Free The Jungle Pyramid by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

agreed.
    â€œLook at the trunk!” Joe declared.
    It had been chopped nearly all the way through!
    â€œSomeone was setting a trap for us!” Tony exclaimed.
    Frank nodded. “He dug the hole to make us stop, cut the tree with an ax till it was barely standing, and then pushed it over to make it topple on us.”
    Biff clenched his fists. “That means he must still be around here somewhere. I’ll take him over the hurdles!”
    He ran back up the trail. Frank and Joe took the underbrush on one side, Chet and Tony the other. The boys scouted through the area but found nothing except scuffed footprints near the base of the fallen tree.
    â€œHe got away!” Biff lamented.
    â€œWe may as well call off our search,” Joe said. “It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, only this haystack is the Yucatán jungle.”
    An hour later the group bounced into Palango. A Mayan temple had been partially reclaimed, and nearby a deep excavation revealed further work in progress. Several tents had been set up in a cleared area. Four Americans were there along with a dozen Mexicans, descendants of the Mayas, who had been recruited to help with the dig.
    The leader of the archaeological expedition came forward to meet them. He was tall and handsome with black wavy hair. “I’m Steve Weiss,” he introduced himself. “It’s a surprise to see you. Usually visitors don’t get this far in the jungle.”
    Frank explained that he and his companions were trying to find gold.
    â€œWe have already found quite a bit!” said a voice behind them.
    The boys turned to see a man wearing white shorts and a pith helmet. He had a superior smile on his face, as if to say that he was doing the visitors a favor by speaking to them. He carried a swagger stick, which he slapped against his leather boot.
    â€œI’m Melville Courtney, assistant archaeologist on the dig,” he announced. “I’m also a Hawkins man.”
    â€œHe means Hawkins College,” Joe thought.
    â€œWe have already found gold, son,” Courtney repeated, “and are scarcely in need of your assistance on that score. The Mayas buried the gold. We retrieved it after much exertion and loss of perspiration.
    â€œI’m sure you realize,” Courtney continued, “that your help would be superfluous.”
    â€œA job is not what we have in mind,” Frank told him.
    â€œDo you have armadillos in mind?” asked a woman who had just walked up. She was short, had golden hair, and a heart-shaped face. She wore a denim shirt and slacks.
    â€œRose Renda, our biologist,” Steve Weiss introduced her. “She just joined us a few days ago.”
    â€œI’m an armadillo freak,” Rose declared.
    Chet scratched his head and gave her a blank look. “Armadillo freak?”
    â€œAs you no doubt know,” Rose explained, “an armadillo is an armored animal native to these parts. It’s about five feet long from snout to tail in the biggest species. The armor on its back is approximately three feet long. The problem I’m researching is this: how is the armadillo related to the glyptodon?”
    Now Tony looked blank. “What’s a glyptodon?”
    Rose smiled. “You mean, what was a glyptodon? It lived millions of years before the armadillo, was about nine feet long, and had five feet of armor. The armor was completely smooth, and had a number of hinges that permitted it to turn more easily.”
    â€œAnd you want to find out how the glyptodon evolved into the armadillo?” Tony asked.
    â€œYes,” Rose replied.
    A man carrying a rifle joined the party. He was over six feet tall, slim, and quiet.
    â€œThis is Frank Pendleton,” Rose said, “our jungle guide. He knows everything about this area.”
    â€œI should after twenty years,” Pendleton said, smiling.
    â€œI take it you hunt, too?” Tony said with a