The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior Read Free

have had a bad whack on the head,” Mr. Hardy remarked.
    Frank and Joe talked about the case until luncheon was ready. The meal included one of Aunt Gertrude’s famous strawberry shortcakes topped with a sea of whipped cream. Presently the conversation turned again to the mystery.
    â€œI think we should bone up on Mexican history,” said Frank, “especially the period when the Aztecs were in power.”
    They excused themselves from the table and went to their father’s library. Each boy selected a volume on Mexico’s fascinating history.
    â€œWhew! Human sacrifice!” Joe suddenly exclaimed. “They chose a young man, and for one year gave him the best food and clothes and entertainment possible, then killed him as a sacrifice to the war god!”
    â€œYes, and everything was done in the name of religion, with the priests as the killers!” Frank remarked.
    The boys studied pictures of the elaborate costumes worn by Aztec warriors.
    â€œPretty fancy!” Joe remarked.
    He pointed to a colorful illustration of a warrior in headdress and shirt of yellow parrot feathers and sprays of costly quetzal feathers, all decorated with gold. Another picture showed a whole squadron wearing uniforms made of jaguar skins and carrying shields adorned with golden disks, butterflies, and serpents; on their feet were embroidered sandals with thongs of orange leather.
    The Hardys looked up as they heard a car roar up in front of the house and stop.
    He grinned. “I’ll bet that’s Chet!”
    Joe peered from the window. “You’re right.”
    Coming up the walk was a stout, good-natured-looking boy, a schoolmate of the Hardys. Chet Morton was a particular friend and often but unwittingly found himself involved in the mysteries the brothers were solving.
    â€œHi, fellows!” he said, as Joe opened the door and he walked in. “Why so glum?” he asked. “Something happen?”
    â€œOh, nothing much, except that we rescued an unconscious man, and we’re searching for an Aztec warrior,” Frank said nonchalantly.
    Chet’s eyes bulged. “You what!”
    Quickly Frank and Joe told their friend the story of the Moore mystery. “Sounds crazy,” Chet remarked. “But the part about Mexico interests me. I’ve read some of that history myself. Say, do you know what those old Aztecs used to eat?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThey cooked with flowers,” was Chet’s surprising answer. “The acacia flower was supposed to cure melancholia. They sprinkled the flowers into an egg batter, fried it, and covered it with sugar and cinnamon.” Chet smacked his lips. “I’ve always meant to try it.”
    â€œYou suffering from melancholia?” Frank teased.
    â€œDid they use any other kinds of flowers?” Joe asked.
    â€œSure. They made pie fillings with roses—boiled them up with sugar and lemon, and they made a drink out of the red blossoms from the Jamaica tree. You’ve heard of eating squash blossoms, haven’t you? The Aztecs munched them during ceremonies to their rain-god.”
    Joe grinned. “I’m sure Aunt Gertrude would love to make some geranium soup!”
    Chet laughed. “I just stopped by to ask you fellows if you’d be interested in going to a movie. But now I suppose you’ll have to stick around to solve this mystery.”
    â€œI’m afraid we will,” Frank said. “But we’ll be in touch!”
    â€œWell, lots of luck to you,” said Chet as he left the house. Frank and Joe watched him roar off down the street in his open jalopy. Then suddenly both brothers wanted to be on the move themselves.
    â€œHow about driving out to the Moore house tonight?” Joe proposed. “No restrictions on looking over the grounds.”
    â€œSure thing.”
    After supper the boys took flashlights and set off in their car, with Frank at the wheel. When they