The Mark on the Door

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Chet,” said Frank, “you stay here and break camp. Tico, Joe, and I will go in town and see what we can find out.”

  Several villagers were walking about when the boys arrived in the plaza. It was impossible, however, to get any of the people to talk.

  “Whatever, or whoever, this Pavura is,” Joe remarked, “it sure has these villagers scared.”

  As they continued walking, Frank suddenly pointed to one of the houses. “Look!” he declared. “That must be the home of one of the villagers Señor Garcia told us disappeared. There’s the symbol painted on its doorl”

  They walked forward to examine the door more closely when a stocky Mexican man seemed to appear from nowhere and blocked their path.

  “Who are you?” Joe demanded.

  The man did not reply. He drew a large, gleaming machete from his belt and raised it threateningly !

  CHAPTER X

  A Villager Speaks!

  “Váyase ustedes!—Leave here!” the man with the knife shouted.

  “Por qué?—Why?” Frank retorted.

  The Mexican pointed to the symbol painted on the door. He then let go a volley of words so rapid that even Tico had difficulty understanding him.

  “What’s bothering him?”

  “He says that the presence of strangers in the village will bring Pavura down upon them,” Tico explained. “He wants us to leave at once.”

  The man wielded the machete menacingly.

  “Let’s not push the issue,” Frank advised. “It would only make things more difficult for us if we got involved in any trouble.”

  The man glared at the boys as they walked off.

  “I don’t think we’re going to get any information out of these people,” Joe concluded, disappointed.

  “But there must be at least one villager with enough courage to talk,” Frank said.

  “Garcia said there aren’t any policemen here,” Joe commented. “How do they keep law and order?”

  “Usually the elders of a village appoint a man to be, what you call in your country, a sheriff,” Tico explained.

  “Then why don’t we find out who he is and ask him some questions?” Joe suggested.

  “Good idea!” his brother replied.

  At the Hardys’ suggestion, Tico approached an old man they spotted walking across the plaza. After a brief conversation, the Mexican youth returned to his friends.

  “He says the man we seek is Senor Miguel Santos,” Tico said. “But luck is not with us, for Senor Santos is one of the villagers who disappeared. Only his wife remains at home.”

  “Where is it?” Frank asked.

  “On the south side of the plaza, the one with the strange symbol painted on its door.”

  The boys quickly located the house. They examined the painted symbol for a moment, then Frank rapped on the door. It creaked open, revealing a thin, handsome woman. Her face was taut and pale.

  “Senora Santos?” Frank asked.

  “Si,” she responded with a bewildered expression.

  The boys introduced themselves, and after stating their business, asked the woman if she would help them.

  Señora Santos seemed eager to discuss her husband’s disappearance. She announced, much to the delight of the Hardys, that she spoke a little English.

  “My husband and I once live in Mexicali,” she said, forcing a smile. “We have much opportunity to learn your language there.”

  Senora Santos invited the boys inside and asked them to be seated in the tall wicker chairs that were scattered about the room.

  “What can you tell us about your husband’s disappearance?” Frank questioned.

  “I know very little,” Senora Santos informed her visitors regretfully. “One night he returns from a hunting trip and tells me he see something strange in the mountains.”

  “What sort of thing?” Joe asked.

  “He says that he see a group of men walking through the mountains,” she explained. “Many were dressed like the Aztec warriors of old days. They were all chanting mysterious music.”

  “Did your husband talk to any of them?” Frank inquired.

  “No,” the woman replied. “But then some of the men see my husband. They chase him, but my Miguel escapes.”

  “When did you last see your husband?” Joe queried.

  “The night he return from the mountains,” she answered. “After eating his supper, he went to the cantina to tell his amigos about the men he see.” Her eyes began to fill with tears. “My Miguel never come back. In the morning I find mysterious symbol painted on the door.”

  “What about the other villagers who vanished?” Frank asked.

