<h2 id="c3"><span class="small">CHAPTER III</span> <br/>The Hidden Boathouse</h2>
<p>Mr. Brewster swung about at Biff’s warning, an
instant too late. The hand had already clutched the
map and was snatching it from his grasp. The map
tore apart, leaving only a corner in Mr. Brewster’s
hand.</p>
<p>Quickly, Biff’s father dove for the closet door, intending
to slam it and trap the occupant, map and all.
But the man in the closet moved swiftly, too. He
flung the door wide, and its edge swept past Mr.
Brewster’s fingers as the man dived under his arm.
Biff, crouched low, was about to stop the intruder
with a football tackle when Mr. Brewster overtook
the fugitive, applied a powerful arm-hold, and
brought him full about.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div>
<p>Biff saw that the struggling man’s face was masked
behind a large, knotted bandanna handkerchief, and
that his rough, baggy clothes disguised his height and
weight. As he twisted in Mr. Brewster’s grasp, the
man managed to thrust his hand into the folds of his
jacket and whip out a revolver. Coming about, he
aimed point-blank at Mr. Brewster.</p>
<p>Biff’s father dropped away a split second before
the revolver barked, its muzzle tonguing flame inches
above his head. Then, before the masked man could
fire again, Mr. Brewster wheeled about, grabbed a
small table with both hands, and flung it bodily at
his masked foe.</p>
<p>The man darted out of the way, only to find Biff
blocking his escape. Biff heard a snarl from behind
the bandanna, and saw the glint of the gun barrel as
the man swung the weapon with a savage, downward
stroke. Instinctively, Biff shot his own hand upward,
using the trick that Serbot had shown him on the
plane that very day.</p>
<p>The heel of Biff’s hand caught the man’s wrist,
driving it outward. The impact jolted the gun from
his hand, but the weapon scaled toward the side of the
room and clattered near the bottom of the wall, where
Mr. Brewster sprang across and scooped it from the
floor, practically on the rebound.</p>
<p>The masked man hadn’t tried to retrieve the gun.
Instead, he dashed through the doorway to the hall,
still clutching the stolen map. Biff raced after him,
with Mr. Brewster close behind. They might have
overtaken the fugitive if he had gone down the stairway
to the lobby, but instead he chose a shorter route
to a large open window at the other end of the hall.
There, he leaped a low railing, carrying a loose screen
with him. When Biff reached the window and looked
down into the dark, the man had vanished in the thick
mesh of tropical foliage that had broken his fall.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div>
<p>“No use trying to go after him,” decided Mr.
Brewster ruefully. “We don’t even know the direction
he has taken. The hotel clerk will have heard the shot.
We’ll let him report the incident to the police. They’ll
figure it was just a sneak thief.”</p>
<p>“But what about the map?” Biff inquired anxiously.
“How will you find the route to the Orinoco without
it?”</p>
<p>“I still have the corner that shows the mine itself,”
declared Mr. Brewster, holding it for Biff to see. “And
Joe Nara would have to guide us there anyway.”</p>
<p>Biff’s father frowned. “We <i>may</i> have trouble getting
through to the Orinoco, if someone tries to block
our way. But from there on, it should be smooth sailing.
Mr. Stannart says in his letter that he will bring
his yacht to meet us on our way back, and will sign
the agreement with Nara, then and there.”</p>
<p>Returning to their room, Biff and his father met the
manager of the hotel hastening up the stairs. Mr.
Brewster told him briefly that they had surprised a
sneak thief in their room, and handed over the intruder’s
revolver. With profuse apologies, the manager departed
after Mr. Brewster refused his offer to have the
room put in order.</p>
<p>When they were alone, Biff’s father said, “It was
neat, the way you disarmed that fellow. Where did
you learn that trick?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div>
<p>“From Mr. Serbot,” replied Biff, “the man I met on
the plane coming from Belem.”</p>
<p>While they were repacking Mr. Brewster’s bags and
clearing up the room, Biff told his father about the
things they had discussed on the plane. Mr. Brewster
listened intently, then asked:</p>
<p>“Did you tell Serbot that I was stopping at this
hotel?”</p>
<p>“Positively not,” returned Biff. “He couldn’t possibly
have learned it—unless—”</p>
<p>“Unless what?”</p>
<p>“Unless he saw the envelope,” exclaimed Biff in a
hollow tone. “It nearly worked out of my pocket
while I was asleep. Mr. Serbot <i>might</i> have drawn it
out that far. When I looked at him, though, he was
asleep, with his hands folded.”</p>
<p>“Playing innocent, perhaps. Did he seem to make a
habit of folding his hands?”</p>
<p>“No, that was the only time I saw them folded.
Dad”—Biff’s tone became worried—“do you think
Mr. Serbot read the address on the envelope and
phoned someone from the airport, and told them to
come up here?”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be surprised,” his father asserted grimly.
“The envelope has the return address of the Ajax
Mining Corporation, and that would identify us to
anyone who is trying to beat us to the El Dorado
mine. But let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster had finished packing his bags. He
picked them up and nodded for Biff to bring his, too.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div>
<p>“We’ll send these out to the airport,” Mr. Brewster
declared. “There’s a plane going up the Rio Negro
at dawn, and our luggage can go on it. We may take
that plane, or perhaps a later one. We’ll see.”</p>
<p>They made arrangements with the hotel porter to
handle the baggage. After that, Mr. Brewster decided
that they should go out for dinner so Biff could see the
city. Once on the lighted streets of Manaus, Biff realized
how futile it would be to look for the baggily
clad man who had stolen the map. Dozens of workmen
who passed them were dressed in similar attire,
even to a bandanna worn as a neckerchief.</p>
<p>The gay life of the tropical city impressed Biff.
