Biff Brewster - Mystery Of The Mexican Treasure Part 11

"No, you won't, Biff-"

"But I know I will. Even if there is a ledge, I'll be sliding down too fast to keep my balance."

"I'll take care of that, Biff. I'm going to brake your slide."

"What do you mean, break my slide? What if I get broken with it?"

"I mean retrancar, Biff. Not romper"

"I get it, Mike. When do I let go?"

OUT OF THE SKY 151.

"Now."

Gingerly, Biff released his hold. The instant he started that sheer slide, he felt his body go outward, as he had feared. Then Mike's hand came up and planted itself in the small of Biff's back, pressing him close against the cliff.

Mike was braking the slide as he had said he would. Slow-motion fashion, Biff continued downward, until he was almost beyond Mike's reach. Just then, his feet encountered a ledge and Mike's hand, now shifting between Biff's shoulders, held Biff squarely in place until he gained his balance.

"Get a good grip, Biff," spoke Mike from above. "With your hands as well as your feet."

"I've got it."

"With both hands?"

"With both."

"Then hang on with one and reach my way with the other. Guide me while I slide."

Biff reached up, planted his hand on Mike's back and slowed his slide to the ledge. Mike's slide was shorter, so Biff's task was less difficult. But it was needed.

"Thanks, Biff," said Mike, as he arrived. "I meant B-R-A-K-E instead of B-R-E-A-K. It was quicker to say it in Spanish than to spell it in English."

Biff drew a big, long breath. "From here on down," he said, "I hope things will be easier."

152 .

"They will be easier." Mike took a careful, calculating look below. "I can see some very good escaleras, so if you stay close, we can make it without trouble."

"You mean like snakes?"

"We'll be on the watch for them now. It will take something worse than snakes to stop us."

"Like what?"

"I can't think of anything."

They didn't have to think. The answer came. As they were working downward, step by step, in an easy, gradually sloping section of the cliff that offered every hold they wanted, a shadowy ma.s.s swept above Biff's head.

Mike didn't notice it. He was calm. Biff was doing all the worrying for the present. Biff's thoughts flashed back to Tizoc and his followers. What if they were starting to throw down stones! Fearfully, Biff looked up to see. Close by, Mike said approvingly: "That's right, Biff. Keep looking up. Then you won't worry."

Biff didn't worry, for the moment. As before, he saw that a broad bulge protruded from the cliff above them, cutting off any view from higher up. Not only that, they were free from attack by Tizoc's men, safer here, perhaps, than anywhere else that they might be.

Yet again, a sudden sweep of fleeting blackness bothered Biff. It was followed by another that seemed OUT OF THE SKY 153.

closer, more threatening in its slow, lingering approach.

"Mike!" exclaimed Biff. "Look up-"

"You look up, Biff. I'll watch what's happening below. A lot of people are waving up to us. There's Professor Bortha, coming from his tent. There's a man who looks like Kirby. I think I see your father-"

Mike broke off. He had seen the sweeping blackness, too. He was hearing what Biff heard, as they both looked up-a huge, flapping sound, close by. Moments later, both boys were clinging to the cliff for their lives, each holding on with one hand while they waved the other arm to fight off attackers that were swooping down upon them from the sky.

Those attackers were giant golden eagles, their wings spread seven feet from tip to tip. With huge, powerful beaks and slashing talons, they were trying to pluck two victims from the cliff: Biff Brewster and Mike Arista.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Fiesta in El Cielo WITHIN a few short, fearful minutes, Biff and Mike realized that their position was hopeless. Biff's shirt was dangling from his shoulders, ripped to shreds by one pa.s.sing stroke of an eagle's talons. If the bird's big claw had taken hold, it would have yanked Biff from his precarious perch.

Mike's shirt sleeve was half gone, his arm was bleeding as the result of a fierce peck delivered by a powerful beak. Mike, too, was lucky to have warded off that first attack. But the eagles, circling rapidly, were coming down in a more ferocious swoop.

The giant birds, wary in that first attack, now had the boys marked as almost helpless prey. Shadowy darkness descended, the flapping sound became louder, this time accompanied by a sharp, explosive ping. Biff 154 FIESTA IN EL CIELO 155.

couldn't understand it until the ping was repeated and the flap of big wings went wildly by, followed by a whine that certainly was not an eagle's cry.

