The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior by Franklin W. Dixon

automobile. To his relief, as soon as he turned on the ignition, the motor roared to life.
    As they started off, all three boys wondered what the mysterious assailants had hoped to accomplish. Were they part of the gang looking for the valuable Aztec warrior and still harassing the threesome to keep them from proceeding with their detective work?
    â€œWhoever they were,” said Chet, “you Hardys were too smart for them. I’m sorry I fouled you up and you couldn’t find out about that light on top of the pyramid. Do you suppose those gangsters hide out up there?”
    â€œI doubt it,” said Frank. “It would be too noticeable. Maybe some of our questions can be answered if we come back tomorrow and search Monte Alban in the daylight.”
    Chet said nothing. His head ached, and he felt a little dizzy. “Bed sure will feel good,” he said. He did not mention that he hoped Frank and Joe would make the trip by themselves the following day.
    Actually the Hardys had the same idea. But they decided to wait until morning before saying anything to Chet.
    When they reached their hotel room, the dazed boy dropped onto his bed. “I think I’ll sleep with my clothes on,” he said. “Too much trouble to take ’em off.” His voice faded.
    â€œWe’ll do it,” the Hardys offered.
    First, they removed his jacket and hung it up. Next came his shoes and socks, then his trousers.
    As Frank unbuttoned Chet’s sport shirt, a wadded piece of paper fell to the floor.
    Frank picked it up. “What’s this?” he asked.
    Chet, who had closed his eyes, responded sleepily, “What’s what?”
    â€œThis piece of paper you wadded up and put inside your shirt.”
    â€œI didn’t put anything in my shirt,” Chet insisted.
    Eagerly Joe grabbed the paper and smoothed it out. Printed boldly in Spanish was a warning. Joe blinked, but refrained from reading it aloud, not wishing to disturb Chet any further.
    Frank sensed that his brother had found something important but waited. The stout boy had become drowsy again and said nothing more about the paper. The Hardys finished undressing him and put on his pajamas. Within another thirty seconds, Chet was fast asleep.
    Frank counted his friend’s pulse beat. “He’s okay, Joe.”
    Quickly moving to the bureau where Joe had laid the paper, Frank gasped in astonishment. The message read:
    Yankees go home. You cannot steal any of our treasures. If you disobey, you will lose your lives!

CHAPTER XII
    â€œFive Rabbit”
    IN whispers, so they would not awaken Chet, Frank and Joe discussed the strange warning.
    â€œI think we should take it to the local police,” said Frank.
    At the hotel desk Joe asked the manager if it would be safe for them to be on the streets alone at this hour of night. Mr. Perez looked at them in surprise and said that Oaxaca was a very fine town with excellent police protection.
    â€œNo offense intended,” said Joe, “My brother and I were attacked recently in Mexico City.”
    â€œOh, I understand now.” Mr. Perez smiled. “You wish to go to a restaurant?”
    â€œWe may drop in for a midnight snack,” said Joe, not wishing to give his real reason for going out. “If we get into any trouble, we’ll make a beeline to police headquarters.” He grinned. “Where is it, by the way?”
    Mr. Perez gave them directions and the boys set off. At headquarters they told the officer on duty, Captain Valero, what had happened to Chet and themselves at the Monte Alban ruins.
    The officer frowned. “I am sorry you were subjected to this indignity. Did you bring the paper with you?”
    Frank handed it to Captain Valero, who read it several times. Finally he spoke up. “There’s a band of young reactionaries in this area, I am sorry to say, and this may be more of their work. Their motives are perhaps laudable, but they