand degrees centigrade.â

Chet looked crestfallen. âOh, so you know that. Well, what can you dissolve gold with?â

âA mixture of hydrochloric and nitric acid.â

âYou Hardys know everything,â Chet complained.

Frank decided to soothe their friendâs feelings. âNot as much as you do, Chet. Itâs just that we ran some lab tests on gold for one of our clients.â

The Hardys had a criminology laboratory over their garage, where they did scientific analyses for their clients. They matched fingerprints under the microscope and carried out chemical tests of poisons, explosives, and other materials from the scene of a crime.

While the boys were talking, they approached a hill with a stone wall on the right. Joe drove up as fast as he could within the speed limit. Suddenly a large station wagon hurtled over the crest of the hill. The driver, a burly man, was hunched over the wheel. He was on the wrong side of the road and raced directly at their car!

âWatch it, Joe!â Frank shouted.

Because of the wall, Joe could not move any farther to the right. With split-second timing, he swerved to the left. The station wagon swept past on the right. The Hardysâ car skidded out of control for a moment, but Joe pulled it back into the correct lane and went on.

âLucky you kept your cool,â Frank complimented his brother. âThere wasnât enough room for a dime between that station wagon and us.â

âYou can say that again,â Chet remarked. âThat knucklehead shouldnât be allowed to drive a kiddie car.â

The three settled back for the rest of their trip to Wakefield, and Chet continued his lecture on gold. He described how prehistoric people used the yellow metal for jewelry, such as rings and bracelets, and later for money. He added that currently most of the gold was obtained from the deep mines in South Africa.

âThe Russians,â Chet revealed, âmine gold in Siberia and sell it on the international market. Headquarters for the gold exchange is Zurich, Switzerland.â

âPerhaps the stolen Wakefield gold came originally from Siberia,â Joe reasoned. âBut who knows whether or not weâll ever see it.â

âTalking about gold,â Chet informed them, âthereâs an exhibition at the Early Art Museum in New York. Old Scythian artifacts. I hear itâs fabulous.â

âSounds interesting,â Joe said. âMaybe we can go there after we find Dad.â

He turned left to get off the highway at the Wakefield exit, and ten minutes later drew into the Archway Motel parking lot. The boys went inside, where a teen-age youth stood at the registration desk.

âAny message from Fenton Hardy?â Joe asked him.

âWatch it, Joe!â Frank shouted.

âNo. But I have one for Frank and Joe Hardy. Is that you?â

âYes,â Frank replied.

âSomebody called,â the clerk stated. âDidnât give his name. Just said for Frank and Joe Hardy to come to the Stacy Hotel.â

âHow do we get there?â Frank asked.

âGo left to the end of the road, make a right, then another right at the second traffic light. Itâs a flea-bitten rattrap in a rough neighborhood. Watch your step.â

âWill do,â Frank said. âAnd thanks for the tip.â

The drive to the Stacy took the boys into an area of run-down houses and dismal streets. Local toughs sauntered by, glowering at them.

âI hope we donât run into street gangs,â Chet remarked. âA guy could be mugged in this end of town without half trying.â

Joe parked in front of the Stacy. The boys climbed out and stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at the grimy exterior of the hotel. A bewhiskered tramp strolled up the street toward them. He was dressed in old clothes, battered shoes, and a slouch hat. They stepped aside to let him pass.

Abreast of them, the tramp suddenly turned and deliberately bumped into Joe. âFollow me,â he snarled, âif you know whatâs good for you!â

CHAPTER II

The Subterranean Vault

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Reacting instinctively, Frank and Joe grabbed the trampâs arms to keep him from pulling a knife or a gun. Chet waved a fist under the manâs nose.

âFellows, hold it!â said a familiar voice. âIâll go quietly.â

The tramp was Fenton Hardy! As the boys showed their surprise, he whispered, âDonât give me away. Play my game.â

âOkay,â Frank replied. âBut weâre glad to see you.â Aloud he said, âAll right, Harry, weâll buy your dinner.â

He led the way into the hotel, where they sat down at a table in a secluded corner of the dining room. The other customers looked seedy, and the waitress chewed gum loudly as she took their order. When the food arrived, Chet seized his knife and fork and began to eat with gusto.

âI was in my room,â Mr. Hardy said in a low tone, âwhen a couple of men came inââ

He broke off as he noticed that the waitress was still standing near their table, flipping through her order pad. Then he said loudly, âA couple of men came in and asked me if I wanted to buy an encyclopedia.â

The waitress went to another table to present the check. Mr. Hardy resumed his story. âThey jumped me while I was talking to you on the phone, and slipped a cloth saturated with chloroform over my face.â

Frank nodded. âWe heard a thud and figured somebody was dragging you out of the room.â

âRight. When I came to, I was in an old abandoned garage. Iââ Mr. Hardy suddenly changed the subject and talked about finding a job at the Wakefield lumber company, since the waitress again stood within earshot. After she had left, he continued, âThat girl seems rather nosey. Well, anyway, I picked the lock, got out, went to my car, and put on this disguise. Then I called the Archway Motel from a pay phone and left the message about meeting me at the Stacy.â

âWhatâs it all about?â Frank asked.

âThe Wakefield Mint has been robbed of a big consignment of gold bars. The haul is worth over a million dollars!â

Joe whistled. âThatâs a big deal!â

Mr. Hardy agreed. âIâve been hired by John Armstrong, the administrative assistant to the director of the mint. He asked me to keep this secret. Thatâs why I couldnât tell you what the investigation was about. Then I received a threatening phone call warning me to get off the case. At that point, I decided Iâd better send you an SOS.â

âGood thing you did,â Frank said.

Mr. Hardy went on, âIncidentally, Chet, Iâm glad you came along. That fist you waved under my nose seems like a mighty lethal weapon.â

Chet tried to grin, but was not very successful since his mouth was full of baked potato.

âGot any leads, Dad?â Joe asked.

Fenton Hardy shook his head. âNot really. I assume the pair who chloroformed me belong to the gang that stole the gold. Beyond that, nothing.â

Frank and Joe ruminated over their fatherâs experience as they finished the meal. Chet downed his last mouthful of apple pie. As the waitress was adding up the tab, Frank handed his father a ten dollar bill.

âThere, Harry, that should help you out for a while,â he said.

âThanks, my boy,â Mr. Hardy replied, speaking in the whine of a tramp down on his luck.

Leaving the hotel, he whispered to Frank, âStay at the Shadyside Motel down the street tonight. Meet me at my car at nine in the morning. Itâs parked in a private garage at ten Pine Street. The people who own it are away, so Iâm using it as my dressing room. I can change my disguises there without being seen.â

The elder Hardy slouched away into the darkness, and the boys drove to the Shadyside Motel, where they spent the night. In the morning they met Mr. Hardy as arranged. The detective no longer looked like a tramp. He had stashed the old clothes and the fake whiskers in the trunk of his car and resumed his usual appearance.

âMr. Hardy, you sure fooled me last night,â Chet said.

âThat was the idea,â the sleuth told him. âIf my disguises didnât fool everybody, Iâd be in big trouble. Boys, suppose we take your car.â

Frank got behind the wheel. âWhere to?â

âThe Wakefield Mint.â

The mint was a square three-story building. Faced with white stone, it had rows of narrow windows along the second story. The ground floor was sheathed in stone and steeL

The foyer inside contained a collection of coins and medals produced by the mint. A crowd milled around the main exhibit, a medal representing John Smith at Jamestown.

Fenton Hardy showed his pass to a guard, who escorted him and the boys down a corridor, through a door lined with steel bars, to the office of the administrative assistant.

John Armstrong was a friendly looking man who wore horn-rimmed glasses. He got up from the swivel chair behind his big desk and shook hands with Mr. Hardy, then with each boy, as he was introduced.

âTheyâve helped me on previous cases,â the investigator explained, âand Iâll need them to assist me on this one.â He described the kidnap attempt.

Armstrong expressed concern, then said he had no objections to the boysâ participating. âPerhaps, then, you can solve our problem quicker,â he remarked. âI want this case cracked before Director Wadsworth gets back from his vacation. Iâm responsible for the mint while heâs away, you know.â

âMr. Armstrong, suppose you clue us in,â Frank suggested.

Armstrong looked grave. âFirst, let me remind you that there must be no leaks about the theft. We donât want any publicity in the news media.â

âMumâs the word,â Chet vowed.

Joe inquired about security precautions.

âThe best,â Armstrong stated. âSee this panel on my desk? It monitors the entire mint. We have hidden television cameras watching every square inch of the building. Our security equipment includes trip wires, photoelectric plates, and laser beams. If anybody gets in their way, sirens go off and warning lights flash on the panel.â

âIt sounds as if youâre better protected than Fort Knox,â Joe said. âHow come the gold was stolen anyway?â

âThatâs just it,â Armstrong said, looking bewildered. âThe equipment must have been turned off. It was back on the next morning, however.â

âWhat about the guards?â Frank asked.

âThatâs stranger yet,â Armstrong went on. âOne was posted at the outer door, one at the inner steel door, and one here in my office, monitoring the mint through the TV cameras. They were supposed to alert the rest of the night shift if anything happened, but they didnât.â

âIn other words, they went off with the thieves,â Chet said.

âNo. Theyâre here!â

âYou mean they helped the thieves get in, then let them escape with the loot, and stayed behind?â Joe was incredulous.

âYes. Thatâs whatâs so strange,â Armstrong replied. âThey claim nothing unusual happened at any time that night. The police questioned them after they were arrested but theyâre sticking to their story.â

Frank shook his head. âIt doesnât make sense. Where was the gold taken from?â

âThe subterranean vault,â Armstrong said. âCome on. Iâll take you down there.â

He ushered the group to his private elevator and pushed the button. The elevator descended three floors. The doors opened and Armstrong led the way to a steel door, where a guard was on duty. He spun the dial until the combination clicked and pushed the door inward.

The boys gaped. Gold bars about a foot long were stacked in rows on racks that stretched across most of the room. A yellow gleam shimmered under fluorescent lighting. A couple of men in shirtsleeves were counting the bars and entering figures in a ledger.

Chetâs eyes bulged. âThereâs got to be a million dollars in here,â he practically shouted.

âMore than that, young man,â Armstrong said. âWeâre missing twenty-five bars. Each weighs over twenty-seven pounds, and with gold selling on the international market at a very high rate presently, that consignment comes to more than a million.â

He gestured toward an empty rack near the door. âThatâs where the stolen bars were when we closed the vault for the night. The thieves must have carted the gold out of here and around to the outer door at the rear of the building. Thatâs where they made their getaway.â

Frank was peering at the nearest row of gold bars. âWhy, theyâre stamped with the hammer and sickle,â he noted.

âSame as the missing gold,â Armstrong replied. âThe Russians traded it through middlemen in Zurich, who sold it to us.â

He conducted them out of the gold room and through the subterranean vault to a freight elevator. They emerged at the rear door of the mint. A guard let them through into a receiving area, where some armored cars were parked.

âIâm late for a meeting,â Armstrong said and excused himself. âPlease look around all you want and weâll talk later.â He went back to his office.

Frank quickly surveyed the lot. âNothing to stop the crooks once they got the gold this far,â he concluded.

âRight,â Joe agreed. âBut how did they get this far? Weâll have to talk to the guards.â

âYou go ahead,â Mr. Hardy said. âIâll carry on my investigation here at the mint and talk to the employees.â

âAnd Iâm going to have breakfast,â Chet stated.

Frank chuckled. âYour second breakfast, Chet.â

âGot to keep my strength up if Iâm going to solve this case,â the stout boy replied airily.

Frank and Joe dropped Chet at a diner and drove to police headquarters. They identified themselves to the sergeant at the desk.

âYouâre Fenton Hardyâs sons?â the officer asked. âThatâs good enough for me. Around here, we admire your fatherâs work. Come on! Iâll let you speak to the prisoners from the mint. Funny thing about them.â

âFunny?â Joe prodded.

âTheyâve got to be guilty,â the sergeant said, âbut theyâve taken a polygraph, or lie-detector, test. It says theyâre telling the truth!â

The three men looked sullen. They were Herb Ponty, Fred Walters, and Mike Nicholson. Ponty did most of the talking.

He admitted they had been on duty the night the gold had vanished. He himself had been stationed in Armstrongâs office at the monitor. âWalters was posted at the outer door to the receiving area. Nicholson guarded the steel door to the gold room.â

The Hardys cross-examined the men. Had they left their posts during the night? Had they gone to sleep?

âNo, not us,â Ponty replied defensively. âItâs our job to stay awake. Anyway, it wouldnât have made any difference. A thief trying to get in would have kicked off the alarm system.â

âYou could have turned off the alarm,â Joe asserted. âThe control button is on the panel in Mr. Armstrongâs office.â

âIf I had,â Ponty argued belligerently, âwould I have hung around to be arrested? Iâd have left with the thieves.â

âYes,â Frank said, âbut the gold is gone. Have you three any idea how the crooks pulled off the heist?â

âNo, we donât remember seeing anything unusual all night,â Ponty declared. âWhen Mr. Armstrong opened the vault the next morning, the gold wasnât there and we were arrested.â

Frank and Joe realized they could not get any more information from the prisoners and headed back to the Wakefield Mint.

âThis is the most mysterious case weâve ever been on,â Joe commented.

âIt sure is,â Frank agreed. âA consignment of gold vanishes. The guards say they donât know a thing about it. And a polygraph confirms it.â

The boys picked up Chet at the diner as he was drinking his third malted. Then they rode back to the mint, where they told Fenton Hardy and John Armstrong about their talk with the accused men.

âHow many people know the combination of the vault door?â Frank asked Armstrong.

âAs I told your father, only Director Wadsworth and I. You seeââ

A screaming siren cut him off. Red and blue lights flashed on the monitor panel. A moving blur appeared on one TV screen.

Armstrong gasped. âThereâs a thief in the vault!â he cried.

CHAPTER III

âDeep Six F.H.â

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JOHN Armstrong rushed into his private elevator. Fenton Hardy and the boys crowded in on his heels. The elevator descended three floors and the doors opened.

The noise of the siren was nearly deafening in the subterranean vault. A guard stood at the door of the gold room, which was wide open. He turned toward Armstrong.

âUnauthorized person inside, sir,â he announced. âThe door was open and he got in.â

âI left it open, Porter,â Armstrong confessed. âI thought Millard and Lajinski had nearly finished counting the gold and would close it when they came out. My mistake.â

âThey hadnât finished when the siren went off,â Porter replied.

He led the way inside. The two men in shirtsleeves were still there, talking to a third, who looked embarrassed.

âI didnât know a laser beam crossed the gold room,â he protested. âI got in the way by accident when I came in to see why the door was open.â

Frank stared at him. âIf youâre an employee of the mint, why donât you know about the alarm system in the vault?â

âIâm new here,â the man replied sulkily.

Porter nodded. âThatâs true. We took him on three days ago. He hasnât had time to learn the ropes, but heâll catch on.â

Armstrong ordered that the siren be turned off and sent the man to his post; then he escorted his visitors to his office. He sat down in his swivel chair and mopped his brow with a large handkerchief from his breast pocket. Mr. Hardy took a stuffed leather easy chair. The boys occupied a couch.

âMr. Armstrong,â Frank began the conversation, âyou were saying that only you and Mr. Wadsworth, the director, know the combination to the steel door of the gold room. Do you think somebody else could have learned it?â

âI suppose someone could in spite of all our precautions,â Armstrong admitted. He added, âThe gold was shipped from the Swiss Gold Syndicate in Zurich. The bars might be smuggled back there for resale by a shady international financier. Iâd better send an agent to Zurich to investigate.â

Fenton Hardy smiled. âTwo agents,â he suggested. âI dare say Frank and Joe will volunteer. Theyâre on their spring vacation.â

âWill you, boys?â Armstrong asked eagerly.

The Hardys quickly agreed. Chet looked crestfallen, but said nothing. Armstrong turned to him. âYouâre included if you want to be.â

âOh, great!â Chet said, and smiled again.

âThe place to begin is the Swiss Gold Syndicate,â Armstrong pointed out. âThey handle transactions on the world-wide gold market, and know about this theft. Iâm sure theyâll be glad to cooperate. Iâll set up an interview for you.â

He made a long distance call to Zurich. While he spoke, the expression on his face changed from a frown to utter surprise. When he hung up, he said, âI think we have our first clue!â

âWhat happened?â Fenton Hardy asked.

âI didnât speak to Johann Jung, the director of the syndicate. Heâs in South Africa, inspecting gold mines, and wonât be back till next Monday. But his assistant just told me that he received a phone call from a man who said that he should watch out for the Wakefield gold. It is expected to be sold in Zurich illegally in about two weeks.â

âWow!â Frank said. âWho was the caller?â

âHe didnât identify himself. But I hope you can find out. Youâre supposed to be in Jungâs office Monday at two in the afternoon.â

Fenton Hardy arose. âThat gives us some time for sleuthing here before you leave,â he said. âI have a notion the crooks have already flown the gold out of the Wakefield area or are about to. Transporting it by truck on the highway would be too risky. Iâll alert the airlines. You boys check the charter carriers. Also scout around and see if you can find a private airstrip where a plane could take off with a cargo of gold bullion. Iâll meet you at the garage later.â

The three boys went out and got into the Hardysâ car. Frank turned on the ignition and headed toward the center of town. Suddenly he circled around the block and stopped at a phone on the corner.

âFrank, whatâs up?â Chet asked.

âI think we should check out Mr. Armstrongâs story.â

Chetâs eyes widened in astonishment. âHe isnât a suspect!â

Joe spoke up. âFrankâs right, Chet. Everybodyâs a suspect in this case.â

Frank found Armstrongâs address in the phone book and the address of Wakefieldâs only charter airline. They drove first to the manâs house. A motherly woman answered the door.

âMr. Armstrong is not at home,â she told them. âIâm Mrs. Wright, his housekeeper. Mr. Armstrong is a bachelor.â

Frank mentioned the night of the gold theft. âWas Mr. Armstrong at home that night?â

âOh yes. He returned from the mint in time for dinner, as usual. And he didnât leave the house till the following morning.â

Frank thanked the housekeeper and the boys resumed their drive to the center of Wakefield.

âThat clears Mr. Armstrong,â Frank commented. âHe was in bed when the gold vanished from the mint.â In a few minutes Frank parked in front of the Carrier Consolidated office on Main Street. The boys went inside. They looked around in surprise. The office was a dusty cubbyhole. A pile of burlap bags lay in one corner, and a half-filled coke bottle stood on the counter. An old plaque on the wall proclaimed that Carrier Consolidated would ferry any cargo anywhere.

âThis place could use a cleanup,â Frank muttered. âIf only Aunt Gertrude were here! Sheâd give the guy in charge a piece of her mind.â

âIâll see if heâs in the back room,â Joe said. He went around behind the counter. Suddenly a hand pointed a round metal barrel at him through the doorway!

âWatch out!â Chet whispered hoarsely. âHeâs got a gun.â

Before Joe could move, a heavyset individual came through the doorway. âLook here,â he said. âThis is our newest fire extinguisher. Point it like a pistol, pull the trigger, and presto! It shoots foam all over the blaze. Neat idea, eh?â

âNeat is right,â Joe answered. âI thought it was a real pistol.â

The man put the fire extinguisher on the shelf behind him. âCarrier Consolidated, at your service,â he said.

âAny flights to Zurich, Switzerland?â Frank asked.

âSure. Whatâs on your mind?â

âWeâre working on a deal involving a shipment,â Frank said.

The man reached for a ledger. âWe had two flights to Zurich this month: a cargo of tin and a lumber shipment. The next flight will be in approximately a week. Whatâs the weight going to be?â

âUhâabout two hundred pounds.â

âNo problem.â

âOkay. Weâll let you know when the deal goes through,â Frank said, and thanked the man for the information.

As the boys were leaving the office, they almost ran into a woman who came through the door and walked up to the counter. She was the waitress from the Stacy Hotel!

Frank nudged Joe as he started to close the door behind him. âWhat do you know about that?â he whispered.

âLetâs see if we can hear any of their conversation,â Joe replied and left the door open a crack.

The three friends stood still and pressed their ears against the door, but there was only the sound of muffled voices.

âWhat now?â Chet asked. âThis is strange.â

âLetâs go to the Stacy and check up on the waitress,â Frank suggested. âMaybe she had a reason for being nosey last night.â

They went to the hotel and spoke to the manager. âWeâd like to talk to your pretty, red-haired waitress,â Frank began. âIs she in?â

âNo, itâs her day off,â the man replied with a grin. âBut thereâs no use in trying to date her.â

âOh?â said Frank.

âSure. Her husband runs the Carrier Consolidated office. Heâd give you a hard time.â

The boys wanted to roar with laughter, but instead pretended to be embarrassed and left quickly.

âWhat do you know!â Frank said when the boys were back in the car.

âThat youâre some smoothy,â Chet needled him.

Joe was serious. âMaybe both the husband and the wife are involved in our case.â

âWhat do we do now?â Chet asked.

Frank started the engine. âLetâs see if we can find a private airstrip.â

The superhighway curved around Wakefield to the north, east, and south. An undeveloped area lay to the west. They decided to scout in that direction. Frank parked at a dead end, and the boys crossed a field on foot. Then they plunged into the woods.

For two hours they tramped between groves of trees and thick bushes. They stumbled over stones and fallen tree trunks. Brambles tore at their clothing and scratched their hands. Doggedly they puffed up hills and down into ravines.

Finally Chet halted and sat down on a boulder, perspiration streaming down his face. His breath came in great gasps. He held up a hand and let it fall limply into his lap. âFellows, Iâve had it!â he announced.

Joe grinned. âDonât give up now, Chet! Youâre getting rid of that spare tire around your middle. Besides, youâve got to walk back out of the woods.â

Chet groaned. âDonât remind me.â

Frank was surveying the ground beyond the boulder. Suddenly he called to the others. Joe raced over. Chet followed slowly.

âWhatâs up?â Joe asked eagerly.

âTire marks on the ground!â Frank exclaimed. âA car went right through the woods!â

âIt probably came from the dirt road we crossed a couple of miles back,â Joe theorized, âWhere did it go?â

âLetâs find out,â Frank urged.