There were brilliantly lighted downtown cafés, and
Mr. Brewster chose one where they were served half
a dozen courses of tasty, highly seasoned food, finishing
with ice cream that Biff thought was the best
he had ever eaten. He had just swallowed the last
spoonful when he suddenly exclaimed:</p>
<p>“Look, Dad! Those two men sitting at that table
in the corner! One of them is Mr. Serbot!”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster had no difficulty in picking out Serbot
from Biff’s earlier description, though the scar on
the smiling man’s cheek was scarcely visible in the
soft light of the café. Serbot’s companion was shorter
and chunkier, with a broad face, quick, narrow eyes,
and straight lips.</p>
<p>“Introduce me on the way out,” Mr. Brewster told
Biff. “I would like to size up that pair.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div>
<p>A few minutes later, Biff’s father was shaking hands
with Serbot, who immediately introduced his stocky
companion.</p>
<p>“This is Senhor Armandeo,” stated Serbot. “Pepito
Armandeo, known as Grande Pepito, or Big Pepito,
as you would call him in English. He is a famous
wrestler.” Smoothly, Serbot changed the subject.
“You have a very intelligent son, Senhor Brewster. I
enjoyed my trip with him. You are interested in rubber,
Senhor?”</p>
<p>“What else,” asked Mr. Brewster, “would bring me
to Manaus?”</p>
<p>Serbot’s response was a noticeable increase of his
perpetual smile. He bowed as he made the parting
comment:</p>
<p>“Perhaps we have mutual interests, Senhor.”</p>
<p>Outside the café, Mr. Brewster spoke reflectively.</p>
<p>“Perhaps Serbot and I do have mutual interests,” he
said. “In something bigger than rubber. Something
like gold.”</p>
<p>They climbed into the jeep, and Mr. Brewster
drove past the Amazonas Theater, the magnificent
opera house that had been built when Manaus was a
boom town in the jungle. Mr. Brewster mentioned
that to Biff as they went by; but Biff realized that his
father was thinking of something else. Finally, he
said:</p>
<p>“I am not surprised that you suspected Serbot. He
strikes me as being very shrewd. I am doubtful of his
friend, Big Pepito, too.”</p>
<p>“Then maybe Serbot sent Pepito to steal the map!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div>
<p>“Don’t jump to conclusions too quickly, Biff.” Mr.
Brewster smiled as he spoke. “I still can’t understand
how Serbot could have learned so much. Nobody
knew my plans except Mr. Stannart.”</p>
<p>“What about the directors of the Ajax Company,
Dad?”</p>
<p>“Once they agreed, they gave Stannart full say. Our
dealings were confidential. Stannart sent me funds to
buy safari equipment which I shipped here to Manaus
ahead of me.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Serbot talked about safaris on the plane
trip.”</p>
<p>“So you told me, Biff.” Mr. Brewster frowned.
“I’m beginning to think that somebody found out
about our plans here in Manaus. Pepito, for instance,
could have learned of the safari shipments and sent
word to Serbot. But Hal Whitman should have suspected
something and informed me.”</p>
<p>“Hal Whitman? Who is he, Dad?”</p>
<p>“The man who received the shipments here. He assembled
them secretly in a boathouse a few miles up
the river. Later, he loaded all the supplies and took
them far up the river to an old landing above Santa
Isabel. He is waiting there for us to join him.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster halted the car at an intersection and
pondered for a few moments. Then he said:</p>
<p>“Somebody could have snooped around that boathouse
after Whitman left. They might have learned
where the shipments came from and perhaps gained
some link between Whitman and myself. If we go out
there, we might pick up some clue ourselves. It’s
worth a try.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div>
<p>Mr. Brewster headed for the outskirts of the city.
The road became rougher, and he was handling the
jeep in its best puddle-jumping style as he added:</p>
<p>“Maybe some spies are still around the boathouse,
trying to learn what else they can. In that case, we
can surprise them. If the boathouse is empty, we can
wait inside it and see if anyone shows up later.”</p>
<p>As the jeep swung beneath an arch of trees, Biff
was startled by what looked like human figures jumping
from bough to bough in the glow of the moonlight.
Mr. Brewster laughed.</p>
<p>“Just monkeys. Don’t let them worry you. There
is the boathouse. You can see our headlights reflected
in its windows.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster cut off the headlights as he spoke,
but oddly, the reflection persisted for a few moments
more. Biff thought it was his imagination, but his father
decided otherwise.</p>
<p>“Someone is moving around inside with a flashlight,”
he whispered. “The boathouse is on pontoons
to allow for the rise and fall of the river. If we reach
the gangplank first, we can trap them before they
come ashore.”</p>
<p>Silently Biff and his father slipped out of the jeep
and crept forward beneath overhanging boughs that
Biff could hear creak above him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div>
<p>This time, he was thinking about people in the boathouse,
not monkeys in the trees. He was watching for
a flashlight instead of looking up into the moonlight.
That proved to be a bad mistake.</p>
<p>Two living human figures dropped from the
branches like massive rubber balls, one taking Biff as
a target, the other landing squarely on Mr. Brewster.
In their hands, these silent, shadowy attackers carried
thin ropes that they looped around the necks of their
victims as they flattened them.</p>
<p>Biff heard his father give a short, gurgling cry.
Then Biff was gasping as the cord tightened around
his own neck. Next, his captor clapped a cloth to his
face, and Biff was stifled by a strong, pungent odor
that completely overpowered him. His head seemed
to burst with stabs of flashing light that turned to utter
blackness as his senses left him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />