SPACEMEN’S FATE 181
“It’s going to take some muscle to break this door open,” Bud warned.
“Let’s give it the old heave-ho!” Tom said. On signal, they crashed their shoulders against the ancient wooden door. It creaked, but did not move. Again they tried, without success.
The third crash brought a splintering sound. On their fourth attempt, the door finally burst open amid a shower of loose dirt and stones.
“Oh man, does that night air feel good!” Bud gulped.
“Guess we’ll have to make it back to the village in the dark,” Tom said. “At least we have a little moonlight to help us.”
By following the truck and jeep tracks of the diggers, they finally reached the village. Here they poured out their story to Police Chief Rodriguez and the others.
A hasty search was made for Hutchcraft, but a native reported that he had seen the linguist bundle up his gear and slip off into the jungle.
“Do not worry, senores,” the police chief said. “I assure you he and his accomplice will not get far. My men and I will now take over!”
With Quetzal’s help, Rodriguez hastily organized three search parties of native trackers. He, Pedro, and Miguel would each head a group.
Before the search parties could take off, however, there was an outburst of excitement from the chattering Mayas. Hutchcraft was walking 182 ELECTRONIC RETROSCOPE
forward, his head down. Behind him strode the jungle giant.
“It’s Magnificent Max!” Bud cried.
Grinning broadly, the ex-wrestler came up into the firelight. In one huge hand he was holding a thin man like a kitten, by the scruff of his neck. In his other hand, Max was clutching a loaded knapsack and a sheaf of drawings.