“Very funny, Second,” Bob groaned. “Jokes won’t help us — ”
“Pete!” Jupiter cried. “I think you’ve got it!”
“Gosh, First, it wasn’t that bad a joke. You don’t have to — ”
“No,” Jupiter said, “I mean it! That could be the answer! Of course, I’ve been stupid!”
“What answer, First?” Pete said, confused.
“A really old map! If Don Sebastián had used a name everyone could find on a map in 1846, the Americans would have spotted it! He knew they would study the letter — so he used a name from a map so old and rare even in 1846 only he and José would recognize it! I never thought to ask the historian for really old maps — and they’d be too valuable just to leave out in the map room. Come on! Back to the Historical Society!”
They scrambled out through Tunnel Two, checking carefully at the end of the pipe to be sure that Cody, or anyone else, wasn’t watching. Jupiter led the race to their bikes.
As the boys rode out of the salvage yard, a voice boomed across the street:
“JUPITER!”
Aunt Mathilda was standing on the stoop of the Jones house looking angry.
“Where have you been, you scamp! Have you forgotten your great-uncle Matthew’s birthday party? We have to leave in fifteen minutes! Get over here and put on your good suit! You’ll have to see your friends another time.”
“Oh, no!” groaned Jupe. “I forgot! It’s my great-uncle’s eightieth birthday,” he explained to his friends. “There’s a family party for him clear on the other side of Los Angeles. I can’t get out of going, and I’m sure we won’t be back until very late. You’ll have to carry on without me.”
“Jupiter!” Aunt Mathilda’s voice held an ominous warning note.
Jupe sadly waved goodbye to the other boys and went across the street.
“Now what?” asked Pete.
“To the Historical Society, of course,” answered Bob, taking charge. And in a minute, the boys had forgotten all about Jupiter as their excitement over Condor Castle rose again.
When the assistant librarian heard the boys’ latest request, he thought a moment. “A really early map of this area?” he said. “Yes, we do have one in our rare documents collection. One of the very first, from 1790. It’s so delicate we rarely bring it out into the light and show it.”
“Please, sir,” Bob urged, “may we look at it?”
The historian hesitated, and then nodded. He led them to the back where he unlocked a door. They all went into a windowless room which had its temperature and humidity kept at a constant level. All the documents were in glass cases or on shelves behind glass doors. The historian checked his files, then unlocked a drawer and drew out a long, flat glass case. Inside the case was a crude old map drawn in brown lines on thick, yellowed paper.
“Just look at it through the glass, please,” the historian said.
The boys bent over the ancient map of the Rocky Beach area.
“There,” Diego pointed in awe. “In Spanish: Condor Castle!”
“It’s there!” Bob exulted.
“Right on the Alvaro rancho, if that squiggly line is supposed to be Santa Inez Creek,” Diego said.
“What are we waiting for?” Pete cried.
The boys thanked the astonished historian, and ran out to their bikes.
The rain had stopped, but dark clouds still swept low over the mountains as the two Investigators and Diego rode along the dirt road of the Alvaro ranch. They were headed towards the old dam where they had battled the brush fire. As the road curved in alongside the dry arroyo and the ridge before the dam, Diego stopped.
“If I read the map right, Condor Castle is the rock peak at the end of this last ridge,” the slim boy said. “Santa Inez Creek is just on the other side of it.”
They left their bikes hidden in the brush beside the road, and pushed through the heavy chaparral to the edge of the deep arroyo. The dam was out of sight to their left, beyond the low, brush-covered mound that closed off the arroyo.
The boys looked across the arroyo and up at the top of the high ridge. At the left end of it, just before the ridge dropped sharply off to the low mound, the tall rock peak jutted up.
“That must be it!” Diego said again. “Right where the map showed it.”
“What’s it called now?” Pete asked as they scrambled down into the muddy arroyo and started up the ridge on the far side.
“Nothing, as far as I know,” Diego said.
The high ridge sloped in two sections: the lower two-thirds was a gentle slope covered with big boulders and brush; and the upper one-third was steeper and almost all rock with no brush. The boys were puffing when they climbed the last third and stood on top of the giant rock that crowned the long ridge.
“Condor Castle,” Bob said, awestruck.
From the great rock the whole countryside was visible except to the north, where the mountains towered towards the sky. But before the mountains rose, the boys could see the dam and the creek beyond with the charred brush on both sides.
“The creek’s swollen above the dam,” Diego pointed out, “and the dam’s already spilling a little. We’ll have a real creek below if it keeps on raining.”
Bob pointed down to the low mound at the base of the ridge. “Look how that mound separates the arroyo from the creek and the dam,” he said. “If the mound weren’t there, you’d have a second creek.”
The boys turned around and studied the rest of the view. To the west, they could see the road and the deep arroyo that reached south to the ruins of the hacienda almost a mile away. Directly to the south, more ridges 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.