the mine, Dad?”

“A whole mountain full,” replied Mr. Brewster, “from what Lew Kirby told me—before he died.”

The jeep was rolling smoothly now along a boulevard lined with fig trees, all neatly trimmed to a mushroom shape. But the story of the fabled gold mine interested Biff more than the sights of Manaus.

“Lew gave me a map,” continued Mr. Brewster, “showing the route that he followed to reach the headwaters of the Orinoco, though it does not give the exact location of the mine. To learn that, we must find Joe Nara. I hope that no one else finds him first.”

“Like the persons mentioned in Mr. Stannart’s letter?”

“That’s right, Biff. Despite Mr. Stannart’s constant urging, the directors of the Ajax Corporation have been painfully slow in providing funds for our trip. Meanwhile, Mr. Stannart says in his letter, certain foreign interests have learned of the mine and have moved into the picture. They may be the sort who will stop at nothing to get that mine!”

Before Biff could ask more questions, the jeep pulled up beside a modest, low-built structure that bore the sign: HOTEL JACARES. Looking about, Biff was surprised to see that it was growing dark and that the street lamps were already aglow.

“Night falls swiftly here in the tropics,” explained Mr. Brewster, as they went through the hotel lobby and up the stairs to the second floor. “That is why I lost no time coming from the airport. The driving is difficult after dark.”

Mr. Brewster unlocked the door of his room, turned on the light, then halted in amazement. The place was strewn with clothes from his suitcases. Sheets had been ripped from beds and mattresses cut open. Papers were scattered everywhere.

In a corner was a framed mirror hanging above a washstand. Mr. Brewster hurried over, took down the mirror, and laid it on a table beside a closet door. He pried away the backing of the mirror and brought out a sheet of paper that had been hidden there.

“This is what they were after!” he exclaimed. “The one thing they couldn’t find! Kirby’s map!”

As Mr. Brewster spoke, the closet door was opening slowly, but it was behind his shoulder and he didn’t see it. From the crack slid a long, bare human arm, and a hand reached for the prize that Mr. Brewster flourished. Frantically, Biff shouted:

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