Trained woodsmen, the boys followed the tire marks. They noted how the dried-out, brown grass was flattened, and how the vehicle had run over bushes and around trees. Silently the three sleuths pursued the trail through a thicket to where the woods ended. All the trees and shrubs had recently been cleared away in the shape of an oblong.

âItâs an airstrip,â Frank said in a low voice. âDo either of you see a plane?â

âNo,â Chet answered, and Joe shook his head.

They scouted around the airstrip in Indian file, with Frank in the lead. They had nearly returned to their starting point when Joe noticed sunlight gleaming on metal in a grove of trees.

âIâll investigate,â he offered. Dropping to the ground, he crawled to a large bush, peered through the bare branches, and saw a car parked in the grove. Nobody was in sight, so he waved to his companions to follow him.

The car was old and battered. Scratches on the fenders showed it had been driven a long distance through the woods. It had no license plates.

Finding the doors unlocked, Joe opened the glove compartment and took out a sheet of paper lying inside. Frank and Chet peered over his shoulder as he read a short typewritten message.

DEEP six F.H.

CHAPTER IV

Stop Thief!

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THE boys were shocked. Frank felt cold chills run up and down his spine.

âIâll bet F.H. stands for Fenton Hardy!â he exclaimed.

âAnd deep six means get rid of him,â Joe added grimly.

âNo wonder your dad said it was a dangerous case,â Chet put in. âWeâd better let him know the gangâs after him.â

They marched back to the dirt road and on to their car. Joe drove to the garage, where Mr. Hardy was already waiting. Frank quickly explained to him about the airstrip near the Wakefield Mint and the car hidden in the clump of trees.

âHereâs what I found in the glove compartment,â Joe said, handing him the message.

Mr. Hardy read it thoughtfully. âThis ties in with that phone call I received,â he said. âWhoever stole the gold wants me off the case. When he realized that his warning had no effect, he and his pals decided to use other measures.â

âWhat now, Mr. Hardy?â Chet asked.

âLeave the car where it is. Donât let on to anyone that youâve seen it. Iâll keep the area under surveillance and see who comes back to the spot. That might break the case wide open. I only hope,â he added wryly, âthat the person who is to receive this message has not seen it yet!â

Franked looked doubtful. âI think Joe and I shouldnât go to Zurich, Dad. Itâs too dangerous for you to be here without us.â

Joe supported his brother. âWeâll stay in Wakefield and help you out in case of trouble.â

Fenton Hardy shook his head. âI realize the danger,â he confessed. âBut Iâll watch my step, and take my assistant, Sam Radley, off his case to give me a hand if necessary. We must look into the Zurich angle, and my sons are naturals for the assignment. Chet, if your folks consent to your going, too, Iâm sure Frank and Joe will be glad to have you along. Go home to Bayport and arrange for your flight.â

Reluctantly the boys drove away early the next morning. On the way Chet begged to stop in New York to see the gold exhibit at the Early Art Museum before returning to Bayport.

The Hardys consented and they went on to New York City. Joe spotted a parking lot only a few blocks from the museum. They left the car and walked to the building. A large sign over the entrance read: SCYTHIAN GOLD. The words below stated that the art objects had been sent to the United States by the Soviet Union under a cultural-exchange program.

Chet assumed a learned expression. âThe Scythians lived in an area that now belongs to Russia,â he intoned. âThatâs why the Russians have the Scythian gold. They dug up a lot of it in places where those guys camped.â

Frank smiled. âVery interesting, Chet. Weâll hear the rest of your lecture later, Professor Morton.â

The boys were the first viewers to arrive at the museum. The man in charge of the exhibition was a Russian with jet-black hair and a black spade-shaped beard. He wore black clothes and a ring with a large black stone, which gleamed as he gestured.

âI am Ivan Orlov,â he introduced himself. âPerhaps you would care to have me describe our Scythian gold.â

Chet waved a hand. âThat wonât be necessary,â he declared. âIâm a pro when it comes to gold.â

Frank nudged Joe. He concealed his mouth with his hand and whispered, âChetâs up to his old tricks, telling the experts he knows more about their subject than they do.â

Joe grinned. âLetâs see if he gets away with it this time.â

Orlov gave Chet a dubious look. âI do not doubt you, my friend,â the Russian said, âbut surelyââ

âIâm an adept in golden artifacts,â Chet told him. âAnd Iâve got a diploma to prove it.â

âI have never heard of such a title,â Orlov said coolly. âBut please go inside.â His black ring reflected rays of light as he gestured toward the first room of the exhibition.

The boys entered, noticing a sign with the words ANIMAL CHAMBER. Large locked cases held gleaming gold figures of horses, dogs, bulls, deer, mountain goats, tigers, and many other species.

âThose Scythians were big on animals,â Chet observed. âThey made gold representations of everything that moved.â

The Bayporters walked through the display, marveling at the high quality of the Scythian art. They stopped before a huge vase ornamented in gold with the figure of a tiger leaping toward the horns of a defiant bull.

âSiberian tiger,â Chet identified the big cat.

The next case contained nothing but replicas of horses, large and small, reclining and standing, jumping and galloping.

âDonât tell me, Chet,â Joe said. âLet me guess. The Scythians rode a lot.â

âRight. They were terrific riders.â

A small figurine in the lower left-hand corner caught their interest. It was a golden horse, rearing on its hind legs. The animal was perfectly modeled with uplifted head and tossing mane.

âIâd like to own that one,â Joe remarked. âIâll bet Mother would put it on the mantel in our living room.â

Frank grinned. âAunt Gertrude would surely keep it polished,â he added.

While they sauntered around the Animal Chamber another visitor came in and looked at the display with intense interest. He was a middle-aged man with gray hair, dressed in a pin-striped suit. Under his right arm he clutched a leather briefcase, his hand tightly grasping the handle as if he were afraid somebody might snatch it from him.

As the stranger stepped back to get a better view of the figurine of the rearing horse, he bumped into Joe. The briefcase fell to the floor. The man instantly reached down and picked it up.

âExcuse me,â he apologized in a high-pitched voice tinged with a slight Spanish accent. âI did not see you.â

âNo harm done,â Joe said cheerfully.

The boys went into the next room, the Ornament Chamber. Every case gleamed with rows of Scythian rings, necklaces, bracelets, pins, brooches, earrings, buckles, and other items of personal adornment.

In an authoritarian voice Chet told his friends about the dress of the ancient tribe. âThe Scythian girls went in for gold in a big way,â he said, âand the men, too. Everybody woreââ

He was interrupted by a frenzied shout from the Animal Chamber. âStop, thief!â

Alarmed, the boys hurried out into the hallway. At the far end they saw the stranger with the briefcase and the Spanish accent push through the revolving door. A guard dashed from the Animal Chamber and ran after him. The three Bayporters joined the chase.

When they reached the street, however, the fugitive had already hailed a taxi and was speeding away in the traffic.

âWhat luck!â Frank fumed. âAnd there isnât another cab in sight.â

âMr. Orlov will be furious,â the guard said, his voice trembling with fear. âBut I noticed it too lateââ

âExactly what happened?â Frank asked.

âThat man ran out of the Animal Chamber. I became suspicious and checked. I found that the glass in one of the display cases had been cut open. A figurine was missing. I alerted Orlov and took off after the thief.â

âWas anyone else in the room at the time?â Frank queried.

âNo. Mr. Orlov had gone to his office. Oh, just before the robbery a tall blond man came out of the room and buried his cigarette butt in the bucket of sand in the hallway. I appreciated that because we donât want a fire in the museum. The man went upstairs. In a moment the thief appeared. Obviously he waited until he was alone in the room, then stole the figurine.â

The boys found Orlov in the Animal Chamber in front of a display case. A piece of glass had been cut out neatly, and the figurine of the rearing horse that Frank had admired was missing.

The Russian was extremely agitated. He demanded to know what had become of the thief.

âHe got away, Mr. Orlov,â the guard replied. âJumped into a taxi.â

Orlov began wringing his hands. âAmericans! You cannot trust them. I never should have brought the gold here. Our government will be very angry!â

âMaybe we can help you recover the piece,â Frank offered. âWe have been doing some detective work. Unfortunately, the thief seems to have left no clue.â

âI donât know about that,â Chet spoke up. âWhile you were staring after that taxi, I picked this up from the sidewalk. Maybe the guy dropped it!â

He held up a telegram. The others crowded around and read the message.

PEDRO ZEMOG. TAKE CONSIGNMENT TO ZURICH. A.P.

CHAPTER V

The Bulging Briefcase

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CHET grinned with a self-satisfied expression as the others read the telegram. âThe Hardys arenât the only detectives around here.â He chortled.

Joe scratched his head. âBut what does the message mean?â

âSearch me,â Chet replied.

Frank turned to the Russian curator. âMr. Orlov, does the name Pedro Zemog suggest anything to you?â

âNothing!â Orlov answered. âNothing!â

âWhat about A.P.?â

âNothing.â

The Hardys wondered about the briefcase Zemog had been carrying. Had he opened it in the museum and slipped the figurine inside?

âI saw nothing!â Orlov said.

The guard added, âThe thief did not open his briefcase when I saw him. As a matter of fact, he acted as if it were made of solid gold, and he held it very tightly.â

âYour police had better do something about getting my ancient horse back!â Orlov exclaimed impatiently. âThis theft could be a serious matter between our two countries.â

âYes,â Frank agreed. âYouâll have to report it right away. But perhaps we can help you. Mr. Zemog is headed for Zurich according to this telegram. Weâre planning to go there ourselves. Mr. Orlov, would you like us to try to find the thief?â

Orlov stared at him. âYouâbut who are you?â

Frank introduced himself, Joe, and Chet and told Orlov about his fatherâs work.

The Russian became interested. âYou are going to Zurich? Good. I will let you pursue the case in Switzerland.â

Joe had a sudden thought. âWhat about the tall blond man? If heâs still upstairs, he might be able to tell us something about the thief.â

Orlov gave the boys permission to search the building. They rushed upstairs, but could not find anyone who fitted the blond manâs description. They returned and reported their failure.

âHe must have left by this time,â Orlov said. âToo bad we did not think of looking for him sooner.â

âMaybe the guy didnât know anything was wrong and simply strolled out after he looked at the exhibition,â the guard added.

Frank and Joe promised Orlov they would stay on the case. Then they went with Chet to the parking lot.

âLetâs stop at police headquarters,â Frank suggested. âWe may be able to explain the loss of the gold horse better than Mr. Orlov.â

He took the wheel and a few minutes later they were talking to the lieutenant on duty. He agreed to cooperate. Hearing their names, he asked if Frank and Joe were the sons of Fenton Hardy. When he learned that they were, he said, âFenton is a great detective. Iâm glad to hear youâre following in his footsteps.â

After the lieutenant heard the description of the suspect, he shrugged his shoulders. âMiddle-aged man with gray hair, pin-striped suit, carrying a briefcase. Hundreds of men in New York match that description. But Iâll put out a bulletin on him and alert the airlines. Who knows? We might be lucky.â

The boys thanked the lieutenant and drove to Bayport. After dropping Chet at his house, the Hardys hurried home.

They found their mother in the living room, reading a magazine. She was a pleasant woman who worried about the cases her husband and her sons handled. But she had confidence in them and knew that they had squeezed out of tight situations many times.

âFrank, Joe,â she greeted them. The boys hugged her. âIâm relieved to see you. What have you been doing?â

âPretending weâre gold bugs,â Joe said with a chuckle.

Another voice interrupted. âBugs? We donât want any bugs in this house! What are you boys up to now?â

The speaker was their aunt Gertrude, Fenton Hardyâs sister, who lived with the family. She was often stern with her nephews, but they knew she was very fond of them. Miss Hardy admired their skill in solving mysteries, although she tried not to show it.

Joe laughed. âAunt Gertrude, these arenât the kinds of bugs you sweep out the back door with your broom.â

âWeâre not talking about entomology, the science of bugs,â Frank added with a grin.

âGoldology would be more like it,â Joe quipped.

Gertrude Hardy sniffed. âYou boys can keep your ologies and your bugs,â she stated firmly. âNow explain your explanation.â

âDadâs trying to recover a shipment of gold that was stolen from the Wakefield Mint,â Frank told her, âand weâre helping him. As a matter of fact, weâll be going to Zurich, Switzerland, as soon as we can get a flight.â

âIsnât that a risky adventure?â his mother asked.

Frank reassured her. âWeâll interview the director of the Swiss Gold Syndicate and ask if the gold has been routed through there.â

âYou might get buried by an avalanche,â Aunt Gertrude remarked. âWhat will you do then?â

âWeâll wait for a Saint Bernard dog to find us,â Joe needled his aunt. âSeriously, though, weâll be all right.â

âWe donât want to stay away too long,â Frank said. âNot when we have your delicious pies to come back to.â

Gertrude Hardy smiled and smoothed back her hair. She could never resist a compliment about her cooking, and promptly invited her nephews into the kitchen for cherry pie and homemade whipped cream.

The next morning Chet phoned. He was glum. âDad says I have to stay home and help on the farm,â he reported. âHave fun, fellows, and round up the gold heisters.â

Frank and Joe flew out of Kennedy Airport the following evening. They would have liked to stay in the city longer to see if they could trace Pedro Zemog, but could not book a later flight that would get them to Zurich in time for their appointment with Johann Jung.

Their jet zoomed up from the runway, climbed into the sky, and circled over New Yorkâs sky-scrapers. Frank and Joe settled near the rear and got a good view of the Empire State Building, the towers of the trade center, and the tip of lower Manhattan. Soon the plane gained altitude and all they could see below them were puffy white clouds.

âI wonder if thereâs a connection between the Wakefield gold and the Scythian treasure,â Frank said thoughtfully.

âCould be,â Joe replied. âBoth came from the Soviet Union.â

âAnd itâs our job to find both,â Frank reminded his brother. âThe consignment mentioned in the telegram Zemog dropped-could it be gold bars that vanished from Wakefield?â

âGood question,â Joe replied. âMaybe weâll find the answer in Zurich.â

He slipped out of his seat into the aisle and went for a drink of water near the center of the plane. Then he strolled up front and finally started back. He noticed a man with gray hair, dressed in a dark brown suit. Though he was asleep, he guarded a briefcase under one arm.

Joe paused a moment. âThat guy resembles the thief from the museum, Pedro Zemog,â he thought. âToo bad heâs asleep. I wish I could find out if he speaks with a Spanish accent.â

Joe went to ask a stewardess. She replied that the man had not spoken so she did not know.

Joe returned to his seat and informed Frank of his suspicion. Frank immediately made a trip to the front of the plane. On his way back he glanced at the man, who was still sleeping.

âThat guy resembles the thief from the museum!â Joe thought.

When Frank returned, Joe asked, âWhat do you think?â

âHard to tell. Weâre looking for a guy with a Spanish accent. Letâs wait till he wakes up. If this passenger is not Zemog, we could get into real big trouble by accusing him of being a thief.â

âBut didnât you see the bulge in his briefcase?â Joe asked. âIt could be the gold horse.â

âJoe, the man had to go through the detection center at the airport. A gold object would have been spotted and he would have been arrested.â

âThatâs right,â Joe had to admit.

âWeâd better sit tight until we get to Zurich,â Frank urged, âunless we hear him talk in the plane.â

The stewardess arrived with a late dinner, which the boys lost no time in eating. After that, they checked on the suspect again. He had obviously not eaten and was still sleeping.

The boys returned to their places, pushed the reclining seat as far back as they could, and slept as the jet thundered toward Europe. When the Hardys awoke, they saw a magnificent view through the window. Snow-covered mountains spread far and wide beneath their plane. Tall peaks towered toward the sky. Villages nestled in the valleys.

âWeâre over the Alps!â Joe exclaimed.

Frank glanced at his watch. âBy my reckoning, weâre over Switzerland already.â

Over the loudspeaker a stewardess advised passengers to fasten their seat belts. The jet hissed over Lake Zurich, which extended from the city to the high mountains. The pilot kept on course and came down for a perfect landing at the airport. He taxied to the terminal, braked to a stop, and shut off the engines.

Frank and Joe stood up and tried to reach the suspect, but passengers blocked the aisle. The man in the brown suit waited at the head of the line to debark. Within minutes, he was off the plane.

Watching him through the window, the Hardys saw him hasten to the terminal and into the building. Finally Frank and Joe arrived too. By the time they passed through customs, their quarry was headed toward the exit with long, swift strides. Lugging their suitcases, the Hardys pursued him as fast as they could. They caught up with him at the taxi rank.

He whirled and glared at them when Frank spoke to him. âWeâre interested in what happened in New York,â the boy said.

An expression of fear came over the manâs face. Suddenly he hurled himself at Joe, bowling him over backwards. Joe collided violently with Frank. The impact caused both the Hardys to lose their footing. They fell to the pavement in a heap.

A taxi bore down on them at full speed!

CHAPTER VI

Over the Cliff!

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INSTINCTIVELY resorting to judo, Joe rolled to the right of the speeding taxi. Frank did a somersault to the left.

The vehicle careened between them and jolted to a halt. âWas ist los?â the driver shouted at them. âWas machen Sie denn da?â

The Hardys scrambled to their feet. Frank tried to apologize in his high school German: âEntschuldigen Sie bitte.â

The driver responded with a tirade in German before going on to pick up a fare.

Frank straightened his jacket. âJoe, I think he was telling us off for scaring him. What happened to Zemog?â

âHeâs gone!â Joe said glumly, looking at the passengers lining up for taxies. âHe must have disappeared while we were nearly getting run over by that cab.â

They walked to the end of the line and finally got an empty taxi. Frank told the driver to take them to the William Tell Hotel. At the desk, they signed identification cards and received a room key. They set their luggage inside and tidied up their appearance, then went to the Zurich police headquarters.

Frank explained to an English-speaking captain named Hartl that Pedro Zemog, a suspected thief, was somewhere in the city. Joe inquired whether the Swiss authorities had any information about the man.

The officer checked through the files and made a phone call. Then he turned back to the Hardys.

âPedro Zemog has no criminal record in our country,â he informed them. âBut we will watch for him. Tell me where you are staying, and we will call you if we learn anything.â

âThank you,â Frank said. âWeâre at the William Tell for the next few days.â

The boys returned to their room and unpacked, then contacted the Swiss Gold Syndicate.

Mr. Jungâs assistant told them there had been no more anonymous phone calls. âI asked a lot of people around town,â he said, âbut found out nothing. I doubt anything will transpire over the weekend. Since Mr. Jung is coming back Monday, perhaps the caller will try to get in touch with him personally.â

Frank thanked the assistant and hung up. âWhat do we do now?â

Joe shrugged. âLetâs see the town.â

Taking the elevator to the lobby, they found people at the registration desk or following porters who carried their luggage. Others inspected items in the souvenir shop and relaxed in comfortable chairs. The Hardys paused to look at postcards on a revolving stand. Joe twirled it.

âHey,â said a young American, âyou just took the card I wanted.â A youth about Frankâs age peered at them from behind the revolving stand.

âSorry about that,â Joe apologized. âI didnât know you were on the other side.â

The two boys started a conversation and Frank joined them. The youth said his name was Rory Harper. He was in Switzerland to see the country and do some skiing.

âListen,â Rory said, âIâm here with three girls, my sister Alice, my girl friend Jane Owens, and their friend Karen Temple. Theyâre standing over there by the window. Want to join us for a soda?â

Frank and Joe peered in the direction of the window and broke out in grins after glimpsing three very attractive teen-aged girls.

âSure, weâll be glad to,â Frank said.

After introductions, the Americans sat down at a low table in the lobby and ordered sodas. Roryâs group talked about home and their vacation in Switzerland.

Karen set her glass down on the table. âJoe,â she said, âdo you ski?â

âA little,â Joe answered. âSo does Frank.â

âThatâs great!â Alice exclaimed. âWeâre leaving today. Want to join us for the weekend?â

Frank and Joe looked at each other. âWe donât have to be back till Monday morning, Joe,â Frank said.

âAnd thereâs nothing we can do here in the meantime,â Joe added.

âGood. Then itâs all settled,â Rory said. âWe can rent our gear at the lodge. Letâs go!â

The young people went to their rooms and quickly packed warm clothing in an overnight bag, then met in front of the hotel. They hailed a large taxi and the driver let them off at the railroad station.

On the way to the nearest ski resort, they watched the beautiful landscape as the train snaked up the mountains. They exchanged cheerful banter.

âI hope you guys are pros,â Rory said. âYouâll have to move fast to keep up with me.â

âThatâs right,â his sister added. âRory is fastâon his rear end!â

âAw, Alice, donât say that!â

Jane giggled. âWe should modify that statement. Sometimes heâs fast on his stomach, too! Iâll never forget that time in Vermont when he slid down head first.â

âOh, that was a bad spill I took,â Rory admitted. âMy hat went one way, my goggles another, the poles almost hit another skier, and if the safety straps hadnât held the skis, they would have arrived at the lodge without me.â

âWhat were you trying to do, wind up in the hospital?â Joe kidded.

âNo,â Karen said. âHe was just trying to imitate Herman the German, who did a somersault over a three-foot mogul.â

âHeâs one of the instructors up there,â Jane explained. âOnly Rory canât ski nearly as well as he.â

When they arrived at their destination, they hitched a ride to the lodge with a friendly farmer, who chugged along the road in a pickup truck. As soon as they got there, they rented skis, boots, and poles.

Rory and the three girls had brought ski clothes. The Hardy boys each bought a pair of warmup pants to wear with their jackets.

Sunlight glistened on the packed snow of the slopes, and skiers looked like moving colored dots on a white sheet.

After the Americans had bought their lift tickets, they lined up for one of the chairs. Joe paired off with Karen, Frank with Alice, and Rory got on the lift with Jane.

âWait for us when you get up there!â Rory yelled to the first pair.

âWill do,â Joe called back as he watched a girl in a red suit expertly parallel down the slope.

When they arrived at the top, they surveyed the mountain. Alpine peaks formed the skyline around them. The snow-clad terrain dropped away at their feet into a steep run. A colorful white sign with an arrow read: AUTOBAHN-EXPERT ONLY.

