Biff Brewster - Brazilian Gold Mine Mystery Part 1

BRAZILIAN GOLD MINE MYSTERY.

By ANDY ADAMS.

Biff Brewster series.

CHAPTER I.

Up the Amazon

"Guard this letter as you would your life!"

Mr. Stannart spoke in a low, tense tone as he glanced around the waiting room at Idlewild Airport. Biff Brewster felt a sudden surge of excitement when he took the envelope that the gray-haired man handed him.

The envelope was tightly sealed, and it was addressed to Biff's father, Thomas Brewster, at the Hotel Jacares in Manaus, Brazil. In the upper corner was the return address of the Ajax Mining Corporation in New York City. Gregg Stannart was the president of the company, and Mr. Brewster was its chief field engineer.

"Since you are flying to Brazil to join your father," Mr. Stannart continued, "I decided to have you deliver this letter personally, rather than take the risk of its falling into the wrong hands."

He paused, gave Biff a keen, steady glance, and asked, "Did your father tell you why he was going to the headwaters of the Amazon River?"

"He wrote that he was going on a jungle safari," replied Biff, "and he invited me to fly to Brazil and join him, as a birthday present."

Biff was thinking back to his birthday party at the Brewster home in Indianapolis less than a week ago. His mother had brought in a cake with sixteen lighted candles that Biff had blown out with a single puff, to the delight of the twins, Ted and Monica, who were five years younger than Biff. But the big surprise was when Biff's mother had given him the birthday letter from his dad.

Next had come the excitement of packing, when it dawned on Biff that nearly all his birthday presents were clothes and equipment he could use on a tropical trip. Then Biff had flown to New York where Mr. Stannart had met him to put him on the plane for Brazil.

"Your father is bound on a highly important and secret mission for our company," Mr. Stannart confided now. "He is going far up the Rio Negro, which joins the Amazon just below the city of Manaus. The party supposedly will be looking for sites for rubber plantations."

Mr. Stannart paused, then said solemnly, "Your father will be looking for gold-a fabulous gold mine about which we have secret information. But here in New York," he went on, "we have just discovered that there has been a leak in that information. We 3.

have learned that certain people would do anything to stop your father and get to the mine first. Even now, he may be in danger."

"But Dad didn't say anything about it-"

"Because he doesn't know about it. He may change his mind about letting you accompany him after you give him this letter. It will tell him all he needs to know."

Biff put the letter deep down into his coat pocket. Mr. Stannart nodded approvingly.

"Be careful what you say to strangers," he warned Biff, "and above all, guard that letter!"

It was nearly time for the departure of Biff's plane. Mr. Stannart explained that it would take him to Belem, the capital city of the Brazilian state of Para, not far from the mouth of the Amazon. There, Biff would change to a plane for Manaus, a thousand miles up the great river.

Mr. Stannart studied the other pa.s.sengers who were waiting to board the plane. He said to Biff in parting, in a low but confident tone: "You won't have any trouble on this flight. But be careful after you leave Belem!"

The long trip south did prove uneventful. During daylight, the plane was over the Atlantic Ocean, and darkness had settled when it reached the coast of Brazil. Biff landed in Belem at dawn, so it wasn't until he had changed to the plane for Manaus that he gained his first view of the Brazilian jungle.

He saw it from a seat beside the window as the 4 BRAZILIAN GOLD MINE MYSTERY.

plane climbed above Belem; a vast, solid ma.s.s of billowing green that looked ready to swallow the city that spread below. Then the jungle ended, and the plane was flying over a huge expanse of brownish water streaked with waves of white. This was the Amazon River, stretching as far as the eye could see.

A smooth voice purred from beside Biff's shoulder: "It looks more like an ocean than a river, doesn't it?"

Biff turned to meet the gaze of the smiling man sitting beside him whose eyes looked sharp even through his dark-green gla.s.ses. The large lenses gave an olive hue to the sleek, oval face that narrowed to a pointed chin.

"O Rio Mar" the smiling man continued. "That is what Brazilians call the Amazon. It means 'The River Sea' in Portuguese. Do you understand the language?"

"A little," replied Biff, "but I know Spanish better." He was about to add that he had learned both from his father. Then, remembering Mr. Stannart's warning to be careful when he talked to strangers, Biff stated simply but truthfully: "I have been studying Spanish in school."

"You will need to speak Portuguese," the man declared, "if you are stopping off anywhere between Belem and Manaus." He paused inquiringly. Then, getting no response, he added, "If you go farther up the Amazon or any of its tributaries, you will need to know the dialects of Indian tribes as well."

The stranger's easy, persuasive tone almost caused 5.

Biff to remark that he was going on beyond Manaus. But he caught himself in time and said nothing.

"You may have to talk fast, too," Biff's fellow pa.s.senger continued. "Those tribes are often dangerous. You are sure to find head-hunters among them."

