The Boy Scout Explorers at Treasure Mountain

“What do you suppose is delaying Mr. Livingston? He should have been here half an hour ago.”

Uneasily, Jack Hartwell glanced at his wristwatch and then toward the entranceway of the Savoy Hotel terrace dining room.

There was no sign of the Scout leader. George (Happy) Livingston, advisor to Explorer Post 21, had invited the four Scouts to meet him promptly at 7:30 p.m. for dinner at the hotel. Now it was pushing eight o’clock, and he’d neither shown up nor sent word.

Three times a waiter had pointedly asked the Scouts if they cared to order. It was getting harder to stall.

“Maybe Mr. Livingston forgot he invited us.”

This remark came from Willie Medaugh, a tow-headed fifteen-year-old with broad, powerful shoulders. He was assistant crew leader, and wore the green Explorers’ uniform.

The others, Jack of the twinkling blue eyes, serious Ken Dougherty and Warwick Washburn, were fellow members of the Rover Crew, Post 21. “War,” a lean, freckled youngster with great enthusiasm and a peppery temper, was the newest recruit, a willing if untried member of the tough, efficient little band.

“Mr. Livingston never would have forgotten his appointment with us,” Ken Dougherty said in answer to Willie’s remark. “Not Hap!”

“No, you can bet something important held him up,” agreed Jack. “He’ll be along, or send word.”

Quiet-spoken, the crew leader had an easy, assured manner which inspired confidence. Next term he would be a senior at Belton High School. He was an outstanding athlete, hard of muscle and ever ready for adventure.

“Hey, Jack’s right!” Willie suddenly warbled. “Here comes Mr. Livingston now!”

A powerfully built man of thirty-eight strode across the dining room to the table by the garden railing. Before becoming a Scout leader, he had spent ten years in FBI work.

“Sorry to be late, fellows,” he apologized, seating himself beside Ken.

After ordering for the group, he explained that an important conference had delayed him. “You wonder why I invited you here tonight?” he remarked, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Is it about our trip to Minnesota?” Jack inquired.

“Yes, Jack. I’m afraid it’s off for this year.”

As the news sank in, every face mirrored disappointment. For months, the Explorers had planned a canoe trip to the Minnesota lakes. And now it was off!

“It’s like this,” Mr. Livingston explained. “I have a chance to head an expedition to Peru. It looks pretty good and I hate to pass it up.”

If a rocket had exploded in their midst, the four Rovers could not have been more astonished.

“Peru?” echoed Willie. “Way off in South America!”

“Right. In many sections, the country still is wild and unexplored. I hate to give up our canoeing trip, but this may be the chance of a lifetime.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jack replied politely. “Peru, gosh!”

“You’ll go by boat?” inquired Ken.

“No, by plane. Our expedition supplies will be sent ahead by freighter. A man named Captain Carter will look after that detail. He’s to meet me here later tonight to discuss the plans.”

“Who’ll go with you?” asked War. “When do you leave? And what’s the purpose of the trip?”

“One question at a time. First of all, I expect to take all the Rovers.”

War dropped his fork. The other Scouts were jolted into rapt attention.

“You’re inviting us all to go to Peru?” Jack demanded in disbelief.

“That’s right.”

“But the Rovers haven’t much folding money.”

“All expenses will be paid.”

“Say, that’s great!” Jack exclaimed. “But it’s fantastic! Who is the easy-mark willing to pay for this pleasure jaunt?”

“I didn’t say the expedition would be a pleasure trip,” Mr. Livingston warned. “The mission will be a tough one—harder than anything we ever attempted before. Mr. Monahan, our backer, is a level-headed business man. He’ll expect results.”

By this time, the waiter had brought chicken and steaks, but the four Rovers were too excited to do full justice to the appetizing food set before them. They fairly bombarded Mr. Livingston with questions.

“Here’s the meat of it,” he said. “For many years—twelve to be exact—Mr. Monahan’s brother, Burton, lived in Peru. Recently, through a meeting with a missionary in a little coastal village, he learned of an unexplored ancient Inca temple where great treasure had supposedly been hidden at the time Spaniards conquered the country.”

“Weren’t the Incas an Indian race?” Willie inquired.

“Correct. They excelled at road building, stone work and in the arts. When the Spaniards looted the country about 400 years ago, the Incas saved some of their vast treasure by dumping it into lakes or burying it in caves.”

“We’re going to Peru to search for lost treasure?” demanded War excitedly.

Mr. Livingston shook his head. “No, the lost treasure concerns us only as it may account for Burton Monahan’s strange disappearance.”

“Tell us more,” urged Jack.