Frank held up a hand. The rest gathered around him in a circle.

âHave any of you skied this slope before?â he asked.

He received only negative answers,

âThen weâd better take the Mouse Run over there first. Thatâs intermediate,â he advised.

Joe and the girls agreed, but Rory shook his head vehemently. âNo, thatâs too easy for me,â he said. âIâm going to take the Autobahn and beat you all to the bottom. See you later!â

He gave a strong push with his poles and began to parallel over the lightly packed powder.

âWeâd better not let him go alone,â Frank called out. âIf you girls think youâre up to it, letâs follow him.â

âWeâll make it,â Jane said.

Frank led the way to the starting point and pushed off with his poles. Joe and the girls followed. The slope took them in a long semicircle and once narrowed to a steep trail, where they had to go in single file. When it widened again, Frank swiftly decreased the gap between himself and Rory and caught up with him about three hundred feet from the bottom.

âHey, slowpoke!â he yelled as he overtook the other boy.

Rory tried to catch Frank, but hit a slippery spot and fell.

This gave Joe and the girls enough time to pass him. and they waited at the bottom with Frank.

âDid you say you were a pro?â Karen joshed him.

âI hit an icy spot,â Rory said lamely. âMy luck!â

âNo excuses,â Jane said and laughed. âJust do better next time.â

Rory looked at the Hardys. âYou guys ski well,â he admitted.

âWe go to Vermont quite a bit,â Frank said.

They spent an hour or so skiing the Autobahn and surrounding slopes, then they rode up a different lift, which took them to a trail called St. Gotthartâs Pass. A barricade blocked the way and a sign read: DANGEROUS SNOW CONDITIONS. TRAIL CLOSED.

âWe donât want to ski down there,â Frank observed. âLetâs go to the right and get another run.â

âAw, that sign doesnât mean a thing,â Rory said flatly. âIâm not afraid to ski down there. According to the map, this connects with a slope called Rim Run, which sounds interesting. Letâs go anyway!â

He quickly slipped around the barricade and was halfway through the first turn before Frank could convince him not to go.

âGirls,â Frank said, âTake another run. Weâll meet you at the bottom.â

âOkay,â Jane said. âBut be careful.â

Joe followed his brother, who was having trouble on the slippery surface. âRory is crazy!â he fumed. âHeâs going to kill himself and us along with him by going down this death trap!â

Uneven and rocky under the snow, the trail was narrow, the ridges precipitous, and the gorges deep.

âThis is like Russian roulette,â Frank muttered to himself. âGuess wrong, and itâs your last chance. Itâs over the edge, and somebody else picks up the pieces at the foot of the cliff!â

He was relieved when he saw he was catching up with Rory. âIâll head him off,â Frank thought.

But Rory seemed determined not to be passed. He skied at top speed along ridges and past gorges. Reaching a steep decline flanked by an icy cliff, he looked back over his shoulder to see how close Frank was.

The gesture caused him to lose his balance. He slipped head over heels on the ice and lay still!

Wondering how badly his friend was hurt, Frank drove himself forward with his ski poles, his eyes on the crumpled form in front of him. His left ski hit a boulder hidden in the snow. His feet shot out from under him and he landed on his back. The momentum carried him into a long slide on the ice. Frantically he tried to stop himself, but it was no use.

Frank Hardy slid over the cliff!

CHAPTER VII

The Confrontation

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JOE skidded to a stop near the top of the cliff, where he had seen Frank vanish.

Rory rose and shook his head woozily. âWhat happened?â

Joe did not explain. âGo get the ski patrol, prontolâ he yelled.

Rory realized the seriousness of the situation instantly and quickly fixed his skis. Then he schussed down the treacherous trail as fast as he could.

Joe, meanwhile, had taken off his skis and edged himself over the cliff. Frank was clinging by his fingers to a stone ledge about two feet from the top. Beneath him there was a ragged drop.

âHold on, Frank!â Joe shouted. He climbed onto the ledge. Planting his feet as firmly as he could, he gripped his brother by the arms and struggled to pull him up.

Frank tried to anchor his feet against the cliff, but it was of no use. His skis, dangling on his ankles by the safety straps, clattered on the rock.

âJust hold still,â Joe advised. âI sent Rory to get help.â

A few minutes later two men from the ski patrol arrived. A rope was dropped over the edge of the cliff, and Joe reached out to catch it. He tied it around Frank, who was drawn to safety by the men above.

âThanks,â Frank said gratefully. âThanks a lot.â

âYou should have more sense than to ski down here,â one of the men chided. âDonât you realize we close these trails for a good reason?â

âIt wasnât Frankâs idea.â Joe came to his brotherâs defense. âRory wanted to get the connection to Rim Runââ

âYou can get it another way,â the man said curtly. âNow follow us down and donât try it again!â

The boys put their skis back on and made it safely to the intersection of Rim Run. From there it was not far to the bottom, where they met Rory and the girls in the lodge. He was drinking a mug of hot chocolate and was glumly stroking the pigeonâs egg on his forehead.

âBoy, do I have a few choice words for you!â Frank said, anger welling up in him again.

âOh, please donât!â Rory said, rolling his eyes and pointing to his head. âIâve ruined my beauty externally and it doesnât feel so hot internally either!â

The Hardys laughed. âServes you right, my friend,â Joe said. âAnd I think now weâd better quit!â

The skiers returned their equipment and found an inexpensive guesthouse in which to spend the night. The following day the Hardys skied till early afternoon, then said good-by to their new friends, who planned to stay for a few more days. Frank and Joe took the train back to Zurich.

At the William Tell Hotel, Frank phoned police headquarters and spoke to Captain Hard.

âWeâre still looking for Zemog,â he informed the boy.

âAny clues?â

âNegative.â

After lunch the following day the boys walked to the Swiss Gold Syndicate. It was nearby in a gray limestone building.

âLooks like a fort,â Joe commented.

âSure does,â Frank agreed. âItâs made of stone and filled with gold.â

The brothers identified themselves to one of the guards, who escorted them to the office of the director. It was a large room with a high ceiling, thick rugs on the floor, and small stone-framed windows.

Johann Jung, a tall, dark-haired man, greeted them in perfect English. âIâm glad youâre here,â he said. âWeâve had another call this morning.â

âAnonymous again?â Joe asked.

âYes. It seems that a small time crook has gotten wind of the fact that the Wakefield gold is to be traded on the black market and wants to capitalize on his information.â

âWhat did he say?â Frank asked eagerly.

âHe told us to deposit five hundred Swiss marks in a small pedestrian tunnel in the old section of town. When he finds the money, heâll leave the information he has.â

âCould be a big hoax,â Frank said. âHe might take the money and run.â

Jung nodded. âThatâs possible,â he said. âOn the other hand, the Wakefield gold heist is not known to anyone here except myself and the staff. How did he find out about it?â

âShall we take a chance and pay him, then?â Joe asked.

âI have already,â Jung said. âHe wanted the money at two oâclock. I sent someone to deposit it.â

âCan your man stake out the place and see who our anonymous friend is?â Frank asked.

âI doubt it. The fellow picked an excellent spot for this type of thing. The tunnel is short, narrow, and dark, and many people use it. Anyone waiting inside or on either end would be obvious.â

It was not long before there was a knock on the door. A young man entered and handed Jung an envelope. âI deposited the money, sir. This is what I got in return.â

Jung took the envelope. âThank you, Hans. Did you see the man?â

Hans shook his head. âI waited about ten minutes after I left the money before going into the tunnel again. In the meantime, too many people walked through it. I have no idea who took the five hundred marks and left this envelope.â

âOkay. Thank you.â

Hans left and Jung opened the message. It read: âIf you want to find out about the Wakefield gold, go to Auerbachâs.â

âWhat does that mean?â Frank asked, puzzled.

âAuerbachâs is a restaurant in Niederdorf,â Jung said. âMaybe youâd better check it out. Iâll give you directions.â

Half an hour later Frank and Joe walked into Auerbachâs. A few people sat at scrubbed wooden tables. The boys approached the elderly man in an apron, who waited on them, and started a conversation in their high school German.

The wrinkle-faced Swiss grinned. âYou Americans?â he asked.

Frank nodded. âIâm glad you speak English.â

âI lived in Chicago for ten years,â the man said.

They found out he was Xaver Auerbach, the owner. After some general comments on Zurich and their travels, Frank said, âWe hear people around here trade in gold.â

The man looked at him suspiciously. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â

Joe pulled out a ten dollar bill. âA friend told us to come here if we wanted to buy gold.â

Slowly Auerbach took the money. âThe only person I hear talking about gold around here is Karl Pfeiffer, and it seems to me heâs more talk than action. He usually drops in at five for something to eat.â

âThanks,â Frank said. âWeâll see him then.â

But at five Karl Pfeiffer did not appear. At six there was still no sign of him. Frank slipped Auerbach another bill. âMaybe we could talk to Pfeiffer at his house,â he said. âWe really canât wait any longer.â

âHe lives at nine Annastrasse, three blocks from here to your right. The basement apartment.â

âThanks.â

The boys found the address and knocked on the door. A sloppy-looking man in his thirties answered.

âKarl Pfeiffer?â Frank asked.

âJa.â

âYou speak English?â

âJa. A little.â

âWhat do you know about the Wakefield gold?â

âNothing.â

âThatâs not what youâve been saying at Auerbachâs,â Joe put in.

Pfeiffer looked scared. âI donât know what youâre talking about. Iââ

He looked up as a police car halted in front of the building. Then he whirled around and hurried into his apartment as two officers approached.

âHey, Pfeiffer, wait!â Frank called out. He ran after the man, who had opened a window on the other side of his living room and was about to climb out.

âHold it!â Frank said and pulled him back just as the policemen entered the apartment.

âVielen Dank fuer die Hilfe,â one of the officers said, thanking Frank for his help. Obviously they had come to arrest Pfeiffer!

Frank tried to explain why the Hardys wanted to talk to the man, but the policemen spoke little English and the boysâ German was not fluent.

âLetâs go with them to headquarters,â Frank suggested, âand talk to Captain Hartl.â

âRight,â Joe said. âItâll be interesting to find out why they nailed Pfeiffer.â

The officers did not object to the boysâ accompanying them to headquarters. When the group arrived, one of them showed Frank and Joe into Captain Hartlâs office. They explained what had happened, and the captain looked puzzled.

âPfeiffer was seen at the scene of a burglary this morning,â he said. âThatâs why we brought him in. Heâs a petty thief, but is not known to be a smuggler. Why donât you wait here and Iâll talk to him.â

The captain was gone for about fifteen minutes. When he returned, he held two envelopes in his hand. âThis is a rather amazing turn of events,â he said. âLook what we found on Pfeiffer!â

One envelope contained five hundred Swiss marks, the other a few gold coins. In the upper left-hand corner of the second envelope were printed the words Wakefield Mint.

âWow!â Frank exclaimed. âWhat a clue! Pfeiffer is involved in the gold heist!â

âI donât think so,â Hartl said. âHe told me the whole story. Pfeiffer was approached by a man last week and paid to spread the rumor about the Wakefield gold. The stranger also gave him the envelope with the coins for future use. Then he told him to call the Swiss Gold Syndicate and arrange for them to pay him five hundred marks in exchange for the information about Auerbachâs.â

âWho hired Pfeiffer?â Frank asked.

âHe doesnât know. But I know Pfeiffer. Heâs been in and out of our jail several times. I think heâs telling the truth. He was set up by someone who wanted to mislead you!â

âWhat did the stranger look like?â Joe asked. âMaybe it was Zemog.â

âI asked Pfeiffer that,â Captain Hartl replied. âThe fellow was tall, thin, and in his early thirties. He spoke German without a trace of an accent and Pfeiffer thinks heâs either German or Swiss. That doesnât fit Zemog.â

âIt doesnât,â Frank had to admit.

âIf I find out anything else about this case and Zemog, Iâll contact Mr. Jung,â Captain Hartl promised.

âThank you very much for your help,â Frank said and the boys left.

âLetâs go back to the hotel and call Jung,â Frank said. âIâm sure heâll be glad to hear the police recovered his five hundred marks.â

A short while later Frank and Joe took the elevator to the fifth floor of the William Tell Hotel. The door clanged open and they stepped into the corridor. At the same time, a man was about to enter the next elevator, which was going down. The boys looked straight at him. He stared in return.

âPedro Zemog!â Frank exclaimed. Zemog still clutched his briefcase, shielding it with his arm. Then the elevator door closed.

âHeâs headed for the lobby!â Joe cried. âWe may be able to catch him!â

The Hardys took the stairs two at a time. They reached the lobby and looked around. There was no sign of Zemog.

âToo late,â Frank groaned.

The desk clerk could not tell them anything about Pedro Zemog, but he did say a man named Jones, who matched their description of Zemog, had been in room 506 and had just checked out of the hotel.

Back on the fifth floor, the Hardys noticed that the door of 506 was open. They went in. The bed was mussed, the drawers half-open, the closet door ajar. A quick tour of the room revealed nothing.

âZemog didnât leave a single clue,â Frank said in disappointment.

âMaybe he did,â Joe answered, as he reached into the wastebasket beside a table. He drew out some shredded yellow paper. Carefully he fitted the torn pieces together.

âItâs a telegram!â Frank said, looking over his brotherâs shoulder, as Joe put the last piece in place. The boys felt completely stymied as they read the message:

PEDRO ZEMOG. TAKE CONSIGNMENT TO MEXICO CITY. A.P.

CHAPTER VIII

A Warning

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FRANK and Joe stared at each other, wondering again if the telegram referred to the gold stolen from the Wakefield Mint.

Finally Frank shook his head. âIt canât be. I think the telegram indicates that the consignment referred to has been in Switzerland and is now to be shipped to Mexico. But the crooks wouldnât be so foolish as to bring the gold to Zurich secretly and then spread a rumor that it would be sold here!â

âI see what youâre getting at,â Joe agreed. âThe rumor was created to keep us far from the place where the Wakefield gold has been, or will be, taken. So Zemogâs instructions donât refer to it.â

âRight. But letâs phone Captain Hartl about the telegram, anyway. We still want to find Zemog for the museum.â

Police Captain Hartl promised to alert the airlines about the fugitiveâs planned trip to Mexico, but said, âSince Zemog called himself Jones at the hotel, heâs obviously traveling under an assumed name. That creates a problem. What are your plans?â

âI think weâll go back to Wakefield,â Frank said.

âGood idea. If we find Zemog, we will get in touch with the Early Art Museum in New York.â

âThank you very much,â Frank said and hung up.

The boys packed and flew home the next morning. When they arrived, their mother greeted them with hugs. âIâm so glad youâre back,â she said. âI hope you werenât in any danger.â

âWell, Frank did a cliff-hanger,â Joe said, laughing. He described the skiing party and his brotherâs accident.

âWhy, Frank, you could have been hurt!â Mrs. Hardy exclaimed.

âMother,â Frank assured her, âI knew what I was doing. And anyway, Joe was watching and came to the rescue.â

âI wish the two of you wouldnât take such chances.â Mrs. Hardy sighed.

âChances? What chances?â said Aunt Gertrude at the doorway. âHave you boys been up to some of your harebrained stunts again?â

After hearing the story, she shook her head. âYou must have nine lives, like they say cats do.â

Frank thought, âI used one up on that cliff.â

âBy the way,â Mrs. Hardy put in, âa man named Ivan Orlov phoned and asked for you. I told him youâd be back today. He refused to say what he wanted.â

A short while later, the phone rang. Joe answered. The caller was Orlov. âSo you are back from Zurich,â he said. âHave you brought the Scythian figurine with you?â

Joe confessed that he and Frank had failed to retrieve the golden horse. He described how the boys had spotted Zemog at the Zurich airport and at the William Tell Hotel, and said that the police were looking for him.

âWhy did you not have him arrested? Why did you not take the figurine from him?â Orlov demanded.

âWe lost him both times.â

âLost him!â Orlov stormed. âYou mean you and your brother permitted him to escape?â

âThatâs about the size of it,â Joe said.

âSize? What does that meanâsize?â

âIt means youâre correct, Mr. Orlov.â

âYou have brought back no clue from Zurich?â

âYes, as a matter of fact we have,â Joe stated. He told the curator about the shredded telegram in Zemogâs abandoned hotel room and the message referring to Mexico City.

âYou must follow him!â the Russian declared, excited. âYou must go to Mexico City at once and find the gold horse! I will pay your expenses!â

Joe informed Orlov that they could not do this until they heard from their father. âHe and my brother and I are involved in another case,â he explained.

Orlov became angrier. âAnother case? What case could be more important than mine? Are you leaving meâhow do you say itâin the lurch?â

âMr. Orlov, if our father can spare us, weâll be glad to pursue your case. But weâll have to check with him first.â

âThis is too confusing,â Orlov complained. âAll I can say is that if the gold horse is not restored to me, it will be ... most unfortunate for your country!â

The Russian hung up so vehemently that Joe felt a painful buzz in his ear.

âWow! Next time he calls, Frank, you talk to Comrade Orlov!â he said, holding his ear.

âWhatâs up?â

âHeâs mad at us because we didnât bring his gold horse back from Switzerland. Now he wants us to leave at once and chase Zemog around Mexico City.â

The phone rang again. Frank answered it.

âIf itâs Orlov,â Joe muttered, âsay Iâm off on a moon flight.â

This time Fenton Hardy was calling. âIâm in John Armstrongâs office and we have you on conference call so we both can hear your report on Zurich,â the detective said.

âIt was not a success,â Frank said and told about their visit to the Swiss Gold Syndicate, the false lead, and the arrest of Pfeiffer.

Mr. Hardy and John Armstrong agreed that the rumor was undoubtedly a diversionary tactic which the thieves had cunningly used to mislead the Hardys.

Frank told his father about Zemog and the stolen figurine from the Early Art Museum in New York. âOrlov wants us to go to Mexico City,â he said. âBut we told him that we could only work for him if you donât need us any more.â

âWell, Iâm up against a stone wall right now,â Mr. Hardy said. âLet me talk to John.â

The two men conferred for a few minutes, then Mr. Hardy came back on the line. âWhen you mentioned Mexico City, John remembered something he had been told just the day before the burglary,â the detective said. âIt had slipped his mind, but now it seems as if it might be a clue!â

âWhat is it?â Frank asked eagerly.

âOne of the guards mentioned that he saw a private plane flying rather low over the mint with the words âMexico Cityâ on the fuselage. John paid little attention to it at the time, but now weâre beginning to think that perhaps the plane landed on the hidden airstrip here in Wakefield and waited for the gold to be flown out.â

âOh, Dad, thatâs a great theory!â Frank said, excited.

âThe only thing is,â Joe put in, âhow do you know Mexico City was the planeâs destination?â

âYou donât,â Mr. Hardy said thoughtfully. Again he conferred with Armstrong for a few minutes, then he said, âJohn thinks that even if the plane didnât fly to Mexico City, it might have been based there. Since thereâs nothing for you to do here at this point, he wants you to fly to Mexico and see if you can track down the plane while youâre looking for Zemog.â

âWeâll be glad to check out the Mexican angle,â Frank said. âAnd Orlov will be pleased, too. Weâll leave as soon as we can. Whatâs new in Wakefield?â

âNo clues,â Mr. Hardy replied. âI scouted around the airstrip in the guise of a backpacker and kept the abandoned car under surveillance for three days. No one went near it.â

âWas the car stolen?â Frank asked.

âYes. The owner has it now. By the way, John said if you need any help in Mexico heâll be glad to pay the expenses. He wants that plane tracked down as fast as possible.â

âWeâll ask Chet, Biff, and Tony to go along,â Frank suggested. âThis way we can split up and divide the legwork.â

âExcellent idea. And good luck!â

Biff Hooper and Tony Prito were two more of the Hardysâ close friends. Biff was a husky six-footer who knew how to use his fists. Olive-skinned Tony was a carefree youth who was always ready for an adventure. Like Chet, the two boys had helped Frank and Joe solve some of their mysteries in the past. Frank phoned them at once. âBig doings!â he said. âMake tracks over here in a hurry or get left out!â

Twenty minutes later a series of loud, gunlike reports sounded in the street. Chetâs battered jalopy rattled up to the Hardy home, backfiring all the way. Chet was at the wheel, with Biff and Tony beside him. He brought the vehicle to a jolting stop at the curb and turned off the ignition. The jalopy stopped its bucking and subsided.

Tony jumped out and stretched. âOh, my aching back!â He groaned.

Biff extricated his long legs from under the dashboard. âWhen you ride with Chet, you hurt all over.â

Chet grinned. âHow come you guys let me give you a lift if my jalopy scrambles your anatomy?â

âWe never learn,â Biff said.

The three hurried up the front steps. Frank and Joe were eating large pieces of cherry pie on the porch. âGo right through,â Joe told their friends. âAunt Gertrude is ready for you.â

Chet, Biff, and Tony went to the kitchen and reappeared with slices of pie. Tony sat down in a rocking chair, Biff perched on the porch railing, and Chet reclined in a hammock, balancing the loaded plate on his belt buckle.

âOkay,â Tony said, âletâs have it.â

âIt had better be good,â Biff warned.

âThe cherry pie suits me,â Chet countered. âBut I know what the Hardys are up to.â

âWhat?â Biff demanded.

âGold!â

âChetâs right,â Frank revealed. He briefly told them the story of the Wakefield and Scythian gold. âWe are working on both cases,â he concluded.

âNext stopâMexico City,â Joe added. âHow about you guys joining the expedition, all expenses paid?â

âWow!â Chet exclaimed, and the other two were equally enthusiastic.

âIt might be dangerous,â Frank warned.

âWeâll outsmart our enemies,â Tony vowed.

Chet levered the last piece of pie from his plate into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed with a blissful expression. Then he put out a hand and pushed on the railing, causing the hammock to sway back and forth.

âYou fellows can have the crooks,â he declared. âIâll stick to archaeology. The Aztecs lived in Mexico City, and had tons of gold. Iâd love to see their ancient masks.â

Frank shook his head. âYou may not have a chance, Chet. Our assignments are the Wakefield gold and the horse figurine Orlov wants back.â

Chet gave in. âWell, as long as I get to see somebodyâs gold. Aztec or Russian, itâs all the same difference.â

The others laughed. They were used to their stout friend making jokes when danger lay ahead.

