CHAPTER SEVEN

On the Trail of "Mr. Seven"

The field manager, who had been supervising the refueling of the amphibian, came into the office and Sladek turned toward him.

"What do you know about the Cedar river country?" he asked.

"It's bad business for flyers," replied Hunter. "The entire valley is wooded, with many high bluffs, and if your motor goes bad there isn't a safe place to set down. All you can do is aim at some tree top and hope for the best."

"That's one reason I flew out here in an amphib. There shouldn't be much trouble landing on the river."

"Not unless you smack down and ram a sand bar or have a snag come up and smash in the bottom of your ship."

"That's encouraging. Doesn't look like we could go much further tonight. You'd better roll my ship into one of the hangars. We'll want to get an early start in the morning."

"If there's some particular place you want to know about in the valley, Tim Murphy may be able to help you," suggested Hunter.

"Who's Tim Murphy?" demanded Sladek.

"He's the flying reporter for the Atkinson _News_. He's flown all over that country and with the exception of a small field near the village of Auburn there isn't another place to land safely and then a big ship like yours couldn't make it."

"You can leave reporters out of this," snapped Sladek. "I guess I'll be able to get along all right."

Tim, standing behind him, grinned. He was certain that "Mr. Seven" and Jack Sladek were bound for the valley of the Cedar on the same mission. Neither one wanted publicity.

Sladek, his two bodyguards and his pilot, left the airport in a taxicab. After the amphib had been rolled into a hangar and berthed for the night, Hunter turned to Tim.

"What do you make of him?" he asked.

"He's after something big," said the flying reporter, "or he wouldn't have flown out here. Another thing, he doesn't want any publicity on his arrival. All of which makes me sure that there is a big story over in the valley of the Cedar."

"That means you'll be heading that way tomorrow morning."

"Maybe before that."

"Trying to land there in the dark would be suicide."

"I don't think a plane will do a whole lot of good on a story like this. I've a hunch that a car and a good pair of legs may be best."

It was eight-thirty when Tim returned to the office to plunge again into the files in quest of the identity of "Mr. Seven." A scrub woman at the other end of the office looked at him curiously, then went about her work. There was no explaining the action of these newspaper men who came and went at all hours of the night.

The day by day record of events slipped through Tim's fingers as he went through the file with new enthusiasm. Six months, then nine months and finally a year of action passed. A clock outside boomed eleven but still there was no clue to "Mr. Seven." Tim went to the library for a new supply of files and spread them out on his own desk and Ralph's. His eyes were getting heavy but he kept at the task.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he looked up to see the managing editor appear in the doorway.

"What's up, Tim?" asked Carson.

"Just trailing a story," replied the flying reporter, "and right now it looks like a mighty slim trail with the scent growing fainter every minute."

"Let's hear about it."

Tim recounted briefly the arrival of "Mr. Seven" and how he had aroused the interest of the flying reporter. Then he told of the arrival of Jack Sladek and linked the two together.

"They're after something in the Cedar river valley and if I could only get the key to the identity of 'Mr. Seven' I might know what to aim at."

The possibilities of the story caught the managing editor's vivid imagination.

"I'll give you a hand," he said, "you scan the pages on the right; I'll take the ones on the left. You've given me enough description so I ought to be able to recognize your man."

Editor and reporter sat down and took up the task together. Another half hour slipped by when Tim stopped suddenly. He looked at the page before him with almost unbelieving eyes. There, staring at him from the middle of a large feature, was the likeness of "Mr. Seven."

"Have you found him?" asked Carson.

"Yes," said Tim, but the word was automatic. He was reading the caption over the picture and the words, "Grenville Ford, Adventurer and Globe Trotter," burned their way into his mind. This then, was "Mr. G. Seven."

"Why that's Ford, the globe trotter. He was with Byrd at the South Pole and with Adamson when he made his round the world flight two years ago."

"I'm positive that the man I know as 'Mr. Seven' is Ford," said Tim. "The likeness is unmistakable and you must remember that I have seen 'Mr. Seven' at close range a number of times."

"Has anyone else seen him?"

"Both Dan Watkins and Ralph," said Tim.

"Then get them on the phone and have them come to the office right away."

Ralph, roused from a sound sleep, promised to come at once as did the head of the copydesk. Tim heard an exclamation from the managing editor as he replaced the receiver on its hook.

"I've found the key to the presence of both Ford and Sladek in the middle west," he said. "Listen to this:

"NEW YORK CITY--(Special to the Atkinson _News_)--Adventure is again calling Grenville Ford, world famous adventurer and globe trotter. This time it is the sunken millions in the stone box of the tramp steamer, Southern Queen, which went down in the Caribbean in the fall of 1923. The exact location of the sinking of the Southern Queen has never been known but Ford is believed to have learned the whereabouts of the wreckage and to be making plans for the salvage of the sunken treasure."

