fanned out. Far beyond them, the boys could make out Rocky Beach itself and the ocean, dark in the grey day. To the east, on the other side of the high ridge, Santa Inez Creek curved to the south-east. A trickle of water showed in it now. Across the creek bed, the fiat brush-land spread out, and they could see the Norris ranch houses and corrals a mile or so away. The road through the Norris ranch came up from the south to the dam and then disappeared north into the mountains.
“I wonder why they called this spot Condor Castle,” Pete said. “I don’t see any condors.”
“Just as well,” said Bob with a chuckle. “A condor is a kind of vulture!”
“Maybe,” guessed Diego, “the name comes from the bird’s-eye view up here.”
“Probably,” said Bob. “But let’s not worry about the name. We’re here to look for the Cortés Sword! Where do you think Don Sebastián hid it?”
“There must be a hiding place up here,” answered Pete. “A hollow somewhere, a crack in the rock, maybe even a cave. Let’s search, fellows!”
They spread out over the whole top of the rock, but quickly saw there wasn’t a hollow or crevice in it. The top was almost as smooth as marble. They stamped on every inch of it, and felt along the sheer sides as far down as they could reach. The rock was completely solid.
“Nobody hid anything in this rock!” said Pete. “Let’s try below it, on the sides of the ridge.”
Bob nodded. “Okay, Pete, why don’t you take the creek side, and Diego and I will go down the arroyo side.”
The boys scrambled off the peak and began to search again. Above the now trickling creek, Pete worked his way down the slope, making wider and wider sweeps. He found some loose boulders, but no cracks or hollows, no safe place to hide a sword.
Finally Pete gave up and walked around the north end of the ridge to find the others. Bob and Diego were almost finished searching on their side.
“There just isn’t any hole or crack to hide anything in, Second,” Bob complained.
Diego added, “Maybe Don Sebastián buried the sword.”
“Don’t say that!” Pete groaned. “We’d have to dig up the whole ridge. It’d take us forever!”
“I don’t think Don Sebastián buried it, Diego,” Bob said slowly. “If Jupiter’s theory is right — if Don Sebastián escaped successfully and went to hide the sword — he didn’t have a lot of time to work in. Put yourself in his place. He knew he was in danger and might not come back to dig up the sword himself, he knew that José might not return for years, and he knew that Sergeant Brewster and his pals were probably close behind him. If he buried the sword, he’d have to mark the spot clearly for José, or else the sword might never be found. But if he did mark the spot, Sergeant Brewster could see the sign, too, and guess what it meant.”
Bob shook his head. “No, I’m sure Don Sebastián wouldn’t have buried the sword. He would have hidden it somewhere near Condor Castle — someplace that José would be sure to think of. A place he wouldn’t have to take time to get ready, and wouldn’t have to mark.”
“But,” Pete said, looking all around, “where?”
“Well, we’re pretty sure the sword isn’t on this high ridge by Condor Castle,” said Bob. “So think of the rock as only a landmark, a clue to the general area. There must have been someplace nearby that Don Sebastián and José often went to, Diego, is there anywhere — ”
“The dam, maybe?” Diego suggested. “It was here then.”
“The dam?” Bob said. “Why not?”
Diego led them along the side of the ridge and across the low mound at its end. The mound ran up to the left corner of the dam. Water was spilling over the dam’s centre gate in a narrow stream, falling thirty feet to the creek bed below. The boys scrambled down the mound and dropped into the creek bed, heedless of wet feet. They examined the whole face of the dam as high as they could reach. It was built of hundreds — maybe thousands — of small boulders, fitted together and caulked with some kind of limestone mortar. There were no loose rocks, holes, or crevices.
“Solid as steel,” Pete said.
“My family had it built by local Indians almost two hundred years ago,” said Diego.
“Well, they sure didn’t leave any cracks to hide a sword in,” Bob said, “at least down here at the bottom. If there are cracks further up, you’d need a ladder to reach them, and Don Sebastián probably didn’t have a ladder. But let’s try the top.”
They scrambled back up the mound, sinking in where the ground was soft from the recent rain, and climbed up to the top of the dam. It was six feet thick at the top, made of the same fitted rocks. But here there were holes and crevices, and the boys split up to search. Half an hour later, they all gave up.
“If the sword is in the dam,” Pete said grimly, “we’ll have to tear the dam down to find it.”
“Don Sebastián didn’t have time to make a fancy hiding place,” Bob reminded him. “I think we can say the sword isn’t in the dam, which means we’re at a dead end. We’ll have to find a brand-new clue.”
“Where, Bob?” asked Pete. “We’ve been all through those army documents, and Don Sebastián wrote only that one letter around then.”
“He was an important man, and he must have had many friends in the area,” Bob said. “Perhaps he got help from someone, or perhaps people saw him that day. We need to find something that can tell us more about what he did, maybe even something he said.”
“Gee,” Diego said doubtfully, “it’s been so long.”
“Yes, but back in those days, without the telephone, people wrote more letters and put more news in them,” Bob pointed out. “And lots of people kept diaries and journals. Maybe there was even a newspaper here then. I bet we can find some good stuff at — ”
“I know,” Pete moaned. “Back at the Historical Society! Gosh, detective work sure can get boring!”
Bob laughed. “Well, most of the old papers are likely to be in Spanish, so you’ll be spared reading them, Pete! But we might as well wait till tomorrow, when Jupiter can help. Besides, I haven’t done any homework yet this weekend.”
Pete moaned again. He’d forgotten all about his homework.
The boys started across the top of the dam towards the road and their bikes. Just as they walked off the dam, Pete stopped and stood alertly.
“Diego?” the tall boy said, staring off to the right, “does someone on your ranch own four big, black dogs?”
“Dogs?” Diego said. “No, I — ”
“I see them, Second,” Bob said, his voice uneasy.
The four big black dogs were some distance away, above the reservoir and beyond the burned area on the Alvaro side of the creek. They were pacing wildly in front of some trees and thick brush, their red tongues lolling out and their eyes glittering.
“Wow,” Bob said nervously, “they sure look mean, and — ”
A shrill whistle seemed to sound from nowhere. Pete whirled, and pointed back across the dam.
“That’s a signal! Run for those trees across the dam!”
In the distance, the four dogs raced towards the dam with their teeth bared and red tongues dripping! The boys tumbled back over the dam, and pounded across the rocky ground towards a line of old oaks some fifty yards away.
“It’s… too… far!” Bob panted.
“We… we’ll… never… make it!” Diego gasped.
“Faster, guys!” Pete urged.
“Pete!” Diego cried as he looked back. “They’re swimming!”
In their violent pursuit of their quarry, the four dogs had plunged straight into the small reservoir instead of circling it by the faster route across the dam! They were swimming strongly, and were soon out and leaping after the fleeing boys. But the delay had been just enough!
The three boys reached the twisted live-oaks, clambered wildly up, and sat on the heavy branches looking down at the four leaping, snarling dogs.
They were trapped!