The five spent the rest of the evening planning their expedition. The next morning they drove to the airport and caught a flight to Mexico City. Upon landing, Frank proposed that the group split up and see if they could find the plane from Wakefield.

Chet was to check with the tower, Biff and Tony were to talk to the pilots, and the Hardys would question the mechanics.

Chet went to the tower and discussed the mystery plane with the dispatcher.

âMexican airlines have many craft marked âMexico City,â â the man pointed out.

âThis is a private plane,â Chet replied. âIt flew down from the U.S.A. about a week ago.â

The dispatcher checked. âI have no record of the one you describe,â he said.

Meanwhile, Biff and Tony had been circulating through the offices of the airlines, questioning pilots. None could tell them anything about an aircraft marked âMexico City.â

Frank and Joe had better luck. The fifth mechanic they interviewed had serviced a private plane with that marking. Its pilot was a young man.

âI heard him mention Palango,â the mechanic said.

âPalango?â Joe asked. âWhat does that mean?â

âI think itâs an archaeological term. Better ask Professor Carlos Alvarez at the university. He can tell you all about archaeological digs around here.â

âThanks for the info,â Frank said.

He and Joe held a conference near one of the runways. Planes took off and landed, taxiing up to the terminal. Crews removed baggage as lines of passengers alighted.

âItâs sure noisy here,â Joe said.

They walked to a hangar servicing private planes. A small aircraft stood near them on the runway, ready for takeoff. They could see the pilot checking his instruments.

While they were talking, Chet joined them. Biff and Tony came up at the same time.

âNo luck,â Chet reported.

âWe drew a blank, too,â Biff said.

Frank told them not to worry. âWe got a clue from one of the mechanics.â

âThe plane was here, and the pilot mentioned the word Palango,â Joe added. âProfessor Alvarez at the university might be able to tell us what that means.â

âYou see?â Chet said triumphantly to Biff and Tony. âThe Hardys always get their man. Theyâll find the gold!â

His words were overheard by the pilot of the small plane near them. He had just climbed out of the cockpit and proved to be a hulking figure in overalls. He carried a long wrench in his right hand.

The man stared at the boys, his brows furrowed. Then he sidled up to them. âWhat are you guys doing here?â he scowled. âAnd who are you?â

âWho are you?â Biff retorted boldly.

âMy nameâs Murphy, and they donât call me Rumble for nothing. Understand?â

âUnderstand,â Chet said hastily. He was not about to tangle with a man carrying a wrench.

âWhat are you after?â the pilot demanded.

âGold,â Chet said.

âIt has to do with Palango,â Joe put in.

Rumble Murphy stepped toward them. Glowering, he slapped the wrench menacingly against the palm of his left hand. âYouâd better go home right now if you want to stay healthy!â

CHAPTER IX

Chetâs Mistake

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RUMBLE Murphy brandished his wrench. Chet stepped back for fear of being hit, but Tony stood still, his hands on his hips. Biff assumed a karate stance.

âThat sounds like a threat!â Frank said.

âIt is a threat!â Murphy snapped.

âWhat do you mean?â Joe asked.

âYouâll find out soon enough if you butt in where youâre not wanted.â

Joe stepped forward and looked the pilot straight in the eye. âCome on, Murphy!â he demanded. âWhy are you threatening us?â

The manâs answer was a punch that struck Joe on the jaw. Joe staggered backward and toppled over. Biff and Tony caught him as he fell.

Murphy ran to his plane and jumped in. The boys raced after him. Suddenly Frank shouted, âHit the ground!â

They all plunged face downward on the runway. A landing plane sped toward them. They felt a gust of air as one wing passed over them with inches to spare! Shakily, the boys got to their feet.

âLucky you shouted, Frank,â Biff said, âor we would have been mowed down.â

They watched helplessly as Rumble Murphy took off. He became airborne and vanished into the clouds scudding across the sky.

âMurphyâs a real pro when it comes to flying,â Frank observed.

Joe rubbed his jaw. âMy guess is heâs a boxer,â he said. âThat guy hit me really hard with that haymaker.â

The boys walked to the airport terminal.

âWe must find out about Palango,â Tony remarked.

âLetâs set up an appointment with Professor Alvarez,â Frank suggested.

Biff clapped Chet on the shoulder. âYouâre the expert on archaeology, Chet. We elect you to contact the professor.â

Chet grinned. âIâll be glad to. Just lead me to the phone.â

He made the call to the university. Alvarez said he would welcome the visitors next morning.

The boys claimed their baggage and took a taxi to the hotel at which they had chosen to stay. After freshening up, they decided to use their free time sightseeing.

In the lobby, Frank inquired at the desk about a guide, and soon a wiry Mexican with wavy black hair appeared.

âYou want to see Me-hee-co?â he asked the travelers with a friendly grin. âMy name is Juan and my car is outside. It will cost you only a few pesos.â

They made a deal with the guide, who led them to an old auto with crumpled fenders and a crack in the windshield.

âThis must be fifty years old,â Joe presumed. His companions were thinking the same thing. Feeling somewhat dubious about its reliability, they climbed in.

Juan started the engine, which wheezed and then made a put-putting sound that seemed about to choke off at any moment. He released the brake and chugged away from the hotel, dispensing tourist information as they rattled along.

First he took them through Mexico Cityâs main square. âThe Zocalo,â he informed his passengers. âOur great plaza.â

The area was dominated by the cathedral. They saw the national palace, the library, the School of Fine Arts, and other public buildings in and around the plaza.

Traffic whizzed every which way. Their guide stepped on the gas and headed into it. His passengers braced themselves as he raced ahead of one car and braked sharply to avoid another.

âChet, this is worse than your jalopy!â Biff muttered out of the comer of his mouth.

They reached a beautiful broad boulevard. The car bumped along past trees, office buildings, crowds of pedestrians, and benches where tourists and citizens relaxed. Next came the markets of Mexico City, colorful areas with shops and outdoor stalls. Most of the vendors were selling fruits and vegetables.

In the Merced Market, Chet tapped the driver on the shoulder and told him to stop. Juan pulled into a side street.

âWhatâs up, Chet?â Frank asked.

âCome on. Iâll show you.â

They got out and followed him as he walked to a stall with succulent Mexican dishes. The aroma of tacos, tortillas, enchiladas, and chili filled their nostrils. Chet closed his eyes and inhaled rapturously.

âWe might have known,â Joe said with a chuckle. âChet never passes up any chow.â

âIâm with him this time,â Frank said.

The rest echoed the sentiment. They ordered a tortilla for each, including the driver, then strolled around the market, examining stall after stall. Juan talked to them animatedly, and occasionally conversed with the merchants in Spanish.

Chet, Biff, and Tony paused to look at some prints of Mexico City. Frank and Joe wandered down a side street into a dingy alley.

âSeÃ±ores, permit me to tell your fortune!â The speaker was an old woman with piercing black eyes and a black lace veil over her hair. Her shop had an astrological chart of the heavens on the open door. âSeÃ±ores, only a few pesos!â she urged them.

They went in and found her shelves covered with curiosâherbs to be distilled for poisons, signs of the zodiac, and dolls with pins stuck in them.

The woman grabbed Joeâs hand and began to read his palm. âYou have had a recent misfortune,â she said in a singsong voice.

Joe rubbed his jaw, which was still sore from Rumble Murphyâs punch. âRight,â he replied.

Frank extended his hand. âHow about reading my future?â he suggested.

The woman surveyed his palm. Her eyes narrowed. âWhat do I see here?â

âThatâs what I want to know,â Frank said.

âMuch gold!â

The Hardys were startled. They tried to query the woman. Finding she would say no more, they paid her and left the shop.

âCould she know about the gold weâre after?â Joe wondered.

âAnythingâs possible,â was Frankâs opinion.

The Mexican guide continued the sightseeing tour by driving to Chapultepec Park, a broad green area of woods and a lagoon, where entire families were enjoying the outdoors. Children played amid multicolored shrubs, bushes, and flowers. Fountains spouted water.

âChapultepec,â the guide said. âThat word means âgrasshopperâ in the Aztec language.â

His battered car huffed and puffed as he pointed it up the hill. At the top he parked in the grounds of Chapultepec Castle, a white stone building with rounded arches and a tall oblong tower. A piece of sculpture on the terrace represented a huge grasshopper.

Inside, the visitors were streaming through the various halls. The boys from Bayport joined them. They saw costumes worn in Mexico City since Aztec times and the apartment once occupied by Emperor Maximilian, who ruled Mexico during the American Civil War.

âWhat happened to Emperor Max?â Joe asked.

âWe shot him,â Juan said laconically.

They climbed up to the roof garden for a view of Chapultepec Park. Frank turned his head. A man with gray hair, wearing a dark suit, was on the other side of the garden. He held a briefcase! Frank tapped Joe on the shoulder and pointed.

âZemog!â Joe gasped.

The brothers pushed through the crowd, turning and twisting in the press of bodies. At one point they were stopped by a solid wall of visitors and had to detour around them. Struggling and panting, they inched forward. At last they got to the other side.

âI see much gold!â the woman said.

The suspect was gone!

Frank and Joe hurried through the rest of the castle, only to draw a blank in every hall. They ran out to the terrace. Zemog was not there either.

âThis is getting ridiculous,â Joe fumed. âZemog pops up in the craziest places, and when we follow him, he dissolves into thin air!â

âWe let him escape again, as Orlov would put it,â Frank agreed. âWhich isnât saying much for us!â

âIâm beginning to think itâs Zemogâs ghost whoâs giving us this problem.â Joe chuckled.

The boys strolled around the terrace until they found Juan and their friends.

âWhat happened?â Biff asked. âYou took off so fast we didnât even have a chance to offer our help!â

âWe think we saw Zemog again,â Frank explained. âAnd as usual, he escaped.â

âWhat do we do now?â Chet asked.

âI think we should finish our sightseeing tour at police headquarters,â Joe suggested.

Everyone agreed, and Juan took them to their destination. The boys thanked him for the tour, paid him, and went inside.

The sergeant at the desk spoke English well and listened to their problem with interest. He checked his records for Zemog, but found nothing.

âZemog is not a Mexican name,â the sergeant said. âUnless he uses an alias, we should be able to track him down without too much difficulty. I will check all the hotels and see what I can learn.â

The boys returned to their hotel for the night. After breakfast the next morning, they taxied to the university to meet Carlos Alvarez. The professorâs office was lined with rows of books on archaeology.

He identified Palango at once. âIt is an archaeological site not far from the great ruins of ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡ on the peninsula of YucatÃ¡n. Palango was recently discovered and digging has just begun. It lies in the same area as a lost pyramid of the Mayas. Fifty years ago a hunter reported seeing the pyramid. But since then, every attempt to find it has failed. What is your interest in Palango?â

Frank said that somebody might have flown gold from Mexico City to Palango.

Alvarez was puzzled. âI donât know why anyone would do that. Usually it is the other way around.â

He gave them a little lecture on gold, noting that the Aztecs molded it into fine art pieces. âTheir artifacts are so good many people cannot tell the difference between Aztec and Scythian.â

Chet puffed out his chest. âOh, I can always tell Aztec stuff!â he boasted.

Alvarez smiled. He took a small piece of gold representing the head of a child from his drawer. âWhat do you make of that, my friend?â

Chet hefted the gold in his hand. âThatâs Aztec, all right.â

âNo, it comes from the Inca civilization down in Peru,â Alvarez corrected him.

Chet turned red in the face. His companions snickered, but Alvarez was indulgent. âAn easy mistake to make.â He soothed Chetâs feelings.

That ended the session with the professor. The boys, deciding to run down the Palango angle at once, went to the airport and chartered a plane to fly them to YucatÃ¡n.

Three hours later they were on their way. The pilot flew across central Mexico, took the long leg of the journey across the Gulf, and zoomed past the shoreline over the jungle, thick with trees and tropical vegetation.

Suddenly the engine began to sputter. The boys looked at one another in alarm.

âWhatâs happening?â Frank asked tensely.

âI donât know,â the pilot replied. âI had everything checked out before we left. But this is definitely trouble.â

He worked the controls frantically. But it was of no use. The engine quit and the plane nose-dived toward the jungle!

CHAPTER X

The Boa Constrictor

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DowN, down they plunged! The jungle seemed to be rushing up to meet them and presently they could see the upper branches of the trees!

The pilot fought desperately to bring his plane out of its nose-dive. At the last moment, the engine came to life, and he regained control. They swooped down, then climbed just above the trees. Now he was able to zoom back to a safe altitude.

The pilot mopped his brow. âI donât understand what happened. I double-checked everything before we left Mexico City.â

âCould be somebody doesnât want us to get to Palango,â Frank observed in a shaky voice.

The plane flew across YucatÃ¡n and came down for a landing at MÃ©rida, the main city in the northern Mayan region. The boys climbed out. All were shaken by the near crash.

âT-t-terra firma for me,â Chet stuttered.

âFor me, too,â Biff added.

âThe Mayas had the right idea,â Tony said. âThey never fooled around with planes.â

The Hardys tried to cheer their pals. âWe got here, didnât we?â Joe pointed out.

âBetter than hacking our way through the jungle,â Frank declared.

The pilot inspected his plane. âSomebody tampered with the engine,â he said grimly. âIâll have to repair it.â

His passengers checked with airport officials to see if anybody had seen a private plane marked âMexico City.â Nobody had, so the boys decided to go right on to Palango. Frank rented a jeep and drove to ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡. All of them marveled at the ruins of temples and pyramids that once were the center of the Mayan culture of northern YucatÃ¡n. They asked a policeman about Palango.

âTake the dirt road northeast,â the man replied, âand then follow the jungle trail. The Palango dig is at the end of it.â

The boys set out, with Biff at the wheel of the jeep. The dirt road ended and the jungle trail began. It was so rough and bumpy through the dense tropical vegetation that they felt sore and bruised. Even well-padded Chet complained. âIâm not made to be a rubber ball,â he said.

Biff shifted into low gear. âWe should have rented a Sherman tank,â he grumbled.

Joe laughed. âHow about a swamp buggy?â

The jeep jounced over a large bush. An enormous hole loomed directly ahead! Biff stepped on the brake and the jeep halted at the edge of the hole with a jerk that nearly sent Chet flying over the windshield.

Frank pointed to a pile of fresh earth beside the trail. âSomebody dug that hole recently. I wonderââ

A splintering sound interrupted him. A giant tree beside the trail began to sway. It toppled toward the jeep!

Biff reacted instantly. He stepped on the gas, wrenched the wheel to the left, and scooted into the jungle undergrowth flanking the trail just before the tree fell with a crash. The boys ducked as the branches lashed over the jeep. Then Biff cut back out onto the trail beyond the hole and stopped.

He sighed with relief. âAnyone hurt?â he asked.

The others said no, then Frank proposed that they look around before going on.

The boys walked to the fallen tree. As Chet inspected the tangle of heavy branches, he remarked, âItâs lucky we got out from under.â

âThe tree would have smashed us,â Tony agreed.

âLook at the trunk!â Joe declared.

It had been chopped nearly all the way through!

âSomeone was setting a trap for us!â Tony exclaimed.

Frank nodded. âHe dug the hole to make us stop, cut the tree with an ax till it was barely standing, and then pushed it over to make it topple on us.â

Biff clenched his fists. âThat means he must still be around here somewhere. Iâll take him over the hurdles!â

He ran back up the trail. Frank and Joe took the underbrush on one side, Chet and Tony the other. The boys scouted through the area but found nothing except scuffed footprints near the base of the fallen tree.

âHe got away!â Biff lamented.

âWe may as well call off our search,â Joe said. âIt would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, only this haystack is the YucatÃ¡n jungle.â

An hour later the group bounced into Palango. A Mayan temple had been partially reclaimed, and nearby a deep excavation revealed further work in progress. Several tents had been set up in a cleared area. Four Americans were there along with a dozen Mexicans, descendants of the Mayas, who had been recruited to help with the dig.

The leader of the archaeological expedition came forward to meet them. He was tall and handsome with black wavy hair. âIâm Steve Weiss,â he introduced himself. âItâs a surprise to see you. Usually visitors donât get this far in the jungle.â

Frank explained that he and his companions were trying to find gold.

âWe have already found quite a bit!â said a voice behind them.

The boys turned to see a man wearing white shorts and a pith helmet. He had a superior smile on his face, as if to say that he was doing the visitors a favor by speaking to them. He carried a swagger stick, which he slapped against his leather boot.

âIâm Melville Courtney, assistant archaeologist on the dig,â he announced. âIâm also a Hawkins man.â

âHe means Hawkins College,â Joe thought.

âWe have already found gold, son,â Courtney repeated, âand are scarcely in need of your assistance on that score. The Mayas buried the gold. We retrieved it after much exertion and loss of perspiration.

âIâm sure you realize,â Courtney continued, âthat your help would be superfluous.â

âA job is not what we have in mind,â Frank told him.

âDo you have armadillos in mind?â asked a woman who had just walked up. She was short, had golden hair, and a heart-shaped face. She wore a denim shirt and slacks.

âRose Renda, our biologist,â Steve Weiss introduced her. âShe just joined us a few days ago.â

âIâm an armadillo freak,â Rose declared.

Chet scratched his head and gave her a blank look. âArmadillo freak?â

âAs you no doubt know,â Rose explained, âan armadillo is an armored animal native to these parts. Itâs about five feet long from snout to tail in the biggest species. The armor on its back is approximately three feet long. The problem Iâm researching is this: how is the armadillo related to the glyptodon?â

Now Tony looked blank. âWhatâs a glyptodon?â

Rose smiled. âYou mean, what was a glyptodon? It lived millions of years before the armadillo, was about nine feet long, and had five feet of armor. The armor was completely smooth, and had a number of hinges that permitted it to turn more easily.â

âAnd you want to find out how the glyptodon evolved into the armadillo?â Tony asked.

âYes,â Rose replied.

A man carrying a rifle joined the party. He was over six feet tall, slim, and quiet.

âThis is Frank Pendleton,â Rose said, âour jungle guide. He knows everything about this area.â

âI should after twenty years,â Pendleton said, smiling.

âI take it you hunt, too?â Tony said with a glance at the manâs rifle.

âNo. The gun is strictly for self-defense against the dangerous animals of YucatÃ¡n and the jungles south of Brazil. Iâve seen them all.â

âYou mean jaguars?â Biff asked.

âThat, and big snakesâboa constrictors, for instance.â

Chet grimaced. âI hope I donât meet one.â

âYou never can tell what you may meet in the jungle,â the guide responded. âIââ

âTime for chow,â Weiss interrupted.

Melville Courtney slapped his swagger stick against his boot again. âDinner is indeed served, such as it is,â he said in his high-pitched voice. âK rations and coffee. Really!â

âHowever you say it,â Weiss laughed, âweâre all ready to eat.â He invited the Bayporters to share their fare, and they sat in a circle on the ground.

After a while Frank asked, âHas anybody here seen a private plane marked âMexico Cityâ? Weâre trying to find it.â

No one had.

Joe put the next question to the group. âHave you ever met a man named Pedro Zemog?â

Again, everyone said no.

âRumble Murphy?â

As the men shook their heads, Rose said, âWhy are you looking for these people?â

âBecause weâre trying to solve the mystery of a gold theft,â Joe replied. He told the group about the Wakefield heist and the theft of the ancient horse from the Scythian collection.

Courtney coughed. âMr. Zemog and Mr. Murphy are obviously not gentlemen,â he stated. âI would not care to associate with them.â

âBut theyâre part of our mystery,â Joe pointed out.

âI donât think youâll solve your mystery here,â Weiss said. âThereâs no reason for these gold thieves to bring their loot down here. Theyâd stick to Mexico City.â

Rose lowered her coffee cup. âIt looks as if you boys have come a long way for nothing.â

Chet grinned. âNot me. I want to look at the Mayan gold you found, because Iâm adept in gold artifacts.â

âWhat in the world is that?â Rose asked.

Chet explained his correspondence-course diploma.

Courtney gave him a supercilious look. âThat is not like a degree from Hawkins,â he stated.

Chet looked hurt.

âWell, itâs an interesting title,â Steve Weiss interjected to make Chet feel better. âSure, you can see our gold. The Mayas buried it to keep the Spaniards from getting it. Palango was once a thriving Mayan city. It was subordinate to ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡, which you passed through to get here. You must have seen the temple-pyramid there.â

âYes, we did,â Frank said.

âWell,â the archaeologist continued, âChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡ also had its Temple of the Warriors, its Court of the Thousand Columns, and its Observatory.â

âObservatory?â Tony asked. âDid those people study astronomy?â

âOh, sure, and in a big way. They kept records of the stars and planets so they could be sure their Mayan calendar was accurate. They needed to know which days of the year to hold their religious festivals and other ceremonies.â

âPalango was minor compared to ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡,â Pendleton put in. âBut it did have a pyramidâthe lost pyramid.â

âBoy, how can you lose a pyramid?â Biff quipped. âKind of careless.â

Rose laughed. âThe fact is that jungle growth covers everything in a few years.â

Weiss nodded. âAnd the jungleâs had almost five hundred years to cover the pyramid. When the trees, moss, vines, and creepers have done their work, you can walk within yards of a Mayan building and never spot it.â

Pendleton continued. âWe know the lost pyramid is about twenty miles from here because a hunter spotted it fifty years ago. But he didnât give the location. Even if we knew that, it would be very hard to hack our way through the jungle. Thereâs the vegetation, the heat, and the insects. As things are, every attempt to find the pyramid has failed because itâs like looking for a minnow in the Gulf of Mexico.â

âWe may never discover it,â Rose added, âbut we expect to run into a lot of armadillos. The jungle here must be loaded with them.â

âIt is,â Pendleton assured her. âWeâll go out after armadillo tomorrow. Like to go along with us, fellows? You can help capture one.â

Biff spoke for them all. âThat would be great!â

Weiss dug into the camp stores for more tents. Frank and Joe pitched the one they would share on the edge of the clearing near the Mayan temple. Branches of large trees, which surrounded the ancient building, were festooned with trailing moss, giving the scene an eerie look.

The Hardys said good night to their friends and were sound asleep when they were awakened by a terrified shout from Biffâs tent. It woke up others in the camp and brought footsteps pounding in his direction.

Joe snapped on his pocket flashlight and opened the flap of his friendâs shelter.

âBiff, whatâs wrong?â he asked.

âOn the ground!â Biff cried.

Joe trained the beam of his light lower. A long sinuous form was coiled just inside the door of Biffâs tent. The reptile raised its head in a menacing stare and started to hiss.

âItâs a boa constrictor!â Chet bellowed. âThat thing will squeeze him to death!â

CHAPTER XI

A Mysterious Shot

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BIFF crouched at the rear of his tent and eyed the big snake apprehensively. His friends formed a semicircle at the open flap of the canvas, not daring to get too close. The boa constrictor Nicked its tongue menacingly.

âWhatâll we do?â Chet wailed.

âStep aside!â a woman ordered. Rose Renda walked into the tent. She was carrying a large burlap bag, the mouth of which she opened by releasing a draw-string. Just then three Mexican workmen, alerted by Pendleton because of their experience in handling snakes, joined the group.

The jungle guide teased the boa constrictor with a stick until it struck ferociously. As its head hit the ground, Pendletonâs hand flashed out and closed on the neck just behind the head.

Two of the other men grabbed the reptile around the body, while the third seized the lashing tail. The four lifted the boa off the ground and dropped it, tail first, into the open burlap bag that Rose was holding. Then they crammed in the sinuous body, and finally Pendleton shoved the head, instantly pulling his hand away. Rose drew the mouth of the bag taut.

âThis will make a fine addition to the Mexico City Zoo,â she commented.

âThe zoo can have it,â Biff muttered.

Pendleton told everybody to go back to sleep and stop worrying. âItâs almost unheard of for a snake of this size to invade an archaeological dig,â he told them.

âThis one,â said Frank, âmust have lost its way.â

âPoor, crazy mixed-up snake,â Joe said with a grin.

That broke up the tension and all the boys went back to their tents. In the morning, they joined Rose, Pendleton, and Courtney on a trek into the jungle in search of an armadillo. Pendleton wore the rough clothes and floppy hat of an experienced jungle guide. Courtney appeared in spotless white ducks, wearing his pith helmet and carrying his swagger stick.

âMelville, youâd better leave your helmet behind,â Pendleton urged.

âItâs part of oneâs dress in hot climates,â was the reply. âI wish to dress correctly.â

âThatâs when youâre out in the sun. Weâll be under the trees and youâll need air. Youâll be too hot with a helmet on.â

Courtney insisted on wearing his helmet, however, so the guide shrugged and dropped the subject.

The party started their trek into the steaming jungle. Frank and Joe decided to say nothing but to keep their eyes open for a plane flying overhead. They might spot the one they suspected!

Soon they found themselves under a dense canopy of greenery. Branches, vines, moss, and creepers blotted out the sun. Much of the time the trekkers had to hack their way through with machetes. Birds and monkeys screamed at them from the trees, and weasels and other small creatures fled through the underbrush at their approach.

Insects stung them and sweat poured down their faces. As Pendleton had predicted, Courtney felt the heat worst of all because of his helmet.

âDitch it!â the guide advised.

âA Hawkins man never gives up,â Courtney replied.

âHave it your way, but we have quite a distance to go before we reach armadillo country.â

They slogged forward, taking regular breaks since it was so difficult to advance. Late in the afternoon, the guide suggested, âLetâs call it a day.â The others willingly agreed. They opened crackers and tinned meat, and ate dinner.

Then Rose gave a talk on armadillos. âTheyâre rarely found together,â she stated. âWhen we spot an armadillo, weâll run him to earth. Heâll try to reach the security of his burrow before you get there. If you head him off, heâll roll up into a ball and stay put.â

âWhy does he do that?â Tony queried.

Rose smiled. âHe hopes that whoever is bothering him will get tired of waiting for him to uncurl and go away.â

âWhat are the chances of finding one tomorrow?â Chet asked.

âPretty good. YucatÃ¡n has been the home of the armadillo for thousands of years. According to a Mayan myth vultures turn into armadillos when they grow old. There are plenty left here.â

In the morning, the march resumed. Insects swarmed around the hunters and Frank swatted a mosquito. âTheyâre as big as robins,â he complained.

âBig as crows,â Joe corrected him, knocking one off his cheek.

After hours of pushing through the jungle, Rose noticed an anthill that had been broken open. âAn armadillo did that,â she said, excited. âAnts are number one on his menu.â

Pendleton told the group to split up. âLook under bushes and in burrows. If you flush an armadillo, sing out. The rest of us will come on the run.â

Courtney slapped his swagger stick against a tree. âI will direct the capture,â he offered.

âIâll bet he will,â Frank whispered to Joe. âHeâs not about to touch an armadillo.â

They separated to look for their quarry. Rose tried to pick up a trail at the ravaged anthill. Pendleton continued straight ahead in the direction they had been taking. Courtney stabbed into the bushes with his swagger stick, looking as if he hoped never to see an armadillo in his life.

Chet, Biff, and Tony moved beyond Courtney into the jungle. Frank and Joe went to the left. âThereâs one thing we wonât find in here,â Frank remarked.

âWhatâs that?â

âThe Mexico City plane. You couldnât fit even a helicopter into this jungle with a shoehorn.â

âThatâs right. Well, letâs concentrate on the armadillo.â

They split up. Frank vanished among some moss-laden trees. Joe took a route over a carpet of jungle vegetation. The undergrowth slowed him considerably. Vines caught his clothing, and creepers tripped him. A green parrot fluttered down onto a bush and squawked at him angrily, but he laughed as a hare stood upright on its hind legs, twitching its nose as he passed.

Presently Joe found an armadillo burrow, which he probed with a branch. It was empty. He went on, but after a while his legs were tired. He paused beside a tree in an open space of the jungle to rest. Wham! A rock slammed into the tree, inches from his head! It bounced off and caromed into a thicket.

Joe hit the ground in a headlong dive. He crawled over a tangle of creepers and pulled himself into a crouching position behind another tree. Gingerly he peered around the trunk. No one was in sight.

A sharp report cut through the stillness of the jungle. A shot! It had come from behind him! Joe dodged into the underbrush and stealthily moved in an arc toward the spot where the shot had been fired. He saw no one.

His companions had heard the shot, and ran up to see what had happened.

âSomebody used me for a clay pigeon,â Joe told them. âHe fired right at me!â

Frank turned to Pendleton. âYouâre the only one carrying a weapon. Did you fire at Joe?â

âOf course not.â The jungle guide strenuously denied the charge. He opened the breech of his rifle. âLook for yourself. It hasnât been fired.â

âWho could it be, then?â Biff wondered.

Tony sighed. âWeâre obviously not the only ones here in the wilderness.â

âMaybe it was a Mayan hunter after armadillo,â Pendleton suggested. âMayas love armadillo steaks.â

âOr the guy who dug the hole and tried to conk us with a tree,â Frank said to Joe in a low voice. âMatter of fact, thatâs more likely.â

âThat would mean weâre being watched constantly,â Joe said in alarm.

Frank nodded. âIt is a possibility.â

The searchers began beating the undergrowth. An armadillo, evidently startled, bolted from behind a rock. It was about three feet long, with a pointed snout, long ears, and a long tail. The armor fitted over its back like a half shell.

The animal hit Biff a hard blow on the ankles, knocking him off his feet, then raced past. Everybody chased the armadillo, careening and stumbling through the jungle undergrowth.

The creature veered into Chetâs path. As he lunged for it, his foot caught in a creeper, and he fell with a crash. The Hardys, too close behind him to stop, piled on top of the stout boy in a tangle of arms and legs. Frantically they scrambled to their feet and resumed the chase.

The armadillo did an about-face and raced between them. It plowed into Courtney, bowling the Hawkins man over. His pith helmet rolled into the underbrush. He got to his feet slowly, retrieved the helmet, brushed it with his sleeve, and placed it on his head, looking embarrassed.

âI shanât associate with any armadillo,â he declared, seating himself on a stump and rapping it with his swagger stick. âI will wait here.â

The animal reached its burrow, but Pendleton, too quick for it, seized the armadillo and pulled it out, kicking and squealing. The creature resisted briefly before quieting down in the guideâs arms.

The other searchers arrived. The boys stroked the armor, which was composed of hide with a series of plates around the body, giving it flexibility.

âSo thatâs an armadillo!â Tony marveled.

âYes indeed,â Rose answered. She scratched its ears with her fingertips.

âIsnât that dangerous?â Chet asked apprehensively. âYou might lose a finger.â

Rose shook her head. âArmadillos have few or no front teeth, so they canât bite.â She held the animal while Pendleton took a collapsible wire cage from his pack. They eased their captive into it and the jungle guide pulled the straps over his shoulders. The cage rode easily on his back.

âMission accomplished,â Pendleton said.

âRight-o!â Courtney exclaimed. âWe may now leave this jungle, of which I have had quite enough.â

Frank spoke. âIâd like to scout around here a bit longer.â

Joe and his friends agreed enthusiastically, but Pendleton objected. âWeâll have to get back to the dig. Do you want to stay here alone?â

âIs there any reason why we shouldnât?â

âNot really. Weâre on an elevation where the mosquitoes arenât bad. I donât think youâll see any dangerous animals, either. Can you find your way back to camp?â

âSure,â Frank said. âWeâll go by the compass. Since we came from a northeasterly direction, weâll return that way.â

âGood enough,â Pendleton replied. âYou stay then, and weâll be on our way.â

Courtney doffed his pith helmet. âAdios,â he said solemnly, and Rose waved good-by.

As the three explorers disappeared into the jungle, their footsteps died away in the distance.

The boys walked in the opposite direction, noting the jungle flowers and animals as they went.

âThere are a million monkeys here,â Biff judged.

âAnd a billion parrots,â Tony added.

âWhat do we do if we meet any Mayas?â Joe asked.

âTalk Mayan to them,â Frank quipped.

By nightfall the boys were extremely tired. Making a hasty meal of their rations, they set up camp beneath towering trees.

Frank could not sleep. He kept thinking about the strange events that had taken Joe and him to Switzerland, then to the jungles of YucatÃ¡n. It appeared that they were finally onto a clueâthe plane marked âMexico City.â But where was it?

He sat up and turned his head. Everything was pitch black. Suddenly through the darkness he saw a light. It moved in a circle and went out. Frank rubbed his eyes.

The light flashed once more, swaying back and forth for a few minutes, then went out again. In a moment the signal was repeated a third time.

Now fully awake, Frank reached over and shook his brother.

Joe yawned. âWhat is it, Frank?â

âA light out there! Look!â

The beam remained stationary for a few seconds. Then it started moving once more, vanished, and reappeared a moment later.

Frank jumped up. âHurry, Joe, weâll have to find out what this means!â He grabbed his compass and the two slipped through the jungle, guiding themselves by the mysterious light. After about half a mile, they reached a clearing.

The full moon revealed a weird sight. A stone building covered with jungle vegetation towered toward the sky. The vines and creepers spreading up the uncanny edifice from base to summit seemed like writhing serpents and disguised the building completely. The mysterious beam came from the summit.

âThatâs a flashlight!â Joe said in a low voice. âSomebodyâs up there. Whatâs he doing, Frank?â

âJoe, I believe heâs signaling a pal. But why?â

CHAPTER XII

The Jungle Pyramid

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THE Hardys entered the clearing and cautiously approached the eerie edifice. It was more than a hundred feet high, tapered toward the summit, with indented rows of stone steps rising from the bottom to the top. The base was formed of massive stone blocks. On the summit stood a temple.

âIâll bet itâs the lost pyramid!â Frank gaped.

âNo wonder it got lost,â Joe whispered. âRose was right. The jungle covers everything!â

Close up, they could see where winds had blown earth over the stone blocks. The seeds of plants, vines, creepers, shrubs, and flowers had imbedded themselves in the earth and sprouted in profusion.

Joe looked up toward the light on the summit. âLetâs find out whatâs going on,â he whispered.

âEasy does it,â Frank counseled. âWe donât want to scare the person off. First weâll explore the ground around the pyramid. Whoever is up there might be signaling an accomplice down here.â

Stealthily the two boys slunk past the staircase in the center of the facade, noting that it lead up to the temple entrance. As they turned the corner, Joe bumped into an upright slab of stone covered with raised squares and bearing strange symbols.

âGlyphs,â he thought.

They went on with their search. At the back of the pyramid, they saw the carved figure of a monstrous snake undulating down over the stone blocks. Eyes of obsidian glinted at them in the semidarkness. The open mouth revealed oversized fangs. Plumes bedecked the head and neck.

âThe Feathered Serpent of the Mayas!â Frank said.

He and Joe had seen statues of this mythical creature many times since their arrival in Mexico. They knew it was the principal god of the Indians who had lived in Mexico before Columbus came to America.

Circling the pyramid, the boys returned to their starting point. âNobody down here but us,â Joe said in a low voice.

The light was still showing on the summit. Suddenly, at the door of the temple, it went out.

âThe manâs gone inside,â Frank observed. âThis is our chance.â

Slipping and sliding, the Hardys silently climbed the steps to the top of the pyramid. Frank edged his way into the entrance of the temple. They did not see the light, and he whispered, âMaybe there are inner stairs to the top.â

âThen we can take him by surprise,â Joe said. He stepped forward, feeling his way along the wall. The boys did not want to use their pencil flashlights because they might alert the person inside to the fact that they were stalking him.

Suddenly Joe plummeted out of sight!

âJoe!â Frank whispered hoarsely. âJoe! Where are you? Joelâ

Receiving no answer, Frank fished out his light and played the beam across the interior. At his feet the edge of a long stone incline dropped into utter darkness. Frank was horrified. Had Joe plunged down into a Mayan dungeon? If so, he might be hurt! He might be unconscious! He might even beâ! âJoe!â he called. âAre you all right?â

Then he heard Joeâs voice behind him. âIâm okay, Frank. I just took a ride on a Mayan roller coaster!â

Frank breathed easier.

âItâs leading outside to the steps in the back,â Joe continued. âI landed next to the Feathered Serpent. He didnât blink an eye.â

Frank kept the beam of his flashlight shining over the end of the inclined plane. The boys decided it must have been used to lever heavy objects up to the higher levels of the pyramid.

âNo freight elevators for the Mayas,â Joe joked. âThey did everything with muscle.â

âNot so loud!â Frank warned. He played his beam around the lower chamber of the temple. It flashed over a pile of clay pots and stone figures in a corner.

âWhere are we?â Joe asked.

âIt looks like a storeroom, Joe. They kept supplies here until they were needed upstairs.â The flashlight crossed a tall stone column in the opposite corner. Frank brought it back into focus. The column was a rectangular stone block standing on end, about as tall as the boys. The same face was repeated four times from top to bottom, the visage of a large cat, its fangs bared in a savage snarl. âThe jaguar god,â Frank whispered.

âAs Chet would say, I hope I never meet up with him,â Joe said.

Frank now pointed his flashlight toward the ceiling. It showed row after row of petroglyphs, which they could not read.

âI understand,â Frank said, âthat Mayan script has not been completely deciphered yet.â

The Hardys circled the chamber. The only opening was a low doorway. Frank ducked under it, followed by Joe, into a small, empty room. A quick search showed it had no other outlet.

A rustle at the doorway made Frank snap off his flashlight. The boys whirled in the defensive stance of karate experts. The sound came directly toward them in the darkness!

The Hardys had a strategy for such confrontations. They counted silently to three, then Frank snapped on his light. At the same time, Joe leaped on the intruder. He received a whiplash across the face, and went down in a tangle of branches!

Frank chuckled in spite of the danger. âA bush! The wind blew it in here!â

Ruefully Joe extricated himself and got to his feet. âNext time, Iâll look before I leap!â he said.

The Hardys went back through the first chamber. âWeâll have to use the outer stairs to get to the top of the temple,â Frank declared. âI hope the guy inside wonât see or hear us.â

He pocketed his flashlight; then the boys went outside and maneuvered over to the staircase. The steps seemed to rise endlessly above them, steep and narrow. The footing was difficult, and clouds gathering across the face of the moon created a dark, murky atmosphere.

âDonât fall!â Frank muttered. âItâs a bumpy road to the ground.â

They got about a third of the way up, gripping vines to steady themselves and making sure of a foothold on every step, before they were interrupted. Something moved among the vines near Frankâs right hand. Pulling his fingers away, he got out his light and shone the beam on the fluttering leaves. A menacing snake raised its head, stared at him for a few seconds, then slithered onto the bough of a small tree. It vanished among the creepers.

Frank felt his heart pounding. He had almost placed his hand on a fer-de-lance, one of the most poisonous snakes of the YucatÃ¡n jungle!

âYouâre no snake charmer,â Joe whispered. âDonât fool around with our lethal companions.â

They resumed their climb. A black object hurtled through the air at them. Joe ducked in time to avoid getting hit on the head, but lost his footing and toppled off the step! Frank grabbed his brother in midair and held him until he could regain his foothold.

The trajectile veered to one side and landed on a bush. A harsh croak jarred their ears.

âA raven!â Frank whispered. âHe almost got us!â As they continued their climb close to the summit, Frank paused and looked up. The smoother stone of the temple gleamed through tangled tropical growth that sprouted on its roof and spilled down the sides, waving wildly in a rising wind. The entrance was a dark oblong in the front wall. Total silence reigned over the jungle pyramid.

Frank gestured to Joe not to make a sound. They moved slowly and carefully up the rest of the steps. The final one brought them to the sacrificial chamber. On it stood a platform with four feet on each side. The walls of the temple behind it were made of pink-red stone rising some twenty feet into the air. A doorway led into the interior, and blank walls extended on each side of the doorway. The roof was flat.

Frank and Joe stole to one side of the entrance and peered in cautiously. A shaft of moonlight gleamed through an opening in the opposite wall. There was no sign or sound of life in the temple.

âDo you think the guy heard us and ran?â Joe asked in a whisper.

âWell, if he did, letâs see what he was up to,â Frank said.

As the boys entered, Frank fumbled for his flashlight. Just then something rustled in a dark corner, and the next instant a man barreled out at them! He leveled Joe with a wild swing, then grappled with Frank!

The pair staggered back and forth in a furious test of strength until the assailant gave ground. Frank pressed him back. They swayed through the doorway and over to the staircase.

Joe recovered slowly from the blow. He felt woozy, but got to his feet. Then he realized he was alone in the temple. His brother and their attacker were gone!

âFrank!â he shouted. âFrank!â

The name echoed out over the jungle, but Frank did not answer. Frantically Joe rushed through the nearest doorway, which was the rear exit, and circled around the temple to the front.

There he could see Frank and the stranger still locked in combat! Joe rushed to help his brother, but before he could reach the spot, Frank and his attacker had lost their footing!

With a scream, they pitched down the main staircase and fell toward the bottom of the jungle pyramid!

CHAPTER XIII

A Strange Figure

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JoE leaped forward and clutched wildly at Frank, but his fingers missed by inches!

Three new shapes were suddenly visible on the steps in the moonlight. Three pairs of arms caught Frank and his antagonist in midair. With great relief, Joe recognized Chet, Biff, and Tony!

The boys pulled Frank free. He stood to one side, panting from his struggle, while Biff gripped his adversary in a bear hug. The two wrestled fiercely on the temple staircase.

The man tripped Biff, who tumbled into a tangle of creepers. The assailant leaped up the steps, but Tony brought him down with a tackle around the ankles. Chet sat on him and grinned.

âHad enough?â Chet inquired.

âChetâs a bit overweight,â Tony pointed out.

âIâcanâtellâthat!â the man gasped. âOkay. I give up!â

The boys pushed their captive up to the summit and backed him against the temple wall in the darkness.

âYou guys came just in time,â Frank said to his friends. âHow did you get here?â

Biff said he had awakened to discover that Frank and Joe were gone. âI noticed a light and figured you must have seen it, too. So I woke Chet and Tony and we decided to back you up in case you were in trouble. We found what we think is the lost pyramid, and we saw a hassle on the top.â

âWe came up the Mayan escalator,â Tony quipped. âStone blocks and leg power.â

Biff looked at their captive. âSay, who is this guy?â

Joe took out his pencil flashlight, snapped it on, and shone it in the manâs face.

Rumble Murphy!

âWhat are you doing here?â Frank asked the pilot.

âNone of your business!â Murphy grunted.

âLetâs tie him up,â Frank suggested. âOne of us can watch him, while the rest are searching the place. There should be some clue as to what our friend was doing in the pyramid.â

The boys handcuffed Murphy with Joeâs belt, and tied his ankles with Tonyâs. Biff volunteered to guard the pilot, while the others would go over the temple and pyramid with a fine-toothed comb, using their flashlights.

First they entered the section of the temple where they had been before. It had a high ceiling. A raised altar stood at one end and a row of stone idols at the other. Here the priests of the Mayan religion apparently had presided over ceremonies to the gods.

âWow!â Tony said as he played his light over the altar. âThis is where the Indians prayed to the jaguar god and the feathered serpent.â

Frank nodded. âRight now Iâm not interested in the feathered serpent, but in some clues to why Murphy was here.â

The boys looked in every nook and cranny, and were about to give up when Joe called out, âHey, fellows! Come over here!â

The others ran up to him. Joe pointed to a bulky sack concealed behind a statue of the jaguar god. Together, the boys dragged it into the center of the room.

âItâs heavy as lead!â Tony exclaimed.

Excited, they opened it.

âGold!â Chet cried in awe as they pulled out one object after another. First came a disc representing the sun. Small figurines followed. Finally there were dozens of ornamentsâheaddresses, bracelets, and rings.

âI donât believe it!â Frank said. âThis stuff is priceless!â

âAll Mayan,â Chet added. âIt takes an adept in golden artifacts to know that.â

Joe upended the sack and shook out the contents. âThe Scythian horse isnât here,â he said, a note of disappointment in his voice.

âThis stuff is priceless!â Frank said.

But Chet was ecstatic. âWho cares! You were looking for one little figurine, and see what youâve found instead!â

âNot the Wakefield gold, either,â Frank said.