This time, Biff asked a question.

"Have you been among the head-hunters, sir?"

The stranger's smile widened. "My name is Serbot, Nicholas Serbot. And yours?"

"Bruce Brewster. My friends call me Biff."

Nicholas Serbot inclined his head politely. "No, I have never been among the head-hunters, Biff. I come to Manaus occasionally to do business for some European concerns that I represent. Mostly in rubber."

"My dad is in Manaus," Biff volunteered. "I'm meeting him there."

"Perhaps he will take you on a jungle safari. They organize such trips in Manaus."

"That sounds great!" exclaimed Biff. "I'll mention it to Dad!"

"Tell him to inquire at the Hotel Amazonas," suggested Serbot. "Meanwhile"-he leaned toward Biff as he spoke-"you may find the scene below quite interesting."

They had reached the head of the Para River, the princ.i.p.al mouth of the Amazon, sixty miles above Belem. The plane was thrumming over a gigantic carpet of thickly tufted green, furrowed by a maze of irregular streams.

"The region of the Thousand Islands," Serbot ex- 6 BRAZILIAN GOLD MINE MYSTERY.

plained. "Those channels that twist through the solid jungle are called the Narrows. They come from the main course of the Amazon, and most of them are deep enough to be navigable."

Below, Biff saw an ocean-going freighter working up through a watery pa.s.sage. It looked like a toy boat from this alt.i.tude, and occasionally it was swallowed by the thick foliage that jutted over the channel, only to emerge from the green arcade.

Soon the boat was far behind, and Biff watched the narrow channels widen and merge into a limitless, white-capped sea-the great Amazon itself. Serbot's purring voice, and the steady drone of the plane's motors had a lulling effect. Biff's eyes closed to avoid the glare of the tropical sun; soon he was asleep. He dreamed that he was back at Idlewild, with Mr. Stan-nart's voice repeating: "Guard this letter as you would your life! Guard this letter . . ."

In the dream, invisible fingers seemed to be plucking the precious envelope, drawing it up and out of Biff's pocket. With a sudden start, Biff awoke and shot his own hand to his pocket, where it met the crinkle of paper.

The dream had been realistic in one respect. As he dozed, Biff must have kept slumping down into his seat, causing the envelope to work upward every time he hunched his shoulders. A few inches more and it would have fallen from his pocket.

Or was that the answer? What if those phantom 7.

fingers had been real instead of mere figments of a dream!

As he thrust the envelope far down into his inside pocket and b.u.t.toned his coat for safer keeping, Biff Brewster shot a suspicious glance toward his companion of the plane trip, the smooth-spoken man who called himself Nicholas Serbot.

CHAPTER II.

The Clutching Hand.

BIFF was wide awake now, the drone of the plane growing louder in his ears. With it, his suspicions of Serbot faded. The smiling man was leaning back in his seat, his own eyes closed as if in sleep. His hands were folded loosely across his stomach.

For the first time, Biff saw why Serbot wore that constant smile. The left side of his mouth was curled to match the right, which was drawn upward by a scar that began at the corner of his lips and became increasingly jagged until it ended beside his right eyebrow.

Before, the large rims and green tint of the sun gla.s.ses had helped to hide the scar; but Serbot had removed them before he went to sleep. Now, as Biff studied him, Serbot opened his eyes slowly and gave Biff a sleepy glance. Realizing that Biff had observed the scar, Serbot raised his right hand and traced it lightly with his forefinger.

THE CLUTCHING HAND 9.

"A decoration I received during World War Two," he commented, "while I was working with the French Underground. A n.a.z.i spy tried to give me this-" Graphically, Serbot swept his hand across his throat -"but I managed to save my neck. I received this instead."

Serbot clenched his left fist as though it contained a weapon. He grabbed his left wrist with his right hand and shook his head.

"If anyone attacks you with a knife or gun, don't try to stop him that way," he said. "It won't work fast enough, as I found out. Hit his wrist like this" -Serbot opened his right hand, bent it backward, and drove it against his left wrist-"with the heel of your hand, upward and outward. Try it."

Biff practiced the action a few times and apparently won Serbot's approval, for the smiling man added: "That not only will stop him, it will jar the weapon from his grasp, enabling you to s.n.a.t.c.h it all in the same move."

Serbot demonstrated that, too. Then, noting that some of the other pa.s.sengers were beginning to look their way, Serbot changed the subject abruptly. Leaning toward Biff, he began pointing out more sights from the window, as the plane followed the north bank of the river.

There, the jungle had opened into widespread grazing lands, studded by a range of low, flat-topped mountains. Perched on one summit was a little town that Serbot said was called Monte Alegre. Then they 10 .

were far out over the river again, and the Amazon once more resembled a choppy, yellow sea, until the order came to "Fasten safety belts!" The plane was coming to a landing at Santarem on the south bank.

Serbot pointed out to Biff the wide Tapajoz River which disgorged a huge flood into the turbulent Amazon, splotching the yellow tide with long streaks of green that looked like wash from the jungle and shone with emerald brilliance in the noonday sun.

The plane roared off again, and at Obidos, eighty miles farther upstream, the Amazon narrowed to a single deep channel only a mile and a quarter wide with the walls of solid forests fringing both bluffs. Later, the river widened again, and Serbot indicated small settlements built on high stilts in clearings back from the bank.

"Those show you how high the river rises," Serbot told Biff. "Often it overflows its banks for many miles on both sides. Some of the native villages are so far off in the jungle that they can only be reached when the Amazon is in flood."

Between pointing out these interesting scenes, Serbot talked occasionally of his war experiences, and Biff, wide awake and alert ever since his morning nap, was enjoying the trip more and more. He realized that he was gaining a slight preview of the Brazilian jungle that might prove helpful when he and his father set out on the safari that was actually to be a gold hunt. But he was careful to avoid answering any direct questions that Serbot put to him.

THE CLUTCHING HAND 11.

It was late afternoon when Serbot indicated a great, dark swirl of water that merged with the muddy Amazon, marking the mouth of another huge tributary.

"The black water of the Rio Negro," defined Serbot. "From here it is only ten miles up to Manaus."

Soon, the plane landed at the Manaus airport, and a few minutes later, Biff was being welcomed by his father, a tall, rugged man with dark hair and tanned, square-jawed face, an older counterpart of Biff himself, except for the boy's blond hair. But when Biff looked around for Mr. Serbot, hoping to introduce him to Mr. Brewster, he found to his surprise that his companion of the plane trip had already gone.

Biff and his dad talked about the family and everything at home while they were picking up Biff's luggage. Mr. Brewster then led the way to a jeep that he had parked outside the airport. Before they started their drive into the city, Biff drew the sealed envelope from his pocket and handed it to his father with the comment: "Dad, this is from Mr. Stannart. He told me to guard it carefully, that it is very important."

Mr. Brewster tore open the envelope, and Biff watched his expression change as he read the letter. His lips set tightly above his firm jaw, Mr. Brewster thrust the letter into his own pocket; then he started the jeep. Keeping a sharp eye along the rough road, he asked: "Did Mr. Stannart mention what was in the letter?"

12 .

"In a way, he did," rejoined Biff. "He said we were supposed to be going with a rubber-hunting expedition, but that actually we would be looking for gold-"

"You didn't mention that to anyone, did you?" interrupted Mr. Brewster anxiously. "I mean, while you were on the plane?"

"I only talked to a man named Mr. Serbot," returned Biff, "and I even played dumb when he suggested that you take me on a safari. He said we could make arrangements at the Hotel Amazonas."

Biff saw his father's taut expression change to one of relief. Mr. Brewster spurted the jeep over a watery stretch of road with the comment: "These jeeps have to be real puddle jumpers. You never know how deep some of the mud holes are."

The road improved as they swung into the city. It was then that Mr. Brewster asked: "Did Mr. Stannart tell you that there might be serious danger, now that other persons are after the mine?"

"Yes, he said you must be warned."

"I suppose that is why he let you come," mused Mr. Brewster. "Frankly, I feel he made a mistake, and I should send you straight home. However, if we keep far enough ahead of trouble, it may not catch up with us."

Mr. Brewster ended with a rea.s.suring smile.

"I'll tell you the story from the start," he said. "During World War Two, two prospectors, Lew THE CLUTCHING HAND 13.

Kirby and Joe Nara, gave up hunting gold and diamonds down in the state of Minas Geraes and came up the Amazon to help gather rubber. They put their profits into food and supplies and kept going north to look for a fabled land of gold-a land called El Dorado."

"El Dorado! We learned about him in American History!" Biff exclaimed. "It sounded crazier than science fiction. Wasn't El Dorado supposed to be a king who came out of a lake with his body all covered with gold?"

"Originally, yes," returned Mr. Brewster. "Then the story became a legend of a golden city and finally a golden land. The Spaniards looked for it, and so did Sir Walter Raleigh."

"But n.o.body ever found it!"

"n.o.body except Lew Kirby and Joe Nara."

Sure that his father was joking, Biff expected a chuckle to follow. But Mr. Brewster was very serious.

"They uncovered a fabulous Inca mine," resumed Mr. Brewster. "It was too far and too difficult to bring the gold down the Amazon. So they worked their way to the Orinoco River, which brought them out through Venezuela.

"Kirby sent Nara back to the mine and then returned to Minas Geraes, hoping to find someone to help finance the claim. But people either didn't believe his story, or they were the sort he wouldn't trust. But he trusted me and I believed him-when he gave me these."