The Stone Idol (12 page)

The wizard led the boys out the back door to a corral where three horses were grazing. A number of saddles hung on the fence.

“Can you boys ride?” he asked.

“Sure. We ride a lot at home in Bayport,” Joe replied.

“Well, then, saddle up and we will go.”

When the mounts were ready, the old man set out at a quick canter, followed by Frank and Joe. The ride took them about two miles to the coast and then south along a steep cliff where they passed an extinct volcano with stone ruins near the summit.

“That is Mount Rano Kao,” said Iko Hiva. “The ruins are those of Orongo, the place where our bird men used to celebrate their rites. Some of them still haunt Orongo,” he added darkly.

The wizard pulled his horse to a stop on the edge of a steep cliff and pointed across the water to an island. “That is Motunui where the terns nest. The bird men used to race down from Orongo, across to Motunui, and greet the terns flying in. That was the source of their magical power. It still is.”

The wizard dismounted a short while later and tied the reins of his horse to a stake driven into the ground. Frank and Joe did the same.

Then Iko Hiva led the way to a point where a rope ladder dangled down the cliff for about fifty feet. Frank judged it was a thousand feet from the end of the rope ladder to the pounding surf below. The ladder swung in the breeze, its rungs clattering against the cliff.

“Climb down until you see an opening in the wall,” Iko Hiva instructed the boys. “That is the entrance of the sacred cave. Follow the tunnel in and you will find the altar. There is not sufficient room for three, so I will stay here.”

Frank edged himself over the brink first. Getting a grip on the top rung with his hands, he found a lower rung with his feet and began the descent. Joe came after him. Rung by rung, they worked their way down the swaying ladder along the side of the cliff while the sound of the foaming surf echoed in their ears.

The mouth of the cave was directly to their left. Frank went in first with Joe right behind him. When they reached the tunnel, they had to get down on their hands and knees, and finally wriggled forward on their stomachs. Soon they were in total darkness.

“What's the point of this?” Joe muttered. “We wouldn't be able to see the altar if we fell over it.”

“Maybe the old man laid a trap for us,” Frank said uneasily. “Wait—there's a light up ahead.”

The way began to broaden until the boys were able to move on their hands and knees again. The light became stronger as they rounded a corner and saw a strange sight.

The passage ended in a circular opening too narrow for them to slip through. It was guarded by a circle of stone knives fastened into the rock. Beyond the knives there was a block of volcanic rock on which stood seven sputtering candles, three on each side and one in the center.

A shelf cut into the earth next to the Hardys held unused candles, wooden tongs for reaching them past the knives onto the altar, and long tapers for lighting the candles when they were in place.

Frank tried the edge of one of the knives with his thumb.

“Sharp as a razor,” he declared. “Anyone reaching in there would sure give himself a shave.”

“Well,
somebody
got the stone idol off the altar,” Joe said, “and not with those tongs, either. They're not strong enough to hold it.”

Agreeing there was nothing more they could learn in the sacred cave, the Hardys slowly backed down the tunnel until they reached the rope ladder. Mounting it, they rejoined Iko Hiva at the top of the cliff.

“I replace the candles when they burn down too far,” he told them. “The idol used to stand in the middle of the altar. I am desperate to get it back. Can you help me?”

“We'll try,” Frank promised.

The wizard nodded. “I want you to see Rano Raraku. You will learn more about the traditions of Easter Island. It is ten miles away in the northeast.”

The three climbed back in the saddle and rode around the base of Rano Kao before turning their horses onto a long trail up the coast. They passed natives and Chilean offlcials traveling on horseback, in jeeps, or on foot. Statues were lying on the ground beside stone platforms. Iko Hiva pointed out more caves where the ancient population used to hide from their enemies.

The Hardys recognized Rano Raraku when they spotted it from down the trail because many famous stone figures stood in the earth on the flanks of the extinct volcano.