âLetâs take one thing at a time,â Tony suggested, âand confront Rumble Murphy with the evidence. Maybe heâll enlighten us as to the origin of this treasure.â

âGood idea,â Frank said, and the boys began putting the glittering objects back into the sack.

âRemember the fortune-teller in Mexico City?â Joe asked his brother. âShe said there was much gold in your future. Maybe she meant this.â

Frank laughed. âWho knows?â

The boys carried the sack outside and showed it to Biff. Murphy mumbled under his breath.

âOkay, Murphy,â Frank said. âYou may as well tell us what this is all about.â

Murphy glared as his captors surrounded him menacingly.

âCome on, talk!â Biff hissed and moved his bulky figure closer to the pilot.

âAll right, all right,â Murphy grumbled. âI handle Mayan artifacts. Jeep them to ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡, then fly them out of Mexico for international buyers.â

âDid you ever see a figurine of a rearing horse?â Tony inquired. âA Scythian piece.â

Murphy shook his head. âI told you I handle only stuff thatâs found right here in MexicoâAztec, Mayan, Olmecâno Scythian gold.â

âHow did you find the pyramid?â Frank queried.

âI spotted it one day when I was flying low over the jungle. Later I discovered a way in by jeep from ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡. And I saw it was the perfect hideout because nobody else knew where it was, so I stored my loot here.â

Frank changed the line of questioning. âWhy did you threaten us at the airport in Mexico City?â

âBecause your fat friend said you were after my gold!â

âYour gold?â Frank was puzzled.

âHe said you always find your man, and youâd find the gold. I donât know anyone else smuggling gold around here, so I figured you were after me! Who do you work for, anyway?â

Frank grinned. âThe Wakefield Mint.â

âWhat!â

âNever mind. But we had nothing to do with you. If you hadnât signaled tonight, we would never have suspected you.â

Murphy mumbled again, but said nothing aloud.

Biff said, âYou were the one who dug the hole in the trail from ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡ and then caused the tree to tumble on us! You almost killed us!â

âI did no such thing,â Murphy grumbled, but the boys knew he was lying.

âAnd you tampered with the engine of our chartered plane,â Joe accused. âAfter you dug the hole you flew back to Mexico City and waited for us!â

âAnd you took a pot shot at Joe today,â Frank added.

Murphy did not reply.

âWhy were you signaling with the flashlight tonight?â Frank asked.

âWhat signal?â Murphy asked defiantly.

âDonât play dumb,â Frank said. âIf we hadnât seen your light, we never would have found you or the pyramid.â

âA buddy of mine Hies over here at night at a certain time to let me know if we found a buyer. I donât know which night heâs coming, so I signal, then he drops the instructions. He didnât show up tonight.â

âWhy did you take a chance with us so close by?â Tony asked.

âI didnât know you were still here,â Murphy said glumly. âI thought you had left with the others.â

By now the sun had begun to rise and a soft mist hung over the jungle.

âWhatâll we do with him?â Chet asked.

âMurphy must have a jeep around,â Frank replied. âWeâll have to deliver him to the nearest police station in ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡.â

Rumble Murphy looked at them with squinting eyes. âDo you have to be that drastic? Look, I could cut you in on the loot. This stuff is worth a bundle of money. If you donât want to handle it yourselves, Iâll pay you in cash. Fifty-fifty. What do you say?â

âNo,â Frank said laconically.

âAll right. Iâll give you seventy-five percent. Thatâs robbing me, but what can I do?â

âForget it, Murphy,â Joe said. âWeâre not thieves.â

âYouâre crazy! Do you realize what youâre turning down? Listen, Iâll give you everything, but donât take me to the cops!â

Frank ignored the plea. âWhereâs your jeep?â

Murphy realized that he had lost and started to scream at the top of his lungs. Suddenly he fell silent and would not utter another word.

âIâll go find the jeep,â Frank offered. âIt has to be around here somewhere. Hey, look!â

He pointed to a stranger entering the trampled area around the pyramid. He was a man dressed in the white suit worn by modern Mayas, with a wide-brimmed straw hat on his head. He edged around the pyramid in a suspicious manner.

âSo, thereâs your accomplice, Murphy!â Joe exclaimed. âLetâs meet him, gang. Biff, want to guard our friend again?â

âSure thing,â Biff replied as Frank, Joe, and Chet took the steps down as fast as they could, followed by Tony. They circled the pyramid, taking the direction opposite that used by the man in the white suit.

They met him at the corner. He had the light-copper coloring of an Indian. Lank black hair extended down to his shoulders. His cheeks were round and a scar ran across the right side of his face. He looked startled when he saw them.

âAre you looking for Rumble Murphy?â Joe asked.

The man responded in a rapid flow of Spanish. Though the boys had studied the language in high school, they could not follow him because he spoke so fast and with a strange inflection. Joe asked him to repeat slowly what he had just said, but the man stared at him blankly.

Chet had an idea. âLetâs try sign language,â he suggested. âIâll take it from here.â

He touched the man on the shoulder, turned, and pointed into the jungle. He made a long sweep with one arm toward the pyramid.

âWhat does that mean?â Joe wondered.

âIâm asking him where he comes from, and how he got here,â Chet explained.

âWell, you could have fooled me,â Joe said.

The man smiled, shrugged, and spoke again.

âWeâre getting nowhere fast,â Frank protested.

The boys decided to bring the man face to face with Murphy. One of them might give something away. They were discussing the best way to arrange the confrontation when the man suddenly spoke English.

âBayport seems to be on the ball!â

CHAPTER XIV

The Aztec War God

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THE boys gaped. The voice was unmistakably that of their father!

âDad!â Frank cried out. âI donât believe it!â He scrutinized the coppery face closely. Then he grinned. âI should have known. The color of your eyes doesnât fit your make-up!â

Mr. Hardy chuckled. âA bit of make-up and cheek pads can do a lot to change oneâs appearance. And I can always squint when necessary.â

âBut, Dad, we thought you were investigating the case in Wakefield,â Joe said. âWhatâs up?â

âItâs a long story,â Mr. Hardy said. âAnd it was John Armstrongâs idea.â

âYou mean he doesnât trust us?â Frank asked.

âWell, he thought you could use some reinforcement. Actually, he decided all of a sudden that I was wasting my time in Wakefield. Since he had some business in Mexico City, he asked me to come along. We left the day after you did. When we arrived, John took care of his appointment in the city, while I asked questions around the airport about the mysterious plane.â

âSame as we did,â Joe said. âAnd thatâs how you found out about Palango?â

âPalango? Whatâs that?â

âAn archaeological dig near here,â Frank said. âThatâs where we ended up.â

Mr. Hardy shook his head. âNo one mentioned Palango to me. But I was tipped off that Rumble Murphy was smuggling gold, so I hid in his plane all the way to MÃ©rida.â

âWow!â Chet looked at the detective in admiration. âNeat sleuthing!â

âWell, I almost lost him when we arrived,â Mr. Hardy continued. âI had to rent a jeep while his was already waiting. But I caught up with him and followed him here.â

âDid he stop on the way?â Frank asked.

âYes, in the jungle, for about an hour. He got out of his jeep and disappeared into the woods. Then another car came along the trail, nearly ran into a hole, and barely escaped a falling tree. I saw it from a distance.â

âThat car was ours!â Frank cried out.

Mr. Hardy stared at the boys. âYouâd better tell me all thatâs happened to you,â he said gravely.

The boys described their adventures for their father, then Joe asked, âDad, what did you do when you saw the pyramid?â

âThere wasnât much I could do,â Mr. Hardy said. âI pitched a tent nearby and kept observing Murphy so I could be sure he didnât have a gang of people working here with him. Yesterday he left the place and I followed him into the jungle. There were people close by and he shot at something, maybe to scare them off.â

âHe shot at me!â Joe declared. âBut he didnât scare us away!â

Mr. Hardy nodded. âI was hoping heâd leave for a while so I could search the pyramid, but he went right back.â

âDid you see the lights last night?â Frank asked.

âNo. I must have dozed off. This morning I decided Iâd better do something. So I disguised myself and was on the way to confront Murphy when I met you.â

âWeâve taken care of Murphy already, Mr. Hardy,â Chet announced and they reported their adventure of the previous night.

âMurphy admits heâs a smuggler,â Biff said. âWe found his loot. Great stuff-gold by the sackful!â

âUnfortunately it wasnât the Wakefield gold, or the Scythian figurine, either,â Frank said.

Mr. Hardy tried to cheer his son. âEven if Murphy and Palango were false leads, you discovered an illegal smuggling operation. The Mexican government will be very grateful to you, and Murphy deserves to be put out of business.â

Frank nodded. âYouâre right. We were just about to take him to ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡ and hand him over to the police. If necessary, weâll take him to MÃ©rida.â

âGood thinking. We can use his jeep and mine. Letâs go get him,â Mr. Hardy said.

The group walked up the steps of the pyramid to where Biff was guarding Murphy. Biff marveled at Mr. Hardyâs disguise, and the thief glowered at them. âI want to see a lawyer,â he snarled.

âYouâll see one in town, Murphy,â Mr. Hardy said. âFirst weâll take you and your loot out of here.â

The boys untied Murphyâs ankles and led him to their fatherâs jeep. He was put in the front seat, while Tony and Biff rode in the back to make sure the smuggler would not try to escape.

The others had soon located Murphyâs vehicle and Frank climbed behind the wheel with Joe and Chet as passengers. The jeeps took a long detour that Murphy had discovered was the easiest route through the jungle. Arriving in ChichÃ©n ItzÃ¡, they turned the man and his gold over to the authorities.

The police deputy was gratified. âWe knew a smuggler was operating in this area, but we never could catch him. You have done us a great favor!â

After Murphy was led away, Frank said. âI donât see any reason to go back to Palango. What do you think, Dad?â

âI agree. Letâs drive to MÃ©rida and get a flight from there to Mexico City. Then we can see what Armstrong has in mind.â

In Merida, Mr. Hardy called John Armstrong at his hotel to tell him when they would arrive. He picked them up at the airport. Looking harried, he mopped his brow with his handkerchief.

âWhatâs new, Fenton?â he asked.

âNo news of the mint thief, John. We didnât find the stolen gold in the jungle,â Mr. Hardy replied, âbut the boys nabbed a smuggler.â He told Armstrong about their adventure.

Armstrong sighed. âWhile you were away, I checked with the police on Zemog. Nothing positive there either. But Iâm sure the answerââ

âLook!â Joe interrupted and pointed to a small plane with the words âMexico Cityâ on the fuselage. It was just taking off on the runway.

Joe memorized the craftâs number, and the excited boys went to check with the control tower. They found out that the plane belonged to Carlos CalderÃ³n. According to the pilotâs flight plan, he was bound for MÃ©rida.

âI think heâs going to Palango,â the official in the tower told them.

âResults at last!â Joe said jubilantly as they went back to tell their father and Armstrong what they had just heard.

Armstrong was enthusiastic. âYou see? Weâll have to go there right away!â

They took a flight the following morning. Mr. Hardy would stay in Mexico City to testify against Murphy, who was being transferred for his hearing the next day. Armstrong and the boys flew to Merida, where they rented two jeeps and once more drove to the dig. When they arrived, their archaeological friends greeted them with loud shouts.

âThank goodness youâre all right!â Rose cried out. âWe thought you were lost in the jungle! Frank Pendleton went out looking for you but had no luck!â

âWe ran into an unexpected adventure,â Frank said. After introducing John Armstrong, he told about Rumble Murphy and the pyramid.

Steve Weiss was incredulous. âThis is absolutely fantastic!â he said.

âWell, we didnât find what we were after,â Frank said. âBut the plane we were looking for has supposedly flown to MÃ©rida and its owner, Carlos CalderÃ³n, was planning to come here.â

âCarlos!â Steve exclaimed. âHeâs a good friend of ours, an archaeology student who visits once in a while. He does graduate work at the University of Mexico. Right now heâs out in the jungle with a couple of our men. Should be back any minute, however.â

âWhy didnât you tell us his plane had âMexico Cityâ on it?â Joe asked.

âI didnât know. He told us he bought a small plane recently, but I never saw it.â

Just then three men appeared at the excavation site. Two were Mexican workmen, the third a handsome young fellow with wavy black hair and a bright smile.

âHey, Carlos!â Steve called out. âThese people want to meet you.â

He introduced everyone, then Frank asked Carlos if he had ever been in Wakefield, U.S.A.

The young man was surprised. âNo, I have never been out of Mexico. Why do you ask?â

âWeâre trailing a private plane marked âMexico Cityâ that took off from an airstrip near Wakefield.â

âWhen was that?â Carlos asked.

Frank gave him the date.

âWait a minute,â Weiss intervened. âAt that time Carlos was here at the Palango dig with us.â

Melville Courtney had been listening. Now he slapped his swagger stick against his boot and addressed the boys. âMy dear chaps, you will have to look elsewhere for your culprit. My goodness, how suspicious you are!â

âI realize you have a case to solve,â Steve Weiss said. âBut I hope youâll stay and lead us to the lost pyramid. Weâll go out tomorrow and do a preliminary survey. After that weâll take a work gang and begin clearing away the vegetation.â

Frank and Joe looked at Armstrong, who nodded vigorously. âOf course weâll stay. Weâll be glad to guide you to the place.â To Frank he said in a low tone, âI donât believe CalderÃ³n is as harmless as he seems. Maybe someone else flew his plane. Weâll stay here and keep him under surveillance.â

Steve Weiss and his group were excited about the lost pyramid, and they could hardly wait to explore it. âWeâre glad you caught that smuggler,â Steve told the boys. âWe just dug up a lot of artifacts, and he might have stolen them. Look here.â He showed them small statues, images of the Mayan gods, an assortment of weapons and knives, and some tablets bearing petroglyphic inscriptions.

âThis is our masterpiece,â he declared, holding one up for all to see. âItâs an image of the Aztec war god. The Aztecs traded with the Mayas of YucatÃ¡n, you know.â

The image was a shining gold mask. The features were contorted into a ferocious scowl, and the jade eyes reflected the sunlight in shimmering blue-green.

Weiss handed the mask to Frank, who examined it and passed the piece around the circle. Everybody was thrilled by the Aztec war god. Chet and Carlos were fascinated.

Armstrong hefted the mask. âFeels like solid gold,â he announced. âIâd say itâs as valuable as one of our larger bars in the mint.â

He began to speak with Chet, Carlos, and Pendleton about the quality of gold. Later that evening, the four sat up after the others had gone to bed. Just before he fell asleep, Joe heard Chet retire to his tent.

A rattling noise woke Joe up hours later. It came from the tent where the artifacts were kept. Somebody was banging them together as if searching for something! Silently Joe crept toward the tent, straining his eyes to see in the darkness. A figure stole out and walked toward the jungle.

Dark clouds floated past overhead. Moonlight gleamed on a gold mask molded into a ferocious scowl.

âWhoever he is,â Joe thought, âheâs stealing the valuable gold mask!â

CHAPTER XV

Lethal Reptiles

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For a moment Joe stared at the thief, who was slowly strolling along in the darkness. Then the young detective crept back to his tent and awakened Frank.

âSomeoneâs taking off with the golden mask!â he whispered into his brotherâs ear. âWeâd better stop him!â

Frank bolted out of his sleeping bag. âGo after him,â he said. âIâll wake the others and weâll be right there.â

Joe ran from the camp as quietly as he could in order not to alert the thief. The man might run into the jungle and disappear into the night! He saw the thief, still walking slowly in the moonlight, and caught up to him. âStop!â Joe commanded. âDonât go any farther!â

He expected the thief to whirl around and attack him, and was ready to fight. Instead, the man turned slowly, holding the mask over his face, and said nothing!

By now Frank and the others ran up. âJoe, did you get him?â Frank called out.

âRight here,â Joe replied.

âWho is he?â Steve Weiss demanded.

Joe stared at the thief, who stood motionless, his face hidden behind the ancient image. âCome on,â Joe said, âtake that thing away and stop playing games!â

The man did not move. Joe grabbed the mask and pulled it from the thiefâs face.

Carlos CalderÃ³n!

âCarlos, what are you doing with that mask?â Steve Weiss asked, incredulous. âYouâre not trying to steal it, are you?â

âOf course he is,â Armstrong declared. âHe took it and then tried to make a getaway. I suspected him all along!â

Weiss took the mask from Joe. âI donât know the explanation,â he said, âbut Carlos is not a thief. Iâm sure of that.â

âWeiss, youâre out of your mind,â Armstrong exploded. âWeâve caught him red-handed!â

Carlos stood perfectly still, saying nothing. He looked at the rest with a fixed stare.

âHeâs sleepwalking!â Tony exclaimed.

âNo, thatâs not it,â Frank said. âA sleepwalker would have awakened after all this commotion.â

Rose walked up to Carlos. She peered deep into his eyes, made passes with her hand in front of his face, and spoke to him. He did not react.

âHeâs in a trance,â the biologist said. âI think Carlos has been hypnotized. Iâve studied the subject and I know all the signs. A hypnotized person looks just the way Carlos does.â

Frank became excited. âSomebody hypnotized Carlos and made him take the gold mask!â

Chet scratched his head. âBut who?â

âNobody in this camp,â Weiss said. âNone of us is a hypnotist.â

âCould it be somebody hiding in the jungle?â Tony suggested. âThe guy met Carlos, hypnotized him, and told him to get the mask. A confederate of Rumble Murphyâs, perhaps.â

âYou may be right,â Joe said. âItâs one more mystery for us to solve.â

Weiss tapped a finger against his chin. âIâve just thought of something. Aztec masks of the gods were supposed to have a hypnotic effect on worshippers in the temples. I wonder if the mask could have hypnotized Carlos.â

âNonsense!â Armstrong objected. âHe wasnât in a trance when I left him last night. He stole the mask deliberately!â

âWhy not ask him?â Biff suggested. He shook the student. âCarlos! Wake up!â he commanded. âWake up!â

Carlos did not respond.

âItâs no use,â Rose said. âHe canât hear you. Besides, itâs dangerous to wake up a hypnotized person suddenly. It could affect his mind and impair his memory. Let him sleep it off.â

âJust like that?â Pendleton queried.

âRight. Most hypnotized people pass into ordinary sleep and wake up normally. In extreme cases, a doctor is needed. All we can do is see how Carlos comes out of this.â

Weiss led the way back to camp. Rose guided Carlos by the elbow. She deposited him in his tent while Steve replaced the gold mask with the rest of the artifacts from the dig.

âIâll stand guard outside CalderÃ³nâs tent,â John Armstrong offered, âand make sure he doesnât escape.â

The others went back to sleep. In the morning, Carlos came out of his tent to join the group for breakfast. Armstrong, who was still on guard, grabbed him.

âHey, let go of me!â the student objected. âWhatâs the idea? I can walk on my own.â

âWe saw that last night,â Armstrong replied sarcastically.

âWhat are you talking about?â

âAbout the way you tried to walk off with the gold mask!â

âJohn, you donât make any sense at all,â Carlos said, looking puzzled. âYou took the mask back to the tent before we went to bed, not I!â

âCome on, the others will tell you,â Armstrong said, dragging the student to the breakfast area.

Everyone seemed to stare at him in a strange way. Carlos began to feel uncomfortable. âIs anything wrong?â he asked. âJohn said something about my walking off with the mask. What is this?â

âCarlos, what is the last thing you remember last night?â Frank Hardy asked.

âWell, Chet, John, Pendleton, and I talked about the mask and admired the beautiful craftsmanship. Then John took it back to the artifacts tent and we all went to bed.â

âAnd then?â

âThen? Nothing. I went to sleep! What in the world are you getting at?â

âYou walked off into the jungle with the mask in the middle of the night,â Armstrong said. âDonât deny it because we all saw you!â

Carlos stared at the man in utter astonishment, then turned to Steve Weiss. âSteve,â he said, and his voice was shaking with fear and bewilderment, âwhat is this man trying to do to me? You know Iâm not a thief. I didnât touch that mask after I went to my tent. You people all know me. Please, wonât anyone stick up for me?â

Rose walked over to the student and put her arm around his shoulders. âCalm down, Carlos. Something happened last night, and we have a pretty good idea what. You were hypnotized and started to walk away from the camp with the mask. Moreover you didnât react to anything we said to you.â

âHypnotized! Butâbut I donât remember anything of the sort.â

âYou wouldnât, so donât worry about it.â

Carlos sat down and put his head into his hands. âI canât believe it. I just canât believe it.â

Armstrong did not speak out loud, but said to Frank in a low voice, âI donât either. I think heâs putting on an excellent show. Letâs ask the authorities to investigate his story.â

Frank was inclined to believe Carlos, but since he worked for Armstrong, he did not contradict him. âSure, Mr. Armstrong, weâll check him out as soon as we get back to Mexico City.â

Carlos stood up again and looked at everyone at the table. âWho hypnotized me?â

âWe donât know,â Steve said. âMust have been an outsider who stole in here.â

âI havenât talked to any outsiders since I arrived!â Carlos argued.

âWho knows?â Pendleton put in. âSomeone could have come into your tent last night and commanded you under hypnosis not to remember ever meeting him.â

âBut why would anyone want to do that?â

âPossibly so that you would take the mask and deposit it somewhere in the jungle.â

âWhatâwhat if it happens again?â

âIt wonât. Weâll keep an eye on you. Relax,â Steve told him. âAnd now letâs get to work. Weâre going to find the pyramid today. Remember?â

He organized a party, including Pendleton, the Hardys, and himself. Armstrong decided to watch Carlos; and Biff, Tony, and Chet would help Courtney to list artifacts from the dig.

âWe donât have to hike as we did last time,â Frank said. âI have a pretty good idea of how to find Murphyâs trail from here. Letâs take the jeep.â

Frank found the way without difficulty, and even though it was a roundabout route from Palango, the searchers reached the pyramid within a few hours.

The archaeologist and the guide were ecstatic. âThis is absolutely phenomenal!â Steve Weiss exclaimed. âWeâve finally found the lost pyramid! Frank, Joe, you canât imagine how grateful we are to you!â

The Hardys grinned. âDonât forget, we discovered it by accident!â

While Steve and Pendleton entered the structure, Frank and Joe reconnoitered the jungle around it and plunged into the underbrush.