Someone had opened rifle fire from below. Those pings were bullets flattening against the cliff. The whine was from a shot that was aimed higher, closer to the eagle's wings. As other giant birds came swooping down, more bullets pinged and whined.

Marksmen from below were trying to drive off the attacking eagles, cutting short their approach with well-placed shots. Some of the bullets must have clipped their feathers, for the eagles became more wary. Their jabbing beaks and outspread claws were missing the boys by wider margins.

One huge bird made a furious swoop, only to be winged by a pair of shots that boomed simultaneously from below. The boys saw the eagle jolt in mid-air above their heads and then go flapping crazily toward the foot of the cliff. Mike looked down and reported what he saw.

"Your father and Kirby are firing those shots," Mike told Biff. "They are on the other side of the excavation. They must have borrowed the rifles from the workers."

Mike's comments were punctuated by further shots and new bullet whines.

"Professor Bortha is shooting, too," continued Mike, "but he's by the little tent, near the pit, right below 156 .

us. So he has to aim straight up. They're waving now. They want us to come on down."

That was good news. As they worked their way down the cliff, Biff looked up and saw the eagles circling higher, which was encouraging, too. Occasionally, the birds made short darts toward the cliff. Then, bullets began to sing again and their sound was music to Biff's ears.

Mike had a different sentiment. He expressed it as they neared the bottom of the cliff.

"I'm glad that the shooting is over," said Mike. "Some of those bullets were coming very close. Too close."

Biff was suddenly breathless: "You don't think that Kirby was aiming at us instead of the eagles?"

"I don't know, Biff. But if Kirby is Tizoc, he can't be very anxious to have us tell our story."

"That's for sure, Mike!" Biff agreed.

Mr. Brewster was the first person to reach the boys as they took a short drop to the rubble-strewn ground not far from Bortha's tent. Kirby was still on the other side of the excavation, looking up as though hoping for a last shot at an eagle.

Quickly, eagerly, the boys poured out an account of their trip to Tizoc's cavern beneath the mountain peak, including their discovery of the mysterious boxes that practically filled the adjoining cave. Professor Bortha joined them while they wefe in the midst of FIESTA IN EL CIELO 157.

their story, and Mr. Brewster urged them: "Go right on." Then, to Bortha, he said in a low voice, "Keep an eye on Kirby. We don't want him to hear this."

When Biff and Mike had finished, Professor Bortha turned to Mr. Brewster and asked: "Where did you meet Kirby? And how long ago?"

"I arrived at noon," Biff's father replied, "and after lunch I went down to the village to look for the boys. I ran into Kirby near the Bull's Head-or the Red Bull, as Biff calls it-and we decided the boys might be over here. So we came over. It's lucky your men had those rifles to lend us."

"I've kept them armed against prowlers," said Bortha, "but none of them is a good shot. It was lucky that you came along."

"And Kirby," added Mr. Brewster.

"I'm not so sure," returned Bortha grimly. "He may have been aiming for the boys, not the birds."

"Professor Bortha may be right, Dad," a.s.serted Biff. "Mike thinks the same thing."

Mike nodded. "Some of those shots were mighty close," he admitted.

Mr. Brewster took a quick look across the pile of rubble. Kirby was lowering his rifle, apparently giving up hope of bagging any eagles.

"If Kirby is Tizoc," said Mr. Brewster, "he had plenty of time to get back after the boys were captured. He knows now that we have uncovered his se- 158 .

cret headquarters and have learned about those boxes. What is our next step?"

"Talk to Kirby," suggested Bortha. "Tell him what has happened. Ask his advice. If he is Tizoc, he knows everything already. If he thinks that you do not suspect him, you may be able to make him show his hand, particularly if he becomes bold. If he is not Tizoc, he may be able to help find out the man who is."

By now, Kirby was clambering across the rubble. The big man gave his head a sideward tilt as he looked down into the deep pit that Bortha had excavated below the cliff. Then he turned to Bortha and demanded: "Say, prof, where were you when the boys went climbing up to rob those eagles' nests? Why didn't you stop them?"

"I was down there." Testily, Bortha pointed into the pit. "So I couldn't have seen them anyway. But they didn't climb up the cliff. They came down from the peak above."

"Why, that's even crazier!"

"Not when you hear their story, Kirby," put in Mr. Brewster. "I'll have them repeat it, just as they told it to me."

Repeat it, Biff and Mike did, while Kirby listened with an amazed look on his moonish face. At moments, he muttered interruptions, such as, "Tizoc! What nonsense!" and "Do you expect me to believe this stuff?"

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But when the boys came to the part about the stacks of boxes that had come in by pack trains, Kirby's reddish features turned an outright purple.

Mr. Brewster saw it and inserted a neat query: "Would you know anything about those boxes, Kirby?"

"No, not a thing," returned Kirby. "Not actually. I can believe this Tizoc business now, however. It explains something that has bothered me."

"Like what?"

"Well, as you know, I've shipped a lot of silver over the mountains, but I couldn't afford to bring in all the mining equipment that I've wanted. So to pay the cost of the return trips, I let my drivers bring back shipments from the railroad that were marked for El Cielo. I thought that some came here to the excavation and that others were for merchants in the village."

"Dr. La Vega and I brought in our equipment," inserted Bortha, "by our own pack trains. I can't speak for the merchants in El Cielo, however."

"I never dreamed that such shipments were being diverted elsewhere," Kirby went on. He removed his big hat and mopped his perspiring forehead. "Maybe that's why people began questioning my mining operations. I'd even been told that you were coming here to investigate me, Mr. Brewster. That's why-"

Kirby cut off short, as though he'd been about to say too much. Clamping his big hat on his head, he 160 .

became his usual bluff, important self. A keen look in his eye, he asked: "Why don't we look into this quietly, on our own? Maybe find out what is in those boxes and get to the bottom of Tizoc's game? Learn who he is and then trap him!"

"That is all right with me," agreed Mr. Brewster. He turned to Bortha. "What about you, professor?"

"I am still an archeologist," replied Bortha in a matter-of-fact tone. "At present my work is here." He gestured to the excavation. "I must admit that the finding of the statue of Huitzilopochtli in its original mountain cave would intrigue me greatly. But the whole thing may be an outright fake. So I would prefer that you check it first. I can discuss it with Dr. La Vega when he is feeling better."

It was dusk now, so Bortha turned on floodlights to resume work at the excavation. Kirby stayed close to Mr. Brewster and the boys as they headed into El Cielo. It was plain that he intended to stay with them until the Tizoc question was settled.

On this one evening, however, Tizoc and his Eagle Knights could have stalked the narrow streets of El Cielo and gone practically unnoticed. The big fiesta had begun, and all the villagers were out, wearing the greatest a.s.sortment of fanciful masks and costumes that Biff had ever seen. Many of them represented an- FIESTA IN EL CIELO 161.

cient Aztec heroes and other mythical figures, while others were shaped like grotesque animals.

A green-faced cat with broom-straw whiskers blocked Biff's path with a fierce hiss. Then the cat-man unmasked and there was Chaco, wearing a big grin on his usually stolid face. Mr. Brewster asked in surprise: "Aren't you working at the excavation, Chaco?"

"Not tonight, senor. Tonight, I have fun at the fiesta. All night, until the dawn."

"At dawn, come up to the Hotel Pico," said Mr. Brewster. "Bring a few good men with you. We will be needing you for something special."

"We shall be there, senor."

Even the banana seller was gone from in front of the Red Bull. But mariachis were in abundance, in various types of fancy jackets, denoting different groups of players. But among those unmasked faces, the boys saw none resembling Ramonez.

A few hours later, they went up to the Hotel Pico. Kirby accompanied them, saying he had decided to stay there overnight. The fiesta spirit was in evidence at the hotel, too, for after dinner, Biff heard a mariachi group playing outdoors, while Mr. Brewster and Kirby sat in the patio and talked about Tizoc.

It was then that Mr. Brewster turned to Biff and asked: 162 .

"Where are those torn slips that you and Mike put together? I'd like Mr. Kirby to see them."

"They're in Professor Bortha's room, dad. I'll get them."

As Biff opened the door of Room 8, he stopped short. The room was lighted, and a figure was stooped above the recording machine, sorting through Bortha's notes. But intent though the intruder was, his ear was quick enough to catch the sound of Biff's entry.

The man straightened up with the speed of a striking snake. Biff saw that he was wearing a mariachi jacket and that the pattern of its embroidered collar looked quite familiar. That in itself was no surprise, as Biff recognized the face above it.

To Biff's lips sprang the name: "Ramonez!"