The three reined in their horses and looked at the mysterious figures with their oval eyes, broad noses, pursed lips, and long ears.

“They are the sentinels of Rano Raraku,” said Iko Hiva solemnly. “They have been here since the beginning of time. They are telling us that the ancient traditions of Easter Island must not be violated. I am in mystic communication with them,” he added.

Maneuvering their horses between the uncanny stone giants, the three rode up the slope to the summit and peered over the edge into the crater that once hurled forth dense clouds of suffocating smoke and rivers of molten lava.

When the volcano had stopped erupting, the lava had cooled and become hard, black rock. The boys could see how the Easter Islanders cut the rock into blocks from which they carved their weird statues. Some half-finished sculptures still lay in the crater, reminders that work had ceased when the Polynesians conquered the island.

“How did those statues get all over the island?” Frank asked, remembering Thor Heyerdahl's account that they had been moved to different points.

“They got where they are by themselves,” the wizard replied.

“But they have no legs!”

“They flew through the air. Some stayed near Rano Raraku. Others continued to the platforms built for them along the coast.”

“Why were they thrown off the platforms?” Joe asked.

Iko Hiva scowled. “A witch did it. Her magic was too powerful for the statues. They fell and were unable to get up again. Fortunately, the sentinels of Rano Raraku were strong enough to repel the witch's spell. That is why they are still standing.”

The Hardys surveyed the area, noting that there was a lake at the bottom of the crater. Several boys were either swimming in the water or paddling reed boats over the surface.

“All of the old fire mountains have crater lakes,” Iko Hiva explained. “We get our water from them because there are no streams on Easter Island. Do you wish to see more?”

Frank shook his head, recalling that he and Joe should be getting back to the hotel to see if there was any word on the
Inca Chief.

“I will help you as much as I can,” Iko Hiva promised. “If you need a wizard's power, call on me!”

He turned his horse down the slopes of Rano Raraku and led the ride back to Hanga Roa. This time they passed flocks of sheep and saw shepherds guarding them.

At Iko Hiva's hut, the Hardys unsaddled their horses, thanked the old man, and walked to the Hanga Roa Hotel. Since there was no message at the desk, Frank phoned the airport.

“We still have not heard from the
Inca Chief,”
he was told. “The pilot must have interrupted his flight. But not long ago a blip appeared on our radar, then vanished from the screen. If it was the
Inca Chief,
I fear it has crashed into the ocean!”

“We are in the process of starting an air and sea search,” the voice continued.

“Please keep us posted,” Frank said, and with a troubled frown, hung up.

“If the
Inca Chief
went down,” he said to Joe, “we'll never see Santana again.”

“Or the stone idol, Frank. Anyway, we can't leave Easter Island until we know for sure.”

The phone rang. “Maybe that's the control tower now!” Joe exclaimed as he lifted the instrument to his ear.

A muffled voice said, “Hardys, if you want to know about the stone idol, be at Orongo before dawn!”

Then there was a click and Joe put down the receiver.

“That was a quick one,” Frank commented. “You didn't say a word.”

“I didn't have a chance.” Joe repeated what he had heard.

“Did you recognize the voice?” Frank asked.

Joe shook his head. “It sounded as if he was holding a handkerchief over the mouthpiece. He could be anybody who knows we're looking for the stone idol.”

“Maybe he's an Easter Islander who can tell us about it but doesn't want anyone else to know,” Frank conjectured. “Iko Hiva could have spread the word around that we're interested in the idol. Or a servant in the governor's residence might have overheard us mention the idol last night.”

“It could also be someone who wants to get rid of us!” Joe pointed out.

“I know. But I still think we should go to Orongo. ”

The boys spent the afternoon strolling around Hanga Roa, then had dinner at the hotel. A message that the search for the
Inca Chief
had been fruitless was awaiting them.

“Perhaps they'll go out again tomorrow,” Joe said.

Frank nodded morosely, then suggested that they go to the governor and tell him of their plans to meet their unknown contact at Orongo.

