“You haul in your horns. If it’s so easy why don’t you do it yourself? Now listen, I told you I don’t belong to your outfit and I ain’t taking orders from your chief—not me. See? I heard on good authority that there are some of the Don’s own tribe in that works—and I’m not buttin’ in against any of them. That’s flat and final,” he declared emphatically.
Then, into Jim’s mind dashed the recollection of the evening he and Bob had dined with Don Haurea at the Box Z ranch, which adjoined the K-A along Cap Rock in Texas. They were so well entertained by their new friend that they failed to note the passage of the hours and it was quite late when an automobile brought a former housekeeper of the ranch, a lawyer with a brief-case full of legal documents, and a man whom they claimed was a son of Don Haurea’s father. The Don had made short work of them, and now, Jim was sure that he recognized the broad back of Ollie, who had posed as the son. Even to the boys the scheme had seemed too stupid for anyone with a grain of sense to take part in or try to put over, but later the Don had explained that it was an attempt to get him and his property tied up by law. While there could be no possible doubt as to the outcome of the suit if the matter ever got as far as that, the rogues expected to have an uninterrupted opportunity to ferret out ancient secrets and perhaps find great wealth which they thought was concealed somewhere about the Box-Z Ranch. The Flying Buddies exchanged surprised glances, but neither moved nor spoke as they sat listening.
“You should not be afraid—” the man sneered.
“Afraid, that’s good! Well, big boy, maybe I am afraid, but I’m not touchin’ the job, see! I got something myself that ain’t such little potatoes as blowing up a power-plant or putting a crimp in the works. That’s my answer.”
“In your answer I am interested.”
“Maybe you are, and maybe you ain’t, but if you knew what it was, you would be—and how,” Ollie retorted.
“You have perhaps discovered a gold mine!” the man suggested.
“I have, perhaps, and perhaps it’s something better than gold. Now, you listen. You know I was flying with another guy to Cuzco to meet you, and we came down like a thousand bricks,” Ollie said.
“That I have heard. I watched the funeral of the pilot and I sent to you flowers and jelly and wine to the hospital,” the other man answered casually.
“Yah. Well, I crawled out of the wreck after somebody else had picked up the pilot and took him to the hospital. Then I tried to make a fire to keep warm by and signal, and while I was asleep it burned up what was left of the plane. I had to get a move on or be cooked myself, and I nearly was. I found some berries and roots that I ate and days afterward I managed to drag myself to a trapper’s hut, and the man took me to the nearest settlement. Now—when I was crawling from that bon-fire, I found something swell—swell.” He straightened his back and cocked back his head. “Waiter,” he shouted. “More wine—plenty more.”