The Clue in the Embers

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Tecum-Uman, he say big celebration to honor four boys,” a panting messenger had told the villagers, running from house to house.

  Immediately all of the Indians’ bright-colored finery was brought out. Women adorned themselves in gay festival dresses and prepared great dishes of food for the banquet.

  Meanwhile, the menfolk had built fires in the barbecue pits and started roasting chunks of tender beef and pork on the turning spits. The children linked fresh flowers into streamers and strung them above the entrance to the village. Each cottage flew the Guatemalan flag. Musicians tuned up their primitive instruments and awaited the arrival of the heroes. By the time the Hardys arrived with Chet and Tony, everything was ready.

  “Smell that!” Chet said, sniffing the delicious aroma of the roasting meat. “It must be true that we’re going to have a feast. I can’t wait!”

  The native band started playing as the boys looked around, smiling. To the cheers of the Indians, the visitors were escorted to a low, decorated table in the public square.

  Young Indian girls passed huge dishes of fruits, maize, beans, and meat.

  During the meal Tecum-Uman told the boys that he had already sent word to the Guatemalan president requesting that each of them be given a gold souvenir from the buried palace as a token of his country’s gratefulness.

  “We don’t expect a reward,” said Joe. “We’ve had a grand time visiting your beautiful country.”

  The old chief looked pleased.

  The Hardys and their friends remained in the village for the next two days. Finally federal officers arrived to take the prisoners. And with them was a grinning Jorge Almeida, bearing a large white envelope.

  Jorge hopped off the mule he was riding. “You heroes, amigos!” he cried. “Why you not tell me you look for this treasure? Never would I go back to the city!”

  After explaining why secrecy had been important, Tony asked how Jorge had learned about the treasure.

  “Why, all the papers tell about the great thing you did,” the man said excitedly.

  Then Jorge told how he had personally called on the president and related his part in the adventure. When he had requested permission to come out and see the treasure, the president had said that he could accompany the police and deliver the letter he now carried.

  “It is for all of you,” he said, handing the envelope to Joe. The letter, signed with the president’s name, thanked the boys for the discovery and requested that they each take home a souvenir.

  Later that afternoon the four Americans and Jorge journeyed to the ancient site with Tecum-Uman. While the chief led Jorge through the palace rooms, the boys decided on what souvenirs they would choose.

  Chet picked up a large, jeweled bowl. “This must be what the king used for his special dinners,” he said. “It’s just the thing for me!”

  “Are you sure it’s big enough?” Joe quipped with a grin.

  Chet made a face. “I can always use it as a dessert bowl.”

  A delicately carved bracelet of gold was Frank’s choice. He knew his mother would like it.

  “And I’ll take this for Aunt Gertrude,” Joe decided, picking up a small golden idol. “It may even try to talk back to her!”

  As Tony selected an ancient, gold-encrusted bow and arrow, he said, “On our way home let’s stop in New York and see Willie Wortman. Those medallions have served their purpose and I’ll give him the one I have.”

  “This way the curse is broken!” Joe grinned.

  “For a while it really looked as if there was a curse on them,” Frank agreed.

  For a short time the Hardys were to be free of a mystery. Then another, called The Secret of Pirates’ Hill, was to come their way and involve Frank and Joe in a series of harrowing and dangerous experiences. But at the moment this was far from their thoughts.

  “This place hokay!” Jorge exclaimed when he joined the boys. His eyes sparkling, he added, “I would not mind living in luxury like this!”

  Joe laughed. “You’re too busy driving your taxi!”

  “Oh, yes. You must see my new one! The horn, she is like music. I park her back at trading village. We pick her up and you ride to city with me?”

  “Sure. But how about that volcano? The road must still be blocked,” Joe said.

  Jorge grinned. “I find new way!”