like diamond drills in his expressionless face.
Smitty thought of something. “Doggone it!” he said. “We were going to have Heber guide us to where Stahl is. Now the guy’s gone. How’ll we get to the right place?”
“We’ll have to wait till we get our hands on the mon,” sighed Mac.
But Nellie had another idea. “That little native!” she exclaimed. “He’s from the region we want to visit.” She looked confidently at The Avenger. “You know most dialects,” she said. “Maybe you can worm the location out of him.”
“That is possible,” Benson said. “I know most of the dialects of Brazil, at least. We’ll see what he has to say.”
What the native had to say was—nothing.
Smitty had thought he’d searched the little dark monkey man pretty thoroughly. But it seemed he hadn’t. There had been one more poisoned dart, not in the regular quiver. And while they were all down in Heber’s room, the bent little Indian had used it.
Calmly, stoically, he had pricked himself with it, and he died as The Avenger tried to inject some of the curare antidote into his veins.
“So it’s Heber or nothing,” said Mac.
The Avenger nodded. “We must find him. He must guide us. Otherwise, we might search the jungle north of the Negro River for years and never find a trace of Stahl. I have been through there. I know how immense and impenetrable that region is.”
“But where,” gloomed Nellie, “can we find the guy? He’s hiding in fear of his life. And there are an awful lot of places in New York to hide in.”
CHAPTER VII
Lucky Shot
The first thing they did was look all through the rooms Heber had occupied for twenty-four hours to see if there was a clue as to where he’d gone.
There wasn’t. And really none of them had expected to find one. It was probable that Heber hadn’t known, himself, when he clubbed Josh down in his terror and fled, just where he would go to hide.
They found several other things, though.
For one thing, he had taken that bottle of Pinkish stuff with him. But, then, it would have been funny if he hadn’t. Naturally, he’d want to keep up the injections till he was completely cured.
For another thing, he had cut off some of his hair, or something. On the dresser, The Avenger found half a dozen wiry, flaming-red hairs of about the length to have grown on the man’s head. Which seemed very odd.
“Where,” wailed Nellie, “could he be? We don’t even know where to start to look.”
“Yes, we do,” said The Avenger quietly.
“Huh?”
“He will not be hiding out,” said Benson.
“But—”
“If there is one thing certain, it is that this place has been carefully watched since Heber entered. He couldn’t get away without being seen. He won’t be hiding out. They’ll have got him by now.”
“So?” said Smitty.
“So they’ll be starting for Brazil as soon as possible and as fast as possible.”
Smitty nodded. “I get it. They wanted him for the same reason we did—to guide us to that place where all the radium lies around. That was why they tried to kidnap him in the first place at Mac’s store, instead of killing him as they did the Indian.”
Nellie said, “The fastest way is by plane.”
“Right,” said Mac.
“So if we watch the airfields—” Nellie began. Then her shoulders drooped. “But they could have a plane of their own, hidden anywhere within a thousand-mile radius. Looks to me like we can’t possibly locate them in time.”
Benson went to his big desk. He took out a map of the western hemisphere and drew a straight line from New York, U.S.A., to Manaos, Brazil.
The line went almost straight south—a little east of south. It passed near Trinidad and other former bases of the United States.
“They won’t try the airlanes close to army and navy airfields,” Benson decided. “They’ll probably ride the coast line down, and jump to Brazil from Florida or Cuba.”
“That takes in a lot of territory,” said Mac
Smitty thought of something. “Doggone it!” he said. “We were going to have Heber guide us to where Stahl is. Now the guy’s gone. How’ll we get to the right place?”
“We’ll have to wait till we get our hands on the mon,” sighed Mac.
But Nellie had another idea. “That little native!” she exclaimed. “He’s from the region we want to visit.” She looked confidently at The Avenger. “You know most dialects,” she said. “Maybe you can worm the location out of him.”
“That is possible,” Benson said. “I know most of the dialects of Brazil, at least. We’ll see what he has to say.”
What the native had to say was—nothing.
Smitty had thought he’d searched the little dark monkey man pretty thoroughly. But it seemed he hadn’t. There had been one more poisoned dart, not in the regular quiver. And while they were all down in Heber’s room, the bent little Indian had used it.
Calmly, stoically, he had pricked himself with it, and he died as The Avenger tried to inject some of the curare antidote into his veins.
“So it’s Heber or nothing,” said Mac.
The Avenger nodded. “We must find him. He must guide us. Otherwise, we might search the jungle north of the Negro River for years and never find a trace of Stahl. I have been through there. I know how immense and impenetrable that region is.”
“But where,” gloomed Nellie, “can we find the guy? He’s hiding in fear of his life. And there are an awful lot of places in New York to hide in.”
CHAPTER VII
Lucky Shot
The first thing they did was look all through the rooms Heber had occupied for twenty-four hours to see if there was a clue as to where he’d gone.
There wasn’t. And really none of them had expected to find one. It was probable that Heber hadn’t known, himself, when he clubbed Josh down in his terror and fled, just where he would go to hide.
They found several other things, though.
For one thing, he had taken that bottle of Pinkish stuff with him. But, then, it would have been funny if he hadn’t. Naturally, he’d want to keep up the injections till he was completely cured.
For another thing, he had cut off some of his hair, or something. On the dresser, The Avenger found half a dozen wiry, flaming-red hairs of about the length to have grown on the man’s head. Which seemed very odd.
“Where,” wailed Nellie, “could he be? We don’t even know where to start to look.”
“Yes, we do,” said The Avenger quietly.
“Huh?”
“He will not be hiding out,” said Benson.
“But—”
“If there is one thing certain, it is that this place has been carefully watched since Heber entered. He couldn’t get away without being seen. He won’t be hiding out. They’ll have got him by now.”
“So?” said Smitty.
“So they’ll be starting for Brazil as soon as possible and as fast as possible.”
Smitty nodded. “I get it. They wanted him for the same reason we did—to guide us to that place where all the radium lies around. That was why they tried to kidnap him in the first place at Mac’s store, instead of killing him as they did the Indian.”
Nellie said, “The fastest way is by plane.”
“Right,” said Mac.
“So if we watch the airfields—” Nellie began. Then her shoulders drooped. “But they could have a plane of their own, hidden anywhere within a thousand-mile radius. Looks to me like we can’t possibly locate them in time.”
Benson went to his big desk. He took out a map of the western hemisphere and drew a straight line from New York, U.S.A., to Manaos, Brazil.
The line went almost straight south—a little east of south. It passed near Trinidad and other former bases of the United States.
“They won’t try the airlanes close to army and navy airfields,” Benson decided. “They’ll probably ride the coast line down, and jump to Brazil from Florida or Cuba.”
“That takes in a lot of territory,” said Mac
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