"But just how does that link up with his visit to Atkinson under an assumed name and the arrival tonight of Jack Sladek with a couple of bodyguards?" asked Tim.

"Wait until I'm through. Then you'll feel the same way I do," insisted the managing editor. He continued reading from the story in the files:

"When the revolution headed by Manuel Crespes in Guato failed, Crespes and his fellow adventurers looted the rich mines there and fled aboard the _Southern Queen_. Estimates at the amount of gold taken by the fleeing rebels have varied from $500,000 to more than $5,000,000 but it is safe to say that sufficient gold was taken to make an attempt at its recovery highly worthwhile.

"The _Southern Queen_ left Martee, the main port of Guato, apparently in good condition but the vessel never reached port. Exactly what happened has never been known. Her disappearance has been one of the mysteries of the seven seas. Various theories have been advanced. One of the most persistent was that the leaders of the futile revolution in Guato killed all members of the crew when they neared a safe coast, scuttled the ship, took the treasure and escaped in small boats. Another is that a storm which raged in the Caribbean shortly after the _Southern Queen_ left Martee caught the little tramp steamer in its center and sent it whirling to the bottom with the loss of everyone on board. Several expeditions have been formed to hunt for the treasure but none of them have been successful and so far no actual trace of the _Southern Queen_ has been found.

"_News_ that Ford is planning to search for the treasure brings the story into the forefront again for he is known as a soldier of fortune of the higher type. While Ford refuses to divulge his plans in any detail, friends believe that he has learned the whereabouts of one of the survivors of the _Southern Queen_"

The story went on to recount other adventures in which Ford had played a prominent part but added nothing more in the way of information about the hunt for the treasure of the Southern Queen.

"I'm still trying to guess what brought him out here," said Tim.

"It's as plain as though written on the wall," replied the managing editor. "This story was printed more than a year ago, yet Ford hasn't started his expedition. Money hasn't held him up for he has plenty to finance any such trip. What did? Something must have happened to his source of information. Either it vanished or he has had to do far more work in ferreting out the facts than he expected. In either case I'm betting that Ford came here under an assumed name and went into the Cedar river valley for the one and only purpose of learning something which is vital to the success of his treasure hunt."

"If he is seeking information in connection with the treasure of the _Southern Queen_ that would explain his use of an assumed name and his evasion of reporters," agreed Tim. "It would also account for the presence of Sladek, who tries to vote himself into anything that looks like easy money."

"In other words both Ford and Sladek are after the sunken treasure in the _Southern Queen_ and there's some information over in the valley of the Cedar that both are after," said Carson.

"All of which may mean a good story for the _News_" smiled Tim.

"When can you start for the valley?"

"Right away."

"Can you go by plane?"

"Not tonight. I'll drive down. Ralph can bring the plane in tomorrow and land near Auburn. I'm not sure a plane will be much use except for a fast trip home with the story. I'll probably have to take a boat if I want to get around much in that country."

"Got any cash?"

"Less than $10."

Carson dug into his own pocket. "Here's $20. I'll have Ralph bring you expense money when he flies over."

In their eager discussion of the possibilities of the story they had almost forgotten the telephone calls to Ralph and Dan Watkins and Tim was about to depart for the Cedar river valley when they burst into the office.

"What's the matter?" asked Watkins. "Something big break?"

"Not yet, but soon," grinned Tim. "We think we've learned the identity of 'Mr. Seven.' Both you and Ralph have seen him. Take a good look at that picture over there and tell us what you think."

The newcomers scanned the printed likeness of Grenville Ford with critical eyes.

"That's 'Mr. Seven' without a doubt," said the chief copyreader and Ralph added his agreement.

"Then you'd better start for the valley at once," said Carson.

"You might tell us a little about it," suggested the veteran head of the copy desk.

"You'll hear full details when the story breaks," cried Tim as he headed for the stairs.

He took the best of the cars which the _News_ owned for the trip, a powerful coupe capable of high speed and standing lots of abuse on the rough roads of the Cedar valley.

He swung in front of the _News_ building, just as the others came down from the editorial office.

"I'll take you home," he called.

"I've got my car," replied the managing editor.

"The short walk will do me good," added Watkins, but Ralph decided to ride.

"Carson told us the whole story and says I'm to fly over in the morning and land near Auburn," he said. "Will you be there?"

"That's hard to say, but if I'm not you wait for me even if you have to stay there a couple of days."

"Sounds like a vacation trip."

"It may be anything but that." Then, thinking of the big amphibian and Jack Sladek and his bodyguards, he added: "The amphibian Sladek came in is in the hangar next to the one we use. If I leave you at the field, do you suppose you could fix it so they'd be delayed several hours getting their motor started in the morning?"

"It's as good as done," said Ralph. "With this flight on tomorrow I'll have an excuse to visit the field."

Tim left Ralph at the airport and sped on alone toward the valley of the mighty Cedar.