Read Online The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online

and Chet were requested to go along in their own car and tell their story to the officer in charge.
    When the boys arrived at headquarters, Chief Diaz was there. He was not on duty but had dropped in to pick up some papers. When he heard the story of the encounter, the officer beamed at them.
    â€œBravo!” he said. “We could use more of your kind here to help us discipline our lawbreakers.”
    Chief Diaz waited until the boys had made a formal charge against their attackers, then he walked outside with them.
    â€œI have been trying to reach you boys on the phone to tell you something,” he said. “A few hours ago I heard a rumor that an archaeologist had just made a great discovery at Monte Alban. I wondered if he might be the man you’re looking for.”
    â€œSeñor Tatloc?” Frank asked.
    â€œNo one knows,” the officer answered. “The report was that a traveler had arrived in town with the information. He said the archaeologist did not wish to be identified. I’m inclined to think he may be Senor Tatloc.”
    â€œThen we shouldn’t waste any time getting down to those ruins and looking for him,” Joe said eagerly.
    The Hardys queried the chief further about what the discovery was. His information was scanty. The traveler who had reported the news had not revealed the nature of the find.
    The archaeologist probably was still at Monte Alban, looking for other treasures of antiquity. If he were Senor Tatloc, the boys had a good chance of locating him!
    â€œIt’s pretty late to start for the ruins tonight,” Frank remarked. “I hear there’s a long detour through the mountains. Suppose we get up early tomorrow. With steady driving we should be there by evening.”
    When the boys reached their hotel room, they studied the map and decided to stop at Oaxaca, a small city three hundred and fifty miles south-east of Mexico City.
    â€œWe’ll stay at a hotel there,” Frank said, “then go out to Monte Alban.”
    The young detectives got an early start but found plenty of traffic on the Pan-American Highway. In a couple of hours they had to branch off onto secondary roads through the mountains. There were sharp curves which Frank took carefully, sounding his horn frequently. Approaching drivers, apparently familiar with the road, did not bother to warn of their approach and whizzed around the corners at breakneck speed.
    â€œWhew!” cried Chet, as a car narrowly missed them. “That driver must have hot tamales in his engine!”
    The boys found the scenery gorgeous. Mountains were rugged, steep, and often merely bare granite rock. Some were gray in color, reminding the boys of those they were used to seeing in the Bayport area. But a great many cliffs were pink and in the dazzling sunlight stood out like rare paintings.
    Joe was particularly impressed with the cacti. There were many varieties—from the low-growing, tulip-shaped maguey to the mammoth candle cactus. This resembled a giant green-and-silver candelabra with very tall candles of the same color.
    Once the travelers came to a plateau on which grew a cactus orchard.
    â€œHey! Wait a minute!” Chet cried out.
    Frank pulled to the side of the road and stopped. Chet pointed to a Mexican, wearing an enormous sombrero, who was kneeling on the ground, his face buried in one of the cactus plants.
    â€œI guess he’s having a drink,” said Joe. “Shall we all go over and get one?”
    â€œI’m not sure we should drink raw cactus juice,” Frank said, “but let’s talk to the man anyway.”
    As the boys drew closer, they were astounded to see what the Mexican was doing. As he raised his head from the plant, he held a long brown thorn in his teeth. To it was attached what looked like a stout white thread. To the boys’ amazement, the man kept tugging like a bird pulling a worm from the soil. In a few moments he stood up with a