  “They are my husband’s amigos,” the woman said. “Each of them go to search for Miguel and never return. The doors of their houses are also marked with the symbol.”

  “And now the people of the village are too scared to do anything about it,” Frank commented.

  “That is right,” Senora Santos agreed. “I should have notified the authorities myself, but I do not wish to endanger the others in the village. Then when you boys ask me to help, I decide not to remain silent any longer. I know you try to help. I trust you.”

  The boys thanked the señora and returned to their camp, where Chet had already finished packing the equipment. “It’s about time you masterminds got back,” he blurted. “Did you pick up any information?”

  The Hardys told about Senora Santos. “As I see it,” Frank said, “the mystery is somehow linked to those men Señor Santos spotted in the mountains. It’s a slim lead, but I’m all for going there and having a look.”

  “I’m game,” Joe announced.

  Frank turned to Chet and Tico. “Of course it’s not fair of us to ask you fellows to come along on such a dangerous mission. If you want to ...”

  “What!” Chet exclaimed. “Me stay here without you? And who’s going to keep you out of trouble? Count me in!”

  “Me too!” Tico chimed in.

  “Good,” Frank said with a grin. “But well need more supplies.”

  “Maybe we can buy them at the general store in the village,” Joe suggested. “Let’s hope they’ll let us in.”

  “If we are going into the mountains,” Tico said, “I would recommend we use burros.”

  “Hold on!” Joe commanded. “We might not have enough money with us to swing it.”

  “Perhaps we can pay in traveler’s checks,” Frank remarked jokingly.

  The Hardys quickly examined their funds. Chet and Tico offered to chip in what cash they had.

  “That should be more than enough to buy what we need,” the Mexican youth observed. “Burros are not expensive here.”

  The boys returned to the village and headed directly for the store. Much to their surprise, the proprietor seemed too eager to assist them. He not only sold them the supplies they needed, but he also arranged for the purchase of burros at a reasonable price.

  “The proprietor certainly went out of his way to help us,” Joe commented.

  “Naturally,” Frank replied. “He and the villagers are glad to get rid of us.”

  Shortly the boys were off on their journey toward the distant mountains. As they jogged along, the terrain became more difficult to travel.

  “This must be the slowest form of transportation in the world,” Chet said as he tried to get his burro to move faster.

  “These animals are slow,” Tico explained. “But they are reliable and sure-footed.”

  The air became cooler as the riders moved higher into the mountains. Near sunset, Frank suggested that they stop and make camp.

  “There’s a flat piece of ground over there,” Joe observed.

  It was dark by the time they had pitched their tent and gathered firewood to cook supper.

  Chet struck a match and was about to light the tinder when Frank suddenly hissed, “Put that out!”

  “What’s the matter?” Chet asked, flicking out the glow.

  “I see a campfire!”

/>   “Where?” Joe asked.

  The proprietor seemed too eager to sell them supplies

  “On the other side of that gully. About half a mile away!”

  “Maybe it’s a party of hunters,” Tico suggested. “There are mule deer, antelope, and mountain lions in this area.”

  “Could be,” Frank answered cautiously. “Then again, it might not be. We’ll have to check it out. Chet, you and Tico stay here and guard the camp. And don’t light a fire. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  “Be careful,” Tico warned. “The ground is dangerous.”

  Frank and Joe started off, moving slowly across the craggy terrain. In places the ground was gouged with narrow crevices and holes. They worked their way up a slope, then across a level stretch covered with tangled brush. Finally they dropped to hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way.

  “There’s the campfire in that clearing just ahead,” Joe whispered. “Keep your head down!”

  As the excited boys crept closer, a weird sound of chanting voices drifted to their ears.

  CHAPTER XI

  Mountain Pursuit

  THE SOUND sent a chill through the Hardys! Was this the strange music Santos had told his wife about?

  More cautious than ever, Frank and Joe crawled forward on elbows and stomachs. In a few minutes they had the campfire in sight. Seated around it were eight men. Two, who wore sombreros and sarapes, were not Indians, but the others appeared to be Indians. Their colorful garb looked like that worn by ancient Aztec tribes.

  Beyond the fire and barely perceptible in its glow stood an Indian, with a rifle nestled in the crook of his arm. He seemed to be guarding the prone figure of a man, wrapped in a blanket and lying on the ground beside him.

  Suddenly the two men wearing the sombreros got to their feet and began walking toward the spot where the boys were hiding. Quickly Frank and Joe moved behind a clump of brush and waited, their hearts pounding.

  The two men came to a stop within a few feet of them. “No me queda bien,” one said.

  Fearing they might have been discovered, the Hardys poised themselves for action.

  “Sh—speak English, amigo,” the man’s companion ordered. “If the others hear us, they will not know what we talk about.”

  “I do not care,” the first man replied defiantly. “Pavura does not frighten me. He has broken his promise. We were to be paid for our work. Yet I have not seen a single peso.”

  The boys gave inward sighs of relief! The men were unaware of their presence!

  “Let us speak to Pavura when we return with the American,” said the second man. “We will demand payment!”

  The two men returned to the campfire, and the Hardys crept back to their own camp and reported what they had learned.

  “You say they have an American with them?” Chet said.

  “Yes,” Frank replied. “He must be the one we spotted lying on the ground.”

  “I wonder who he is,” Chet said.

  “Will you try to rescue him?” Tico inquired.

  “Not right away,” Frank replied. “First we’re going to follow those men and see where they’re going.”

  “In rough country like this?” Chet countered. “Impossible.”

  “I can be of help to you,” Tico said. “My grandfather was Indian. As a young child he taught me much about tracking. I am sure I can follow their trail.”

  Frank outlined a plan. He, Joe, and Tico would go to keep an eye on the men. When their quarry made ready to leave, Joe would return to their own camp and tell Chet.

  “Tico and I will mark a clear trail for you two as we go along,” Frank told his brother. “You can then follow us at a safe distance with our burros and equipment.”

  “Sounds like a workable plan to me,” Joe commented. “By the way, I noticed those fellows didn’t have any horses or burros. They must be traveling on foot.”

  “That’ll make it a lot easier for us,” Frank concluded.

  Since the situation prevented them from lighting a fire, the boys had a cold supper of canned meat and vegetables. Then Frank started back across the gully with his brother and Tico. When they spotted the encampment, they saw that the men had gone to sleep. One Indian remained awake to stand guard.

  “We have a long night ahead of us,” Frank said in a hushed voice. “Let’s rotate a watch. I’ll take the first shift. You two get some sleep.”

  At dawn the camp suddenly became alive with men scurrying about. Tico, who was the last to keep watch, shook his companions awake.

  “I believe the men prepare to leave,” he whispered excitedly.

  Frank and Joe spied on the activity. One of the two men, wearing a sombrero and sarape, walked over to the prone figure wrapped in a blanket.

  “I think you have enough siesta, senor,” the man snapped sarcastically. “We go now.” He pulled off the blanket to reveal a thin, gray-haired bespectacled man, tied hand and foot.

  Elmer Tremmer! The Hardys gasped at sight of the pathetic figure, whom they recognized from a photograph in their father’s dossier.

  “Why did you tie me up?” Tremmer complained timidly. “I wasn’t trying to run away!”

  The man with the sombrero bent down and untied him. “I take no chances. Pavura would not like it if we return without you.” He then pulled his prisoner to his feet.

  According to plan, Joe hurried off to rejoin Chet. Frank and Tico watched as their quarry broke camp and headed in a direction that would take them deeper into the mountains.

  “We’ll give them a head start,” Frank remarked.

  Tico proved to be an excellent tracker. He quickly picked up the trail and followed it with ease. Frank marked their course by forming directional arrows on the ground with stones and twigs.

