It was past noon when The Three Investigators careered down the last steep grade of a narrow back road. Rolling mountains encircled the valley, which was a scant thirty minutes from Rocky Beach. Jupiter’s Uncle Titus had sent Konrad on a pickup job in nearby Chatwick and had allowed the boys to go along for their appointment in Jungle Land.

“Slow down, Konrad,” Jupe ordered. “That’s the place.”

“Hokay, Jupe.” The big Bavarian braked the small lorry to a jolting stop outside the main gate. The entrance sign read:

As the boys got out, they heard strange hooting and chattering cries. In the distance a loud trumpeting sound echoed in the hills. As if in answer to this challenge, there came a deep, rumbling roar that sent chills down their spines.

Konrad gestured to the gate. “You fellers going in there?” he asked. “You better watch it. I think I hear lions.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Konrad,” Bob said. “Mr. Hitchcock wouldn’t have sent us on this job if he thought it was really dangerous.”

“We just have to look into something for the owner,” Jupe said. “This is a safe tourist attraction.”

Konrad shrugged. “Hokay,” he said. “If you say it’s safe, hokay. But better take care all the same. I be back for you a little later.”

He waved and wheeled the lorry back to the main road. Soon the lorry was out of sight.

Jupe looked at his friends. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Pete pointed to a small sign posted at the gate:

“I wondered why there wasn’t anyone around,” he said.

“It might be because the movie company is inside shooting,” said Jupe.

Bob peered inside. “Shouldn’t Mr. Hall be here to meet us?”

Jupe nodded. “I expected him. But maybe he’s busy with other things inside.”

“Like his nervous lion,” Pete said. “Maybe he’s having a hard time convincing him we’re not here for his dinner.”

Jupe pressed on the gate. It opened to his touch.

“It’s not locked,” he said cheerfully. “That’s either so the movie people can get in and out — or for us. Let’s go.”

The gate creaked shut behind them as they stepped inside. From beyond the trees, they heard chattering sounds punctuated by harsh screeches.

“Monkeys and birds,” Jupe observed. “Harmless creatures.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Bob said in a low voice.

The entrance road was narrow and twisting, bordered on either side by trees and thick foliage. Large curling vines looped down from trees.

“Looks like a jungle, all right,” Pete observed.

The others nodded. As they advanced slowly, they cast suspicious glances at the dense undergrowth on either side, wondering what strange creature might be crouching there waiting to spring. The odd sounds beyond continued, and again they heard the dull, reverberating roar.

They stopped at a signpost at a fork in the road.

“ ‘Western Village and Ghost Town,’ ” Bob read on the sign pointing left. “What does the other say?”

Jupe was looking up at it quizzically. “To the animals,” he said.

They turned right at the fork. After a few hundred yards, Pete pointed ahead. “There’s a house. Maybe Mr. Hall has his office there.”

“It looks like a bunkhouse,” Jupe said as they drew closer. “There’s a corral behind it.”

Suddenly there was a loud, ear-piercing scream. The boys froze, and then, as if with a single mind, dived into the shrubbery for cover.

Hidden behind the thick trunk of a barrel palm, Pete peered across the dirt road at the bunkhouse. Jupe and Bob, crouched behind a bush, also looked out anxiously. They waited for more sounds, their hearts beating fast. But now the thick jungle was silent.

“Jupe,” Pete whispered. “What was that?”

Jupe shook his head. “I’m not sure. Maybe a cheetah.”

“It could have been a monkey,” Bob whispered.

They stayed in the shrubbery, waiting.

“Good grief!” Pete said hoarsely. “We came here to find out about a nervous lion. Nobody said anything about nervous monkeys or cheetahs!”

“We’ve got to expect the animals here will be making some kind of sounds,” Jupe said. “It’s only natural. Whatever that was, it’s quiet now. Let’s get to the house and find out what’s happening.”

The others hesitated as Jupe started forward, moving slowly and warily. Then they joined him.

“Anyway, that sound came from way up ahead,” Pete muttered.

“Where the wild animals are locked up tight — I hope,” Bob added.

“Come on,” Jupe urged. “We’re almost there.”

The bunkhouse was old and needed paint. Pails and feedbins were scattered carelessly at the side. Tracks from many vehicles had carved deep ruts in the road. The corral fence sagged.

The old house stood silent, as if waiting for them.

“Now what?” Pete asked in a low voice.

Jupe stepped on to the low, slatted porch. There was a determined expression on his face. “We knock on the door,” he said flatly, “and tell Mr. Hall we’re here.”

He rapped vigorously. There was no response. “Mr. Hall!” Jupiter called loudly.

Bob scratched his head. “Guess he’s not home.”

Pete held up his hand warningly. “Hold it!” he whispered. “I hear something.”

They all heard it then. A low, muttering sound in an odd cadence. The sound came closer, approaching from the rear of the house. They could hear the crunching of footsteps on gravel. They drew back, eyes wide.

Suddenly it came at them, darting forward in an erratic line, head bobbing angrily. Yellow legs dug fiercely into the ground.

The Three Investigators stared.

Jupiter Jones was the first to recover his voice. “Careful now!” he cautioned. “We don’t want to be scared off by a mad rooster!”

“Gosh!” Pete said sheepishly. “Is that all it is?”

Bob let out a relieved sigh. “I never would have believed it!”

He looked down at the clucking black fowl that had sounded so ominous only a moment before, and laughed.

“Shoo, bird!” he yelled, waving his arms.

Startled, the cock lifted its black wings. Making angry sounds, it scuttled across the road, its high, red comb bobbing.

The boys all laughed.

“There’s proof of how the mind can deceive you,” Jupe said. “We were intimidated by the jungle growth and the sounds of wild animals. We all expected something dangerous to be coming at us. We were conditioned for it.”

He started for the door again.

“Hey, look over there, Jupe,” Bob said.

The other boys followed Bob’s pointing finger. In the shadows of the thick jungle, they caught a sudden movement. A figure in khaki stepped from behind a tree.

“Mr. Hall!” Jupe yelled.

The man waited as the boys ran towards him.

“Hi,” Pete said. “We’ve been looking for you.”

The man looked at the boys questioningly. He was stocky and deep-chested, his faded safari shirt open at the throat. His light blue eyes contrasted vividly with the deep tan of his face. His nose was long and dented to one side. On his head was an old Aussie campaign hat, its wide brim folded over one ear.

As the boys came closer, he made an impatient movement with his hand. Something glinted.

Jupe and his friends stared down at the long, broad-bladed machete the man held carelessly at his side.

Jupiter spoke quickly. “We’re The Three Investigators, Mr. Hall. Didn’t Mr. Hitchcock tell you we were coming?”

The man blinked and looked surprised. “Oh, yes. Hitchcock. You say you’re the three investigators?”

“That’s right, Mr. Hall,” Jupe said. He reached into his pocket and produced a business card on which was printed: