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would come and kill us for not leaving the vicinity."
"Alex Savage warned you again two days ago?"
"Yes."
"It was not Alex Savage!" Doc said flatly.
"But he said his name was Alex Savage!"
"Alex Savage has been dead more than a week."
Cere placed a hand over her heart. "In that case we have been terribly mistaken. This other man was a fake!"
"Any one can be misled," Doc assured her. "Now, suppose you tell me exactly what is behind all this."
The girl nodded. "You have heard of Sir Henry Morgan?"
"The pirate?"
"That is the one," Cere replied. "In the year 1670 he started across the Isthmus of Panama with twelve
hundred men. The Spaniards received warning of his coming. Treasure from the Panama City cathedral, and
wealth belonging to merchants, was loaded onto a galleon. This craft fled out to sea, carrying some of the
owners of the treasure besides the crew."
"That incident is a matter of history," Doc told her. "The pirate Esquemeling, who was with Morgan at the
sacking of Panama, wrote of the galleon in his book. Shortly after he had captured Panama, Morgan heard of
this treasure craft. He knew the treasure to be of more value than all else the expedition had secured put
together. He seized several Spanish boats, and sent them out in pursuit of the galleon. But they did not find
the craft."
"And for a very good reason, Senor Savage," Cere resumed. "Part of the galleon crew had mutinied,
murdered the merchants and the others aboard, and seized the treasure."
"There is no historical record of such an occurrence!" Doc told her.
"In a moment I'll explain how I know it is true," Cere retorted. "These men who mutinied and seized the
galleon loaded with treasure, were not very intelligent. One of them had heard that there was a water passage
around North America. He converted his companions to his belief. They sailed north.
"The journey was long and full of hardship. The coast became bleak, and the climate cold. Finally, it was
necessary to anchor in a small bay, careen their boat, and make repairs to the hull. They pulled the galleon up
on the sandy floor of a small, canyonlike inlet. Bad luck plagued them. An earthquake caused the gulley side
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to topple over, burying the boat in a sort of cavern."
The Castilian beauty paused to stare steadily at Doc. "The spot where the boat met disaster was only a few
miles from here!"
"How do you know that?" Doc demanded.
Senorita Oveja shrugged. "My story will bring that out, Senor Savage. To get back to what happened
hundreds of years ago: not all the crew were on the galleon when it was entombed. About a dozen had
camped near by. They dug a tunnel to the tomb where their fellows lay. That took many days. Their comrades
were dead when reached. No doubt, by now, only their skeletons remain.
"The survivors thought to remove the treasure from the boat, but hostile Indians made that impossible. They
determined to leave it and travel southward until they found men of their own race. Later, they would come
back by sea.
"One of the men was an expert carver of ivory. He took six small flat pieces of ivory and made a relief
carving of the vicinity where the boat lay. He fitted these ivory pieces together, carved portions inward, and
made a box. This he packed with clay. Due to the cleverness of his construction, and the clay packing, the
box seemed solid."
"The ivory cube!" Doc said understandingly.
"Si, si!" Cere assured him. "Even when opened and spread flat, the relief map inside the box would be
apparent only to a close observer."
"Go ahead with your story," Doc directed.
"The men closed up the hole which led to the buried ship," Cere resumed. "They started south. Almost at
once, they were attacked. Several were slain, including the one who carried the box. The massacre took place
under a rock ledge In this vicinity. Those who escaped had to leave the box behind."
The girl made a somewhat shamefaced gesture. "One of those men who escaped was an ancestor of mine. He
left a written account of the incident. It was handed down in our family for centuries."
"This clears the situation a lot," Doc told her. "you and your father came for the treasure, eh?"
"Myself, my father, and El Rabanos," Cere corrected. "El Rabanos is financing us."
"You hoped the ivory block would still be under the ledge where the men were massacred?" Doc questioned.
Cere bobbed her attractive head. "Yes. But we were disappointed, senor. It was gone."
"Then you began searching for the galleon itself?"
"Si, si! But on this rugged coast, that is a hopeless task."
"And then this fake Alex Savage appeared with his lies, eh?" "Si, si!"
"One thing puzzles me," Doc said.
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"Quien sabe?" said the girl. "What is that?"
"How did you happen to be on the train?"
The young woman smiled archly at Doc. Obviously she was captivated by the bronze man's manners and
unmistakable character. For the last few minutes she had hardly taken her eyes off him.
Doc realized this, but carefully kept his bronze face expressionless. To Doc, young women were something
of a problem. There was no provision in his perilous existence for feminine company. It was necessary for
Doc to ignore all eligible girls - for the personal safety of the young things, it for no other reason.
Doc's enemies were legion. They would not hesitate to strike at him through a girl whom they thought he
liked.
The prettier the young women were, the harder Doc found it to gently repulse them. The more beautiful the
girl, the more stunned she was when the bronze man failed to bow before her charms; and the more vigorous
her renewed efforts to ensnare him.
"You have not answered my question," Doc reminded her. Senorita Cere Oveja colored prettily. "We were on
the train to get rid of you, so that you would not give us trouble."
"I trust you didn't contemplate a murder, senorita?" Doc said dryly.
"Gracias, no!" the Castilian beauty ejaculated.
Doc Savage nodded slowly. "I can see now why you suspected me," he said. "It was the work of the prowler
- the fellow who said he was Alex Savage."
Dark-eyed Cere said eagerly: "He told us he had sent for you to come and take our lives. Naturally, when we
got upon the train, we looked upon you as a sort of ogre. We had heard that you were famous for deeds of
violence."
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