  It was just about midday when Tico suddenly came to a halt. “Look!” he said in a low voice. “There are the men!”

  Just ahead Frank saw their quarry. The men were seated on the ground. One Indian was distributing dried maize among them.

  “They’ve stopped to eat,” Frank said. “We’d better do the same, Tico.”

  The boys pulled several cans of rations from their pockets and ate quickly, then waited until the men set off again. It was almost dark before Frank and Tico had their quarry in sight once more.

  The men were assembled in a clearing surrounded by steep, rugged hills. At the base of one hill was a large boulder which several Indians shoved aside. Behind it was the entrance to a cave. The men entered, pushing Tremmer ahead of them. Several Indians remained outside to replace the boulder and stand guard.

  “This is their hideout!” Frank said excitedly. “Let’s backtrack and meet Joe and Chet before they reach this spot. The burros are likely to make noise and give us away.”

  Returning along the trail, the two boys traveled nearly a mile before they met the others.

  “Leaping lizards!” Joe exclaimed as his brother told where the trail had led. “You say they went into a cave?”

  “That’s right,” Frank answered. “Let’s recon noiter the area in the morning. Maybe we can find out what they’re up to.”

  The boys made camp close by and ate supper. All slept soundly. Shortly before dawn, Frank awakened and aroused the others.

  “We’ll go back to the place where Tico and I spotted the cave,” he said. “It’ll be better if we go before daylight. Also, one of us will have to stay here and guard the camp and burros.”

  “I guess I’m elected again,” Chet grumbled.

  Tico observed his expression of disappointment. “I shall stay here,” he announced with a smile.

  The Hardys started out with Chet along the marked trail. When they arrived at their destination, they selected a hiding place from where they could view the cave. Within the hour the sun began to appear above the crest of the mountains.

  “There are the Indian guards,” Frank whispered as light spilled into the clearing.

  “They’re all asleep,” Joe observed.


  “Those guys don’t seem to be taking their jobs seriously,” Chet added.

  “Obviously they don’t expect outsiders to be roaming around these mountains,” Frank said.

  Finally the guards began to awaken. They scrambled to their feet and rolled aside the boulder covering the cave entrance. Soon, about forty Indians emerged and hurried off as if on an urgent mission.

  “Look at all those men,” Joe hissed. “Where could they be headed?”

  The boys watched as the guards went into the cave and, seconds later, reappeared with Tremmer. They marched off after the others, leaving only one man behind. The Indian found a shady spot at the edge of the clearing and promptly went to sleep again.

  “Now’s our chance to take a look inside,” Joe whispered.

  The boys crept from their hiding place and across the clearing. They froze in their tracks when the sleeping Indian grunted, but he did not wake up.

  When they reached the cave entrance, Frank whispered, “Be careful. There might still be someone in there.”

  The searchers crept cautiously through the entrance. Inside, they found a spacious cavern. Through the gloom, faintly illuminated by several nearly burned-out torches, the boys saw that the cave was empty.

  Joe suddenly grasped his brother’s arm. “Look! In the center of the floor ! It’s the sym bol!”

  They all stared in awe at a large stone altar. On it was carved a cluster of branches or faggots. And mounted on top was a stone inscribed with the letter P.

  Quietly Joe climbed up the side of the altar. At the top, he saw that a deep, circular channel had been cut into the stone. Charred bits of wood indicated that the channel was used to hold a fire.

  “Holy crow!” he said to himself. “I wonder if this is some kind of cult.”

  Frank, meanwhile, in searching for clues, came upon a large section of damaged stone at the base of the altar. The broken fragment had been set back loosely into place. He pulled it away slightly and peered in through the opening.

  The lower portion of the altar proved to be hollow.

  “Hey, fellows!” Frank whispered. “Take a look at this.”

  “Caramba!” Chet exclaimed. “And see this, Frank.” He moved toward the far corner of the cave. In the shadows was a stack of empty wooden crates marked MACHINERY.