ASthe automobile sped toward the thoroughfare, Bob and Joe settled back for the long ride. Now that they were at last heading for Washington, the boys were becoming impatient, although they had enjoyed the last few days immensely.
Until after they had left Chicago, Mr. Wilson was rather quiet, bending his efforts solely on managing the car. But when the metropolis had disappeared from view, he inquired about his friends’ expedition into the Andes Mountains.
“Perhaps I’m not much of an adventurer, but somehow I wouldn’t care for that sort of a life,” he laughed, after Mr. Wallace had related the outlines of the expedition. “I wouldn’t mind taking a trip to that place—put up at a hotel, or the like. But when it comes to straying off the traveled road, well——” He stopped meaningly.
Bob laughed.
“It’s a good thing people aren’t all alike,” hesaid. “If they were, either the wilds or the civilized places would be filled to capacity.”
Although the youths were anxious to reach their destination, they found the drive East interesting, even though they had made it before. Their attention was so held by the many interesting sights that, almost before knowing it, they found themselves in Pittsburgh, after having eaten a lunch several hours before. In the business district they engaged rooms in a small but comfortable hotel.
If Mr. Wilson and the naturalist were tired, the youths were not. They insisted on taking a look at Pittsburgh, which they had not seen for many months. An hour or two of looking around and they would return to the hotel, remarked Bob.
During that time the young men found much to hold their interest. The great fiery blast furnaces, the towering skyscrapers, the crowds of pleasure seekers, and the lights of river boats all kept them gay with amusement.
At last, when they finally made themselves return to the hotel, they found that their friends had gone. Evidently the lure of a great city was too much for them.
“And Mr. Wilson said he was dead tired,” said Joe with a smile.
“They’re no different from us,” said Bob. “Want to keep on the go, I guess.”
Mr. Wallace and his friend did not return until late, much to the amusement of the youths. Both men wore a sheepish look as they caught sight of Bob and Joe.
“Sorry, but we just had to get out,” grinned the newspaper man, walking drowsily through the lobby. “Couldn’t stand it to stay inside.”
“Perhaps you’ll pay the penalty of oversleeping,” laughed Joe, “and we won’t get started until late.”
Joe proved wrong, however, for early the next morning they were up making ready to resume the journey. From Pittsburgh the traveling promised to be slower, owing to the increased traffic and mountainous country. But Mr. Wilson was determined to make good time, and did, reaching York, Pennsylvania, at one o’clock.
Here the youths and the naturalist were to take their leave, while the newspaper man would continue to New York City. Had he not been in a great hurry he would have insisted on driving them on to Washington. As it was, his business prevented his doing so.
With a hearty farewell, the boys and Mr. Wallace left his car and made their way to a railroad station, where they boarded a train for the nation’s capital.
An hour and a half of traveling brought themto Baltimore, and now the youths began to feel that they were in home territory. In this city a delay was inevitable, but at last the train resumed its journey to Washington, which it reached in due time.
Since Mr. Wallace and the boys had not known exactly when they would arrive, they had not expected anyone to meet them at the station. But much to their surprise they found that Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis were waiting for them when they went down from the tracks.
“Boys!” cried Mr. Holton excitedly. “And there’s Wallace, too. How are you, old man?”
There followed a wild shaking of hands, patting of backs, and general welcome, in which Mr. Wallace took as large a part as the others.
“How did you know we would come on that train?” inquired Bob wonderingly. “Mr. Wallace didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Not exactly,” Mr. Lewis returned, picking up a suitcase. “But he said you would probably get near Washington today, and that York, Pennsylvania, would be your junction point. So Howard”—referring to Mr. Holton—“and I called up the station to find out when the train would get in. We were here this morning, when the early one arrived.”
The newcomers were led to Mr. Holton’s car, which was parked a short distance away. Glad ofthe chance to relax, the youths and Mr. Wallace threw themselves tiredly into the seats.
As mentioned previously, the respective homes of Bob and Joe were located next door to each other, almost at the edge of the city. They were not of costly design, but were comparatively new and pleasing.
Mr. Holton had barely brought the car to the curb when the boys’ mothers, along with Bob’s small brother and Joe’s sister, came out to meet them. There followed another greeting, if anything warmer than the first. Mr. Wallace, upon being introduced, received a hearty welcome. It might be added that he was to remain with either the Holtons or the Lewises until the expedition would depart for South America.
“Now tell us what happened,” urged Mrs. Lewis, Joe’s mother, when everyone had assembled in the living room of the Holton home.
Briefly Bob related the adventures of himself and his friend, from the time they lost the car in the river to the present. He told of coming to the washed-out bridge, of the forced abandoning of Joe’s coupé, and of boarding the freight train where Spike Weaver was trapped. The forced ride to Chicago, the calling on Mr. Wallace, and the eventful days that followed were described fully, while the others listened breathlessly.
“Quite an experience,” commented Mr. Holton,when his son had finished. “Not many could have gone through it all.”
The friendly gathering lasted until late that afternoon. As there was no use making further preparations for the coming expedition, all but Bob and Joe took it easy. The youths, however, thought it best to notify the insurance company about losing Joe’s car.