âI believe Carlos was hypnotized,â Frank said. âWhat do you think, Joe?â

âIâm with you. I hope whoever did it wonât come back and put all of us in a trance!â He took out his machete and began to hack through the jungle growth. Frank did the same. The keen blades of the long knives easily sliced through the vegetation, lopping off vines, creepers, and tree branches.

The boys reached a clearing, where they paused for a conference on what to do next. âIf we go any farther,â Frank said, âwe might lose our way. The undergrowth is dense around here. How about going back?â

Joe nodded. âLook! Thereâs a path. Want to try it?â

âSure. Why not?â

The new route took them downhill into a swampy region of the jungle. They found a sluggish creek and tramped along its banks until it widened into a fast-moving stream.

A steamy haze rose from the ground. Black mud clung to their shoes. Grassy hillocks were slick with wet grass, and tree boles slanted crazily from the bank out over the water. Moss hung from the branches like long, heavy ropes.

âLetâs pretend weâre monkeys,â Joe proposed. âWeâll swing from one tree to another on the moss and avoid getting our feet wet.â

Frank chuckled. âOkay, Tarzan, you lead the way. Iâll follow when I see how you make out.â

Frank tripped over a root, and fell headlong into the ooze, breaking his fall with his hands. He pushed himself up into a squatting position and washed himself in the stream before proceeding.

The boys hiked along the stream, which flowed roughly in the direction of the pyramid. Massive tree roots compelled them to make a detour inland. They came to a rocky ledge, where ferns covered the mouth of a small cave.

Joe poked a branch into the darkness of the cave. Whoosh! A black snarling form flashed out at him! He ducked by reflex action. The creature just missed his head and zoomed up onto a branch overhead. Savage eyes glared down at him. Sharp fangs snapped.

âItâs a bat!â Frank exclaimed.

Joe shuddered. âA vampire bat. Letâs get out of here before his buddies in the cave come out!â

They hurried around to the bank and continued tramping downstream. The river gradually broadened until it extended a hundred yards across. The Hardys stopped to survey it.

A snout broke the surface and rose into the air, revealing a long head with tiny reptilian eyes. The body floated like a log. A pair of jaws opened, revealing a row of wicked fangs. A heavy tail whip-lashed the water. A similar reptile rose beside it. Then another, and another.

âAlligators!â Joe exclaimed.

âThere must be a school of them!â Frank cried. âCome on, letâs get out of here!â

He turned and climbed up the embankment. Joe started to follow him, but slipped in the mud. Wildly he flung his arms out in a desperate effort to maintain his balance. A hillock broke lose under his foot.

With a scream, Joe toppled into the river and was swept by the current toward the lethal reptiles!

CHAPTER XVI

Unexpected Revelation

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ONE alligator spotted Joe in the water and eagerly moved toward him. Three others followed with open jaws!

Frantically Joe swam against the current. He was a strong athlete, but the swift-moving waves carried him downstream away from the bank. The alligators gained on him, slithering through the water like torpedoes!

Frank ran to a bend in the stream. He tore a long creeper from a tree and tossed one end far out into the water in his brotherâs path. Joe grabbed the creeper as he went past.

âHelpâme!â he yelled.

Frank braced himself on the bank and tugged on the creeper. As he drew it in, Joe kicked his feet and began to move faster through the waves. But the alligators were still gaining on him!

As Joe reached the shallow water, Frank dropped the creeper, held on to the tree branch with one hand, and extended the other out over the stream. Joe grabbed it and Frank pulled his brother up the bank.

A rasping crunch sounded just behind Joe. One of the alligators hurled itself out of the water in an effort to close its jaws on its prey. Missing by a hairâs breath, the giant reptile splashed back into the waves.

Joe lay high on the bank, gasping for breath. âFrank,â he panted, âyou were better than the U.S. Cavalry galloping up to save the old homestead in the movies!â

âWell,â Frank replied, âI figured that if you insisted on playing tag with a bunch of alligators, you might need help in a hurry.â

When Joe recovered, the Hardys found that the bend in the stream carried it away from their starting point. Frank got a fix with his compass on a direct march through the jungle, and half an hour later the boys arrived at the pyramid.

Steve Weiss and Frank Pendleton had made sketches and layouts and were about ready to leave. âWhat happened to you?â Steve asked Joe, who was still wet from his swim.

âI was in a racing meet with some alligators,â Joe said and told them about his adventure.

Steve shook his head. âPlease donât pull any more stunts like that! We havenât had any casualties so far, and weâd like to keep our record clean.â

When the group reached Palango, the Hardys showered and changed their clothes, then washed those they had worn and hung them up to dry in the late afternoon sun. Then they recounted their adventures to Chet, Biff, Tony, and Armstrong.

âAny news on this end?â Frank asked.

âNothing,â Biff said. âTony and I inspected the surroundings now and then, but spotted no one.â

Armstrong frowned. âIâm not surprised to hear that. I still think CalderÃ³nâs guilty.â

âWhat do you suggest we do?â Frank asked.

âLetâs go back to Mexico City and check with the authorities.â

Next morning the group thanked the people at the dig for their hospitality, then jeeped back to MÃ©rida and took a plane to Mexico City. They found Mr. Hardy at the Montezuma Hotel, which he and John Armstrong had made their headquarters while staying in Mexico.

âRumble Murphy has been indicted,â he reported, âand the police have arrested his Mexico City contact, a man by the name of Hank Corda. But thereâs no evidence that they were involved with the Wakefield heist. What did you find out in Palango?â

Frank described the incident with Carlos CalderÃ³n and the gold mask. He mentioned the suspicion that the young man had been hypnotized.

âThatâs possible,â Fenton Hardy mused. âHypnosis has been used before in crimes.â

Armstrong stirred in his chair. âCalderÃ³n is our prime suspect! I want a thorough investigation of him. Take all the time you need. Youâve got to solve the Wakefield theft!â

The boys promised to get to work right away. First they went to the university and checked on Carlos. The administration confirmed that he was an archaeology student, top man in his class, and was doing work financed by the government. Carlos enjoyed the highest reputation in academic circles.

At police headquarters Frank and Joe were told that Carlos CalderÃ³n had no criminal record. The officer in charge made a call to the Department of Aviation to confirm that CalderÃ³n held a pilotâs license.

âThe story Carlos told us checks out,â Frank advised his buddies as they walked toward a shop to have soft drinks.

âDoes anybody think Carlos was working with Rumble Murphy?â Joe asked. âFrank and I doubt it.â

Their friends agreed.

âWhat about Pedro Zemog?â Joe went on. âZemog took a gold horse. Carlos took a gold mask. Is there a connection?â

âWe donât know enough about this guy Zemog,â Biff commented.

Suddenly Frank sat up in his chair. He put his glass down so hastily that soda spilled over the rim onto the marble-topped table. âZemog!â he exclaimed. âZe-mog. I have an idea. Read it backwards!â

âG-o-m-e-z,â Tony ticked off the letters.

âThatâs a popular Mexican name,â Frank continued. âMaybe thatâs the real name of the man weâre after. Come on, letâs check the directory.â

The boys went to a phone booth and Frank flipped the pages of the telephone book. He ran his finger down a column of names.

âBoy, Gomez is like Smith back home,â he said. âAnd there are a lot of Pedros among them.â

âWeâll have to split up and take the names one at a time,â Joe suggested.

Frank nodded and wrote two lists of names. He gave one to Biff, who would be accompanied by Chet and Tony. The Hardys took the second list.

They called on half a dozen men named Pedro Gomez. None was the person they were looking for. The seventh call took them to an apartment in the suburbs of Mexico City. Frank rang the bell. A man with gray hair opened the door. When he saw the Hardys, he tried to shut the door quickly, but Frank blocked it by placing his foot on the sill. âPedro Gomez,â he said. sternly, âwe want to talk to you. May we come in?â

Gomez opened the door. âAll right. You might as well. I am tired of running.â

They went into the apartment. Apparently Gomez was alone. He was nervous and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.

âYou will not find what you came to get,â he told them in an unfriendly tone.

Frank and Joe were startled by the words.

âYou admit you had it?â Joe asked incredulously.

âOf course I had it. But I have it no longer. I sold it a few days ago.â

âYou sold the Scythian figurine?â Frank exclaimed.

Now it was Gomezâs turn to look startled. âThe what?â

âThe day you visited the museum in New York you stole the figurine of a rearing horse and ran off with it!â Frank reminded him.

âOh, no! I did not steal the piece!â

Frank stared at the Mexican. âCome on, Mr. Gomez, we saw you running out of the place.â

âOf course I ran. I was afraid for my life!â

âWhy donât you tell us your version of the event?â Joe suggested.

The man nodded. âYes. But I think you will not believe me.â

âTry us.â

Gomez said he had seen a tall blond man open the display case and take out the horse. When the man realized that Gomez had observed him, he hit the Mexican on the head and knocked him against the wall.

âWhen I got up, the blond man had left the room,â Gomez said. âI ran out after him, but could not see him. Then I heard the guard shout and realized I would be the prime suspect. So I hurried out the door and luckily got a taxi right away.â

Frank and Joe looked at each other. âA tall blond man!â Frank said. âThat jibes with the description of the guard.â

âBut, Mr. Gomez,â Joe said, âwhy do you travel under an alias?â

âI am a salesman of rare stamps. I must take every precaution when I travel.â

âSo thatâs what you had in your briefcase,â Joe marveled. âThe bulge we thought was the Scythian horse was actually a package of stamps.â

Gomez nodded. âUnique Ruritanian issues, two hundred years old. Priceless! I thought you were trying to steal them from me. That is why I told you just now that I sold them. I did not know you were referring to the Scythian horse.â

âWhat about the letters A.P.?â Frank asked. âWe found two telegrams addressed to Pedro Zemog, and signed with those initials.â

âThey stand for Associated Philatelists,â Gomez explained. âI represent the company that sends me buyersâ orders by telegram when I am on the road. The first one told me to take the Ruritanian consignment to Zurich, but the Swiss buyer backed out at the last minute. Then I was told to go to my hometown of Mexico City, where a deal went through.â

âYou ran from us in Zurich because you thought we were after your stamps?â Joe asked.

Gomez nodded.

âAnd you used the name Jones at the hotel because you knew we had seen you on the plane?â

âCorrect.â

âIncidentally, were you in Chapultepec Castile the other day?â

Gomez smiled. âYes. I saw you, and I knew you saw me. So I left.â

âHave you ever been to Wakefield?â

âWhat?â

Joe described the gold heist at the mint.

âMy friend,â Gomez protested, âyou have suspected me of two crimes that I did not commit!â

âMy apologies,â Joe said.

âNow then, who are you?â Gomez demanded.

âWeâre Americans from Bayport, Frank and Joe Hardy. Weâre investigating the thefts we told you about.â

While Joe was talking to Gomez, Frank tried to reconstruct the scene at the museum. The guard had said he saw the tall blond man emerge from the Animal Chamber and bury his cigarette in the sand bucket. Maybe the man had hidden the figurine instead!

âMr. Gomez,â Frank said, âmay I use your phone and call the Early Art Museum in New York? Iâll pay you, of course.â

âGo ahead.â

Frank was connected with Orlov. Before he could say anything, the Russian curator gave a cry that Joe and Gomez could both hear.

âFinally you call!â he exclaimed. âWhy have you not contacted me sooner?â

CHAPTER XVII

Hypnotized!

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âWE didnât have news for you until now,â Frank said.

âNews? I hope good news!â

âYes. Look for the missing figurine in the sand bucket in the hallway.â

âWhat? Butââ Orlov put down the phone in confusion. A few minutes later he came back on. âYou were right! This is fantastic. How did you know?â

âWe found Zemog.â

âRemarkable. He hid it there?â

âNo. The tall blond man did. When he saw the guard, he put the horse in the sand bucket because he was afraid heâd be caught.â

âYou mean Zemog is not the thief?â

âNo. He was an innocent bystander who saw what happened. The blond man hit him and knocked him against the wall. Thatâs why he ran out of the building.â

âAmazing, absolutely amazing! I am very happy about it. Thanks to you, good international relations have not been endangered, and I shall report on your good work to my government.â

Orlov hung up. Frank told Gomez and Joe about the discovery of the Scythian figurine.

âThat is a relief to me,â Gomez said. âIt proves once and for all that I am not the thief!â

âIt sure does, Mr. Gomez,â Frank agreed.

âIf we ever need rare stamps,â Joe said, âweâll give you a buzz.â

The Hardys went back to the Montezuma Hotel and waited in the lobby for their pals. Chet, Biff, and Tony straggled in, looking worn out. Chet flopped down into an easy chair and ran his fingers through his hair. âIâm bushed!â he said.

âIâm disappointed,â Tony stated. âEvery Pedro Gomez we talked to was a false lead.â

âDonât worry,â Frank said. âWe found the right one!â

After telling his friends about the rare-stamp salesman, Frank led the way to the room where Fenton Hardy and John Armstrong were discussing strategy.

âCarlos CalderÃ³n is clean,â Frank said. âWe also found Zemog. His real name is Gomez and he sells stamps. Andâthe gold horse never left the museum in New York.â

âWhat!â Mr. Hardy exclaimed in surprise. âTell us all about it.â

When the boys had finished their account, Mr. Hardy smiled. âGood detective work, boys. As far as the Mexican angle is concerned, I think weâve exhausted it. Weâve been in touch with every conceivable agent dealing in gold, and nothing has turned up. Iâve also spoken with Johann Jung on the telephone just now, and he says the gold has not surfaced in Switzerland.â

Armstrong put his head between his hands. âWeâre up against a stone wall!â he said in despair. âNo leads whatsoever. But I still feel the solution lies here in Mexico.â

âJohn, you canât go by a hunch. I vote we return to Wakefield and start from scratch.â

Armstrong threw up his hands and sighed. âAll right. At this point, I donât know what to do.â

The group caught a jet for New York the next day. Chet, Biff, and Tony went back to Bayport, while the other four reached Wakefield in the evening. The Hardys checked into a motel, and Armstrong went home.

âI canât get this hypnosis business out of my mind,â Joe confessed. âWho hypnotized Carlos? We know Murphy was in custody, and Gomez is on the level. Too bad Carlos couldnât remember anything.â

Frank had an idea. âWait a minute! Thatâs what the guards at the mint said. They couldnât remember anything about the gold heist the night they were on duty. Maybe they were hypnotized, too!â

Mr. Hardy nodded. âGood thinking, Frank. That would explain how they passed the lie-detector test. They could have let the thieves into the vault. And they could be telling the truth when they say they donât know a thing about it.â

Frank and Joe were electrified by the theory.

âWho could have hypnotized the guards?â Joe asked.

âThe same guy who hypnotized Carlos,â Frank replied. âWe were shadowed all the way from Wakefield to Palango. Look! The gang leader used hypnosis to steal the gold. If he came down to the dig, he could have worked on Carlos, too!â

âThatâs an involved theory,â Fenton Hardy said. âAnd if youâre right, chances are the man followed us back to Wakefield. Weâll keep the mint under surveillance all day tomorrow and see what happens. Now letâs get some sleep!â

The private investigator and his sons roomed together, but had separate beds. Mr. Hardy was next to the window and Frank near the door, with Joe in between. Exhausted from their long journey, they fell asleep at once.

Frank woke suddenly in the middle of the night. He had an uncanny feeling that something was wrong. âProbably a nightmare,â he thought. Then he heard a scuffing noise and raised his head.

A ghostly figure glided across the room through the darkness, opened the door, and went out. The door clicked shut.

Frank noticed a slight sickish-sweet odor in the room. It grew rapidly stronger. His head began to swim. His detective training warned him what was happening. He leaped out of bed, and opened the door wide. Joe, awakened by Frankâs shout, threw all the windows up. Mr. Hardy lay still.

Coughing and choking, the boys pulled their father from his bed and propped him up with his head out one of the windows. They leaned over the other one, gasping for fresh air. Mr. Hardy began to breathe regularly again.

By the time he revived, the gas had dissipated. They all sat down on their beds and talked over their close call.

âIt seems as if Frankâs theory has merit,â Mr. Hardy said. âOur enemy may have followed us back here, and now he wants to get us out of the way.â

âBut if the gold is already in Mexico or somewhere else, why would he get nervous because weâre back in Wakefield?â Joe asked.

âHe probably wouldnât. Which means, the gold must still be here!â

âHeâs sure determined to kill us,â Frank said. âHeâs as dangerous as a rattlesnake!â

âI think one of us should keep watch for the rest of the night,â Mr. Hardy said. âIâll do it.â

âWeâll take turns,â Frank suggested.

âDonât worry about it,â his father said. âMost of the night is already gone. You two go back to sleep. Someone has to be bright and alert in the morning.â

The boys pulled their father out of his bed and propped him up with his head out the window.

They bolted the door, but nothing more happened. After an early breakfast they took a circuitous route through the woods to the mint. Fenton Hardy dropped off near the front gate and concealed himself behind a clump of trees where he could watch the entrance without being seen. Frank and Joe slipped behind some bushes at the back of the building and kept vigil near the rear door and side exit.

Workers began arriving. They left their cars in the parking lot and entered the building. Then visitors streamed in.

âThey donât know about the gold heist,â Frank whispered.

âArmstrong has been keeping the theft under wraps,â Joe observed.

Hours went by. The sun grew hot, and the Hardys felt cramped.

âIâm hungry,â Frank said.

âIâll have a hot dog and a bottle of soda,â said Joe, pretending to nibble on a weiner.

âMake mine a hamburger,â Frank joked, âand a side order of French fries. Iâd like to be in the Bayport Diner right now, Joe!â

âSo would I,â Joe said. âSurveillance is tough when youâre hungry.â

They took out some cookies they had brought with them and had their midday meal. Evening came, and the boys strained their eyes toward the rear gate of the mint but saw nothing suspicious.

Suddenly dry leaves snapped in the bushes behind them! The Hardys whirled around and got ready for action as the sound approached.

âIâll tackle him!â Frank whispered. âYou clamp your hand over his mouth.â

The noise grew louder, then stopped behind the nearest bush. The branches parted and a face peered through at them. It was that of a little black and white terrier!

The Hardys laughed and sat down in relief.

âA canine suspect,â Joe chortled.

The dog advanced, wagging his tail. Frank stroked his back. Joe scratched his ears.

âOkay. Off you go,â the boy said. The terrier rubbed his head against the young detectiveâs arm and licked his hand. âGo home!â Frank commanded. Instead, the dog climbed into his lap, where he settled down.

The Hardys tried to push him away. Thinking they wanted to play, he rolled over and over, pawing the air in a friendly fashion.

âWe must get rid of him,â Frank muttered.

Joe found an extra cookie in his pocket. âThis should do the trick,â he said, chucking the cookie in a high arc over the bushes.

The terrier darted after the flying missile, and came back with the cookie in his mouth! The Hardys groaned as he laid it at Joeâs feet.

Eagerly the animal looked up at him, wagging his tail, obviously asking for another chance to fetch the cookie. Getting no response, the dog began to whine.

Frank became alarmed. âIf he starts barking, everybody in the mint will know weâre here!â

Just then a small bearded man came through the back gate and headed in their direction. The Hardys were frantic with fear that the dog would give them away!

The bearded man came directly toward them, walking up to the bush they were hiding behind. The dog growled at him.

âThat did it,â Frank thought. âHow are we going to explain?â

The man seemed to pay no attention, however. Instead of circling around the bush and confronting the boys, he veered to one side and walked into the woods without even looking at the dog.

âJoe! What do you make of that?â Frank asked, puzzled. âHe didnât blink an eye!â

âI donât know,â Joe said slowly, watching the man intently. âHeâheâs strolling along in a funny way, almost like a zombie!â

âJoe! Maybe heâs been hypnotized. Letâs follow him.â

CHAPTER XVIII

The Big Discovery

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THE bearded man walked rapidly through the woods. It was dark enough for Frank and Joe to follow him at a close distance. They were relieved when the terrier dropped behind and then ran off.

âI hope heâs headed for home,â Frank thought.

The man they were shadowing never looked behind or to either side as he went. He kept his right hand plunged into the pocket of his jacket as if protecting something. Reaching the dirt road Frank and Joe had scouted before, he avoided the road itself by moving through rough underbrush to the left.

âHe doesnât want to be seen by anyone coming down the road,â Frank murmured.

âI guess the guy who hypnotized that man told him to stay clear of it,â Joe replied.

The stranger turned away from the road on a long hike through the woods to the empty airstrip, which he crossed. A plane could easily land or take off on it.

âSomebodyâs keeping the place ready to use,â Frank said in an undertone.

âA plane could even be parked in the underbrush,â Joe replied. âI wonder if the beard is meeting the pilot here.â

Their quarry did not stop, however. He walked across the airstrip into the woods on the opposite side. He and his two shadows continued past tall trees whose bare branches were etched in sharp outlines against the night sky.

Soon they came to an old unused dirt road. In spite of the darkness, the boys could see two parallel furrows. A vehicle had recently been driven up the road.

They followed the man until he came to a barbed-wire fence with a wooden gate. The Hardys ducked into the underbrush and watched the stranger advance to the gate. Another man approached from the other side, cradling a rifle over his arm.

âGive the password,â he demanded.

âGolden moonlight.â

The gate was opened and the beard went through, disappearing around a bend. The guard sat down on a stump and placed his weapon across his knees as he resumed his vigil.

Frank tapped Joe on the shoulder. He pointed along the fence, indicating that they should scout in that direction. Stealthily the two boys crept through the underbrush past the guard. They followed the fence until they noticed a light shining through the trees. Moving closer, they saw the outline of a cavernous barn on the opposite side. The light came from a window, its beam falling upon a dusty pickup truck parked outside.

âWeâd better investigate,â Joe said, and he depressed the barbed wire with his foot. He put a hand on one of the fence posts and vaulted over. Frank followed, but his foot slipped and his jacket became entangled in the barbed wire!

âJoe!â he hissed. âIâm caught!â

His brother took off his own jacket, which he used to protect his hands as he pushed the barbed wire down. Frank pulled himself free and dropped down on the other side.

