“I’m afraid Rhodes told us the truth when he said the country hereabouts is impossible. Once we left the trail, we’d have to hack our way foot by foot. We’d have no chance of reaching Carlos’ hide-out without a guide. And who knows the way?”
“What’s more,” Ken added, “if we did succeed in finding it, we’d be no match for Carlos and his armed followers. They’d make short work of us.”
“Then what’s to be done?” Jack asked in discouragement. “Give up? Return to Bogota or Cartagena?”
“I’ve thought it over, and I intend to stay here at the mine for a day or two at least,” Mr. Livingston told him. “I’m not convinced that Corning is dead. If there should be a ransom demand, I want to be on hand when it comes.”
“Will Rhodes let us stay, do you think?” Jack questioned doubtfully.
“He may become quite unpleasant,” Mr. Livingston admitted. “We’ll ignore his hints to leave, and see what happens. Circulate a bit, meanwhile, and see what information you can pick up. I’ll do likewise.”
Quitting the little office, the three went out into the bright sunlight. Jack noted that Mrs. Rhodes was seated in the screened porch of Corning’s former dwelling. Although she appeared to be reading a magazine, he noticed that her gaze followed the trio.
Workmen were coming up out of the mine pit, to eat their lunch. The man whom McClellan Rhodes had abused, sat down with his back to a rock and began munching a cold tortilla. Jack sauntered over to speak to him.
Before he had spoken more than a phrase of halting Spanish, he heard heavy steps behind him. Turning, he saw Rhodes bearing down upon him.
“You are not to talk to the workmen,” he told Jack harshly. “A company rule.”