“It could be a trap,” the governor agreed. “I will send a policeman after you if you have not returned by early morning.”

“That would be great,” Frank said. “Thanks.”

“Call me as soon as you get back from your mysterious rendezvous,” the governor added, and the boys left.

They set their alarm for three o‘clock, then went to sleep. Later, in the darkness, they walked to Rano Kao and climbed up to Orongo. By now a full moon flooded light over the ruins, casting weird shadows on the ground. A dark patch showed the entrance to a cave used by the bird men in olden times.

“The Easter Islanders sure were big on this kind of thing,” Frank commented.

“Real cave men,” Joe quipped.

They came to a jumble of massive rocks decorated with weird figures. Many were of men with the heads of birds, their bodies twisted out of shape, their heads uplifted to reveal their long curving beaks. There were cryptic hieroglyphic marks on some of the rocks.

“Our friend on the phone sure chose a spooky place to meet,” Joe grumbled.

“Maybe he wants to be sure we're alone. Thor Heyerdahl found that most Easter Islanders would not come up here at night. They're afraid the spirits of Orongo would get them.”

Joe looked at the sky. “I hope we don't have to wait too long. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Not scared of the bird men, are you?” Frank joked.

“No, but there are lots of places I'd rather be.”

The boys found a protected spot and sat down with their backs against an outcropping of rock. They discussed the strange phone call.

“I just can't make any sense of it,” Frank said. “But we've got to wait here until—” He broke off suddenly as the moonlight threw a sinister shadow on the ground in front of them.

Jumping to their feet, they whirled around and saw a man with the head of a bird perched on the rock overhead!

Holding a black volcanic rock in each hand, the uncanny apparition leaped on the Hardys, struck each on the head, and knocked them to the ground! Then their attacker ran off into the darkness.

Frank and Joe lay stunned where they had fallen, but gradually recovered. Sitting up, they rubbed their heads, wincing as their fingers touched the bumps where the stones had struck.

“We were ambushed!” Joe groaned. “It must have been the guy on the phone!”

“He's trying to scare us away from Easter Island, I bet,” Frank added. “No doubt he's afraid we'll find the truth about the stone idol!”

“That means we're getting warm. But I still don't see how.”

“Neither do I. By the way, what happened to our bird man? He sure flew away in a hurry.”

“Maybe not,” Joe said in an undertone. He pointed to the mouth of the Orongo cave. “He could be hiding in there. Let's go see!”

Grabbing a rock to use as a weapon, he slipped into the cave and began to work his way on hands and knees through a narrow tunnel, using his flashlight to see ahead of him. Frank followed close behind.

“This place gives me claustrophobia!” Joe muttered. “Anyway, the bird man can't ambush us in here. There's no place for him to hide.”

The tunnel was short and they came to the end in a couple of minutes.

“No one here,” Joe called over his shoulder. “Reverse gears.”

Frank backed up as rapidly as he could. Joe was slower. Suddenly a shower of rocks fell between the boys! Frank was safe near the mouth of the cave, but his brother was trapped underground!

Frantically Frank threw himself on the barrier. As fast as he could, he dug into it, throwing rocks over his shoulder. When he removed a big boulder near the top of the pile, he created an aperture through to the other side.

“Joe! Can you hear me?” Frank shouted.

“Loud and clear!”

“Hold on, I'll get you out.” The young detective removed the rest of the debris, taking care not to start another rock slide. Finally Joe was able to wriggle through and they both emerged from the cave.

“Do you think the bird man did that?” Joe said after he breathed in a lungful of fresh air.

“I doubt it,” Frank said. “I was already near the entrance and didn't hear or see anyone. I think the rocks just caved in. Maybe no one has used the cave in a long time, and the movement we made inside caused some of the ceiling to shift.”

“Well, that's the last cave I'll ever go into!” Joe vowed. “The chances we take to find Santana!”