Slipping up to the area of the light, the Hardys hit the ground and crawled to the barn. Joe snaked his way around the pickup and Frank followed him. Then they peered into the barn window, which was ajar.

They saw an enormous room. A floor of broad planks extended from wall to wall. Dark rafters loomed overhead, and on either side of the room rickety stairs led to the haymow.

Each side of the building had a heavy reinforced wooden door fastened by a large bolt and chain. Peepholes had been cut in the doors so that anyone on the inside could identify visitors before admitting them.

Three men were seated at a table in the middle of the barn under a single overhead light bulb, playing cards. They were a rough-looking three-some with two daysâ growth of beard on their faces. Two wore levis and plaid shirts. The man who seemed to be their leader was dressed in slacks and in a turtleneck sweater.

Turtleneck dealt the cards. Each man picked up his hand and looked at it. One of the plaids started his bet and threw some chips into the pot.

As Frank and Joe surveyed the scene, their eyes focused in a corner that gave off a golden glow.

Gold bars lay stacked on top of one another!

âMaybe thatâs the gold from the Wakefield Mint!â Joe gasped.

Frank nodded as the betting at the table continued. Turtleneck drew in the pot, adding a stack of chips to those he already had.

âIâm having lousy luck,â one of his companions said. âI want a new deck of cards.â

Turtleneck glared at him. âYou accusing Jake Slobodky of cheating? You saying I just dealt from the bottom of the deck?â

âNaw,â the man replied. âIâm just saying my luck might change with a new deck.â

The game continued. Jake won again. He grinned as he raked in the chips.

The third man slammed his cards down in disgust.

âYou complaining about how I deal, too?â Jake demanded.

âIâm complaining about this waiting,â the man grumbled. âWeâve got the gold here. The planeâs ready. Letâs get this show on the road!â

âYou calling the shots now?â Jake asked.

âNo, but I got a stake in this operation. And if you want my opinion, I sayââ

A loud knock on the door interrupted him. The three men jumped to their feet and tiptoed to the door, where the pair in plaid shirts flattened themselves against the wall. Jake opened the peephole and looked out.

âGive the password!â he ordered.

âGolden moonlight.â

âOkay. Come on in.â

Jake unfastened the chain and shot back the bolt. The beard entered. His eyes were wide open and his face expressionless.

âHe looks just the way Carlos did,â Joe thought.

The beard still had his right hand deep in his pocket. He stopped inside the door as if rooted to the spot. The other three gathered around him expectantly.

Jake spoke loudly to him, emphasizing each word. âWhat is your mission?â

âI must deliver the message,â the man said in a weird voice that seemed to come from a great distance.

âWhat is the message?â

âI do not know.â

âWhere is the message?â

âI have it here.â He drew his hand out of his pocket. He was clutching a piece of paper in a tight grasp.

âGive me the message,â Jake ordered. âAnd then return to your home.â

The man handed the paper to him, did an about face, went through the door, and walked down the road toward the gate. Jake locked the door. âThe trance works,â he chortled. âThat guyâll be dead to the world till he wakes tomorrow morning. And he wonât remember coming out here. Just like the guards who let us heist the gold from the vault.â

âBut this man was able to talk. I donât like it,â one of the plaids objected.

âNothing to worry about. Heâs programmed to answer just the questions I asked. If the Hardys catch him, he wonât spill the beans.â Jake held the paper up to the light under the table.

âWow!â he exploded. âTomorrow is D-Day! The plane arrives at midnight and weâll be airborne pretty soon and got to be ready to move. Hey, gang, weâre gonna be rich!â

After the general excitement had died down, the men started another game of cards. Jake won again. âThis is my lucky day!â he boasted.

Frank nudged Joe. âThey know weâre on their trail,â he whispered.

âBut they donât know how close we are,â Joe replied. âThink we should go and let Dad know?â

âNot yet,â Frank advised. âJake and his pals are small-time crooks. Letâs stay and see if we can find out who the ringleader is.â

âGood idea.â

The card game ended, and the players rose to their feet. Jake stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. âMight as well hit the hay,â he announced.

âThatâs not so easy to do,â the big loser grumbled. âThe haymowâs full of hay and dust. What a place for us to be holed up!â

âWeâll use the cots in the corner, as usual,â Jake said, âand itâll be for the last time.â

Click! A rifle bolt had suddenly slipped into place. Frank and Joe whirled around. They found themselves staring into the business end of a shotgun!

CHAPTER XIX

Captured!

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THE guard who had been standing at the gate was looking through the sight of his rifle. The Hardys were caught! The man lowered his weapon and gave them a wolfish grin. âOkay, wise guys. Weâll take care of you. We donât like snoopers around here. Get going and keep your hands where I can see them. Move!â

Frank and Joe started walking. The guard prodded them with his rifle. âReach for the sky and hurry up. No funny business!â

He forced the boys around the corner of the barn to one of the doors and knocked three times in rapid succession. The peephole opened. Jake peered through suspiciously. âWhatâs up?â he growled.

âWe got visitors.â

âWell, well. Bring them in!â

Jake opened the door, and the man with the gun forced the Hardys inside the barn.

âI found them eavesdropping at the window,â he explained. âFigured you might want me to introduce them to you.â

âYou figured right!â Jake snapped. âHow long have they been there?â

âLong enough!â

âGood going, Sam. If anybody else sneaks up to the barn, bring them in too. These guys may have confederates.â

âRight.â Sam left. Jake bolted the door.

The two men in plaid shirts were armed. They glowered at Frank and Joe while Jake started the interrogation.

âAll right,â he snarled. âWhat do you mean by sneaking around here?â

The Hardys tried to bluff their way through the predicament in which they found themselves.

âWe were hiking through the woods near here,â Frank said. âWe didnât know about the barn until we saw the light through the trees.â

âWe were hungry,â Joe added, âand came to see if we could grub a meal.â

The three men laughed in a sinister manner. âOh sure,â Jake sneered. âYou just happened to be spying on us through the window. You punks had better talkâand fast!â

Frank and Joe remained silent. They were playing for time. Their captors scowled at them.

âTalk wonât do any good,â one of the plaid-shirted men said. âWeâve got to do them in. Theyâve seen the gold.â

The other supported him. âThey know too much. Letâs deep six âem, now!â

Amazement gripped Frank and Joe. Those were the words on the note Joe had found in the abandoned car at the airstrip!

The speaker misunderstood their reaction. âSo, that scares you, does it? Well, it should. We mean business!â He moved toward Joe, and his companions walked up to Frank. The Hardys braced themselves.

Then Jake stopped. âWe have to wait for Mr. Big. Maybe heâll want to talk to them. Letâs tie these guys up and sit tight until he gets here. It wonât be long.â

The men pushed the Hardys into a corner, made them sit down with their backs to the wall, produced rope, and tied their hands behind their backs.

The crooks returned to their card game. Frank and Joe sat side-by-side with the ropes chafing their wrists and conversed in whispers.

âJoe, nobody knows weâre here,â Frank said. âToo bad we didnât have a chance to alert Dad before we followed the beard.â

âRight. Weâll have to get out of this on our own,â Joe replied.

Three quick knocks sounded on the door, followed by three slow ones, then the three fast ones were repeated. The men at the card table leaped to their feet.

âMr. Big!â Jake exclaimed. âThatâs his signal. Get ready, and donât talk out of turn.â

He unbolted the door without looking through the peephole, and swung it open. Mr. Big entered.

The Hardys gasped. John Armstrong, the administrative assistant of the Wakefield Mint walked into the room!

âEverything in order, Jake?â he asked.

âSure thing, boss. Except a couple of prowlers came sneaking around the barn.â

âProwlers?â Armstrong sounded alarmed.

âDonât worry, boss. We caught âem and weâve got âem.â

âWhere are they?â

âOver there.â Jake pointed to the comer where the two captives were tied up.

Armstrong threw up his hands in astonishment. âDonât you know who they are?â he demanded.

âShould I?â Jake queried.

âWell, maybe not. Theyâre Frank and Joe Hardy!â

âFenton Hardyâs sons?â Jake squinted uneasily. âThat means the gumshoe is on to us.â

Armstrong shook his head. âHardy doesnât know anything about our operation. And these two donât matter any more.â He advanced toward Frank and Joe. âFooled you, didnât I?â he asked slyly.

âYou sure did,â Frank admitted. âFirst you steal the gold. Then you send us on a wild goose chase to Switzerland by spreading the rumor that the gold will be sold there.â

âIt would have been sufficient if my friend Rudolf Kling hadnât picked a loser like Pfeiffer to do the talking,â Armstrong growled.

Frank nodded. âPfeiffer was caught in a burglary. And when we left Zurich after that, you sent us to Mexico by dreaming up the clue of the airplane, then insisted on traveling to Palango with Dad to get us and him as far as possible from Wakefield. The gold was here all the time.â

Armstrong agreed. âThe guy I had hired to fly it out gave me trouble on the time schedule. Thatâs why I had to keep you occupied in distant places. Then the idiot got himself arrested in Mexico City just before we came back. But I got a replacement for him, whoâll do the job tonight andââ

Frank interrupted him. âYour pilot was arrested? Is his name Hank Corda?â

âRight. I didnât know about his connection with Murphy. He had Cordaâs name and address on him, and when he was booked the cops found it. That was all I needed! But I fixed it. This is the final case for Frank and Joe Hardy. Weâre going to drop you into the sea from our plane and this time tomorrow youâll be playing with the fishes in the Caribbean!â

The ringleader turned toward his henchmen. âForget about these boys,â he said. âOur plane arrives around midnight. The pilot wants this to be a quick job. So do I.â

âEverything is ready, boss.â

Armstrong walked over to the gold bars, picked one off the top, and looked at it. It glittered in the glare of the overhead bulb.

âThatâs a beautiful sight,â he said. âI havenât seen these since they were in the vault at the mint. I was at home when the theft took place, if you recall.â

Jake grinned. âBest alibi anyone ever had.â

Armstrong looked pleased. âI think so. Well, these bars have come a long way to get to this barn. From Siberia to Moscow to Zurich to Wakefield. Next stopâan uninhabited island in the Caribbean. We divide the loot there and go our separate ways. If we ever meet again, we donât know one another.â Armstrong put the bar back on the pile. âSay, how have you fellows been killing time out here?â

âPlaying cards,â Jake replied.

âHow about dealing me in?â

âSure thing, boss.â

Armstrong occupied the fourth chair at the table. Jake dealt the hands and the game began.

Frank gently tried to pull his wrists apart. He felt a slight give in the ropes. Tapping Joeâs foot with his, he leaned toward his brother. âI may be able to untie myself,â he whispered. âHow about you?â

Joe tested his own bonds. âNot a chance.â

Twisting his right wrist against his left, Frank felt the rope stretch. He explored with his fingers until they closed over the knot. Using his escape technique, he figured out how the knot had been tied and rubbed it between his thumb and finger. Gingerly he tugged at the shorter strand.

It moved. Little by little, in an agonizingly slow process, Frank drew the shorter strand loose. His hands were free! He sat still for a moment, watching the card game. All four players were intent on the betting as the pot grew larger and larger.

Frank pressed his shoulder against Joeâs to hide his fingers, which were working on his brotherâs bonds. The second rope fell away and Joe was released.

âThey may not notice us,â Frank whispered, âif we sneak up into the haymow, go out the window, and shimmy down the drainpipe.â

âWhat about the guy at the gate?â Joe asked.

âWeâll worry about him when we get there. The first thing is to get out. Come on!â

The Hardys rose slowly to their feet, never taking their eyes off the card game. They tiptoed over to the stairs. Frank led the way up step by step. As he placed his foot on the top rung, it creaked loudly.

The noise cut through the stillness of the huge barn, setting up echoes in the rafters. Startled, Armstrong swiveled in his chair and looked for its source. He spotted Joeâs feet at the top of the stairs.

âThe Hardys are loose!â he cried angrily. âAfter them! Donât let them get away!â

The other three men scrambled to their feet, tipping over the chairs in their haste. They pounded across the floor to the stairs.

Now that their escape had been discovered, Frank and Joe plunged forward into the haymow. The atmosphere was hot, the air was dusty, and the hay was slippery. The boys leaped to the right behind a high pile of hay. Staying low, they ran toward the opposite end of the haymow, slipping and sliding all the way.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Jake and his two henchmen climbed into the loft.

âWhere are they?â Jake bellowed.

Seeing no movement, he led the way to the left side, where clear boards offered easier footing. Frank and Joe saw them go past, and jumped into the middle of the hay, believing they could cross over and reach the stairs.

But Joeâs feet shot out from under him. He skidded on the hayâright into Jake, who had doubled back. The unexpected collision caused Jake to tumble into a large haypile. He coughed, wheezed, and sneezed, then came up with wisps of dry weeds sticking from his hair. Before he could extricate himself, Frank and Joe ran down the left side while the other two pursuers came up on the right.

A tall pole near the stairs at the far end of the loft reached up to a crossbeam. Frank shimmied up the pole onto the crossbeam, and Joe followed instantly. The brothers perched where they could look all the way across the haymow.

âI hope they think we went downstairs,â Frank muttered.

The three men gathered beneath them, panting, swearing, and looking around furiously. âThey got to be up here!â Jake snarled. âWe donât go down till we find where theyâre hiding!â

âWhich way?â said a plaid-shirted searcher. âLeft or right?â

âLeft, right, up, and down! Look everywhere.â

The Hardys were sure to be discovered. Frank signaled Joe. Balancing themselves on the crossbeam, they hurtled down simultaneously, hitting the three men across the shoulders and knocking them down in a heap. Then the boys dived for the stairs, and jumped down three steps at a time. When they reached the bottom, however, they ran straight into the muzzle of a gun!

âOkay, wise guys,â Armstrong said. âThe jig is up!â

CHAPTER XX

In the Nick of Time

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As Armstrong gave his command, the Hardys froze in their tracks and raised both hands over their heads. Footsteps pounded down the stairs behind them.

âNice going, boss,â Jake called out.

âTie them up again,â Armstrong ordered, âand this time see that they stay that way!â

Frank and Joe were hustled over to a corner and bound with ropes around their wrists and ankles. Jake tested the knots.

âDonât worry,â he said. âThese guys will stick around till we move them.â

âGood,â Armstrong said. âAll we have to do is take them with us and unload them from the plane at five thousand feet. By the way, youâd better bolt the barn door again.â

Jake walked to the entrance and reached for the bolt. Wham! The door burst open, the edge striking Jake and knocking him off his feet!

Fenton Hardy stepped into the barn, followed by the Wakefield chief of police and a number of officers. âDrop the gun, Armstrong!â the detective commanded.

Armstrong hesitated for a second, then the rifle clattered to the floor. The police disarmed his henchmen, who sullenly refused to say anything.

âWeâd like to join the party,â Joe called out, âbut weâre tied up.â

Fenton Hardy walked over and unfastened the ropes. âAre you all right?â he asked.

âFine,â Frank replied. âBut we wouldnât have been for long. These men were going to let us take a long-distance swan dive into the Caribbean.â

âYou got here just in the nick of time,â Joe said, relieved.

Armstrong swung around at the words. âHardy,â he grated, âhow did you figure out my little scheme?â

âIt hit me while I was keeping the front gate of the mint under surveillance. The guards at the mint had been hypnotized. And from the way my sons described Carlos CalderÃ³n, he, too, must have been in a trance.â

âWe wondered who did it,â Frank put in, âbut never guessed the truth.â

âNeither did I, Frank,â Mr. Hardy said. âFor the longest time I suspected a third person who might have tailed us to Mexico. Yet Armstrong had the opportunity to hypnotize both the guards and Carlos! Of course, the theory seemed ridiculous. The administrative assistant to the director robbing his own mint! Nevertheless, I decided to shadow him, and it paid off.â

âDad, why didnât you let us know?â Joe asked.

âBy the time I realized all this, you two had left your post at the rear gate of the mint. I presume you had good reason?â

Frank described how they had seen the hypnotized man with the beard and decided to follow him.

âGood thinking,â Mr. Hardy said. âAnyway, I went to a pay phone and called Chief Erikson, and he came on the run with his men to help me make this arrest.â

âGlad to round them up, Fenton,â Erikson replied. âI know how often youâve been right about criminals.â

Mr. Hardy turned to Armstrong. âWe saw you come out of the mint. You didnât know it, but you had a police escort every step of the way through the woods to the barn.â

âWe collared the man with the rifle at the gate,â the chief took up the story. âThen we came up the road and watched the action in the barn for a while.â

âYou took a chance, Erikson,â Armstrong declared. âAs Hardy just said, the hypnotism theory was just a hunch. If you had made a mistake, I could have had your badge.â

Erikson shook his head. âNot really. You see, I come from Chicago, and I remember a stage hypnotist who called himself the Great Gordino. His pitch was to call for volunteers from the audience. Heâd put them in a trance and make them perform odd antics, like playing leapfrog onstage, and so on. The Great Gordino got into trouble. He bet on the horses, lost heavily, and disappeared from the windy city one jump ahead of the sheriff.â

âWhat was his real name?â Joe asked.

âJohn Armstrong! I never connected Gordino with the Wakefield Armstrong until your father told me he suspected this man of being a hypnotist. Then I was sure. I felt we should go all out after this suspect.â

Armstrong caved in. âSure, I was Gordino in Chicago before I arrived in Wakefield and got a job at the mint. And I had debts. Then I became greedy and wanted some of this gold.â

âSo you figured out a way to rob the mint?â Frank prodded him.

âI took a vacation in the Caribbean last winter. When I met Hank Corda, I made a deal with him. He put me in touch with Jake, who, with his men, cut the airstrip in the woods.â

Jake glared at Armstrong, but did not deny the charges.

âThen you hypnotized the mint guards, told them to turn off the alarm system and the cameras, and to let Jake in,â Frank deduced.

Armstrong nodded. âIt worked like a charm. Iâm still a pretty good hypnotist.â

âYouâre a pretty good actor, too,â Fenton Hardy said. âYou fooled me completely when you engaged me to handle the case. And here you were simply using me to divert suspicion from yourself.â

âOf course. If anyone asked me what I was doing about the gold heist, I could say I hired the famous private investigator from Bayport to run down the clues. But you ran down too many, Hardy!â

âWhy did you have our father kidnapped?â Joe asked.

âBecause he brought you into the act. That spoiled my plans because with that many people working on the case, it became too dangerous. So we wanted to get him out of the way before he could tell you anything he might have found out.â

âBut when he escaped,â Frank said, âyou left the note instructing your men to deep six F.H. in the glove compartment of the car used to transport the gold to the barn. You were giving Jake his orders.â

Armstrong nodded. âJake didnât like this, so I tried to keep you all away until the gold was safely out of this country.â

Joe turned to his father. âHe sent us to Zurich and had the rumor spread about the Wakefield gold being sold there,â he said. âWhen that didnât keep us there long enough, he dreamed up the clue about the plane with âMexico Cityâ on it.â

Mr. Hardy chuckled. âIt must have been a surprise for you, John, when we actually found such a plane.â

âIt fit right into his plans,â Frank put in.

âSo you hypnotized Carlos CalderÃ³n in Palango to have another suspect who would take up our time,â Mr. Hardy said to Armstrong. âAnd when we came back to Wakefield earlier than it suited you, you gassed us in the motel. It was all part of your plot!â

Armstrong became angry. âNothing would have happened to you if you had listened to me! Why wouldnât you stay in Mexico? When you refused, I had no alternative!â

Frank chuckled. âYou probably figured you had everything under control when you came out to the barn tonight. You must have been surprised to see Joe and me trussed up like a couple of chickens ready for the spit!â

âArmstrong, your pilot will get a surprise, too,â Fenton Hardy said. âThe police will have a welcoming committee waiting for him when he lands at the airstrip.â

âThe getaway plane is due very soon,â Frank reported. âWe heard Armstrong say at about midnight.â

âPut a stakeout at the airstrip at once,â Erikson directed his lieutenant. âImpound the plane, bring in the pilot, and have these prisoners taken away.â

âWould you also call the Zurich police and have them arrest a man named Rudolf Kling,â Frank added. âHe was Armstrongâs accomplice, who hired Pfeiffer to spread the rumor about the gold being sold in Switzerland.â

Armstrong, Jake, and their two henchmen were led out in handcuffs. Mr. Hardy and Erikson walked over to the corner where the gold was stacked. The boys joined them. The bright shimmer of the bars dazzled them, and the hammer and sickle imprint was clearly visible.

âIâve always wanted to know what a million in gold looked like,â the police chief confided. âNow I do.â

âIf Armstrongâs plan had succeeded, it would have been one of the centuryâs most notorious crimes,â Fenton Hardy observed.

âBut it failed, thanks to you Hardys,â Erikson pointed out. âBy the way, Director Wadsworth of the mint returned from his vacation today. Heâs upset about the whole thing and will be relieved to hear that youâve solved the case.â

âIâll bet he wonât be pleased to hear who the culprit is,â Frank said.

âTrue. On the other hand, the three guards who were arrested are vindicated now and will be back at their jobs soon.â

The gold bars were loaded into the pickup, and two officers guarded them while a third took the wheel. Chief Erikson gave the Hardys a lift to their motel.

The following morning Mr. Hardy spoke to Director Wadsworth on the telephone. He confirmed that the pilot had been arrested and thanked Mr. Hardy profusely for his help.

âI would never have suspected John Armstrong,â the director said with a sigh. âI trusted him completely. Well, Iâm glad he hired you to recover the gold.â

The Hardys packed their bags and were soon on their way to Bayport. Frank felt a little disappointed, as he usually did when they wound up a case and the excitement was over. He did not anticipate their next thrilling adventure, Mystery of the Firebird Rocket.

When they arrived home, they were greeted anxiously by Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude.

âIâm so glad to see you,â Mr. Hardy said. âIs everything all right?â

âEverything is great!â Joe replied with a grin.

âIâm sure it was dangerous,â Aunt Gertrude put in.

âOh no, Aunty, it was no trouble at all. By the way, we brought you a souvenir.â

âYes? What is it?â

âYou have a choice. Either a jaguar god or a feathered serpent!â