At request, the company agreed to send out an investigator without delay. He arrived as soon as was promised and asked that Bob and Joe accompany him to the spot where the car plunged into the river.
When they arrived at the familiar spot, Bob and Joe were not surprised to see that workmen were repairing the washed-out bridge. The men were aware that a car was at the river bottom.
“I’ll take a few notes,” said the insurance man. “Then we’ll go back. And let me assure you that this matter will be looked after promptly.”
Back at their homes, Bob and Joe were surprised to see a tall young man of perhaps twenty-five conversing with the three naturalists in the Holton library.
Mr. Lewis looked up suddenly as he caught sight of his son and Bob.
“We’ve a surprise for you,” he said smiling. “Part of the Andes expedition is going by airplane.”
THEsurprise of Bob and Joe was almost inconceivable. They stood staring for several seconds before either seemed to grasp the full significance of the naturalist’s words.
“Airplane? Going by airplane?” gasped Joe. “How come?”
His father laughed.
“We expected to see you fellows startled,” Mr. Lewis said. “But that you would show such unusual astonishment we did not in the least anticipate.” He turned to the stranger. “This,” he went on, addressing the youth, “is Mr. Karl Sutman, who is going to take several members of the expedition in his airplane, or rather monoplane. Karl, I want you to meet Bob Holton and Joe Lewis, the young men we were just talking about.”
“Glad to know you, fellows,” the aviator greeted, extending a hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Mister——” Bob began, but was interrupted.
“Karl, if you don’t mind,” the tall man laughed. “I don’t care for that ‘mister’ stuff. First name fits me good enough.”
“Good enough for us, too,” said Joe with a smile. “Call us Bob and Joe.”
These informalities tended to bring about a feeling of friendliness which was noticeable in the conversation that followed.
“Will you please explain how it all came about?” asked Bob. “This airplane stuff almost took Joe and me off our feet.”
“Off your feet you’ll be in a few days,” chuckled the aviator. “That is if you ginks are picked out to go with me in the plane.”
“If there’s any air traveling, we want to be in on it,” Bob assured him. “But—” he hesitated a moment—“how did it all come about?”
“I’ll tell you,” Mr. Lewis said. “Karl’s dad and I are very good friends—have been for many years. Now when Karl learned of this coming expedition, he at once looked me up and offered to take part of us in his monoplane. All that he’ll charge will be for the gas and oil, and he’ll pay a share of that. The fact that he is a licensed transport pilot makes the whole thing a pretty safe venture.”
“And I’ve had six hundred hours of flying—without a single mishap,” Karl added proudly. “The monoplane I own is one of the fastest and most efficient machines there are. It’ll do a hundred and fifty miles an hour with no trouble at all.”
“Sounds well enough,” smiled Joe. “Tell us some more.”
During the next few minutes the young aviator explained in detail the plans made for the trip. His machine, he said, could carry four passengers and the pilot, and there was a possibility of adding one more. Just who those passengers were to be, the others could decide. The course they would follow he had mapped out carefully, taking into consideration the possibility of having to land at any time. Norfolk, Virginia, would be the last large American city they would see. From there they would proceed south over the Bahama Islands and Cuba, and then on to the north coast of South America. At Bogotá, Colombia, a stop would probably be made for fuel. They would then continue along the coast mountains (Andes) over Colombia, Ecuador, and into Peru. At Mollendo, a small but important coast town, the air travelers would wait to join the other members of the expedition, who would arrive several days later by steamship.
When Karl had finished, the youths were overflowing with enthusiasm. Their imaginations had been captivated by the prospects of a unique air trip into the Andes. That they could accompany Karl they sincerely hoped.
“Of course,” began Joe, addressing his father, “Bob and I will be among the passengers, will we not?”
Mr. Lewis looked grave. He did not have any too much faith in aviation.
“We’ll see,” he replied. “Your mothers will have to give their consent, you know. It may prove difficult to get that.”
“I think we can bring them around,” Bob said, with an optimism that he was far from feeling, “especially if you and Dad decide to go. And you will, won’t you?”
“Impossible for me to do so,” returned Mr. Lewis. “I’ve already made reservations on a steamship. As for Mr. Holton, he may make arrangements to go.”
“But right now,” started Karl, rising, “how would you fellows”—referring to Bob and Joe—“like to come with me out to the airport? I want to show you the ’plane.”
“Lead us there!” cried Joe at once. “We want to take in everything.”
The youths’ fathers had been to the airport theprevious day, and so did not care to go again. The boys and Mr. Wallace, however, desired to see the monoplane, especially since there was a chance of their becoming passengers.
It was nearly noon, but the four decided to leave at once. They could get a lunch somewhere else, perhaps at the airport.
“Besides, we’re not hungry,” explained Joe, when the others asked that they leave an hour later. “Excitement and activity make us forget all about eating.”
At the airport the youths and Mr. Wallace were taken to a corner of the field, just off the cement runway. There, before their eyes, was a large white monoplane, shining brightly with a coat of fresh paint.
“Ain’t it a dandy?” Karl was beaming all over with pride. “Just been completely inspected. It’s just r’arin’ to go!”
They walked up to the machine to examine it at close quarters.
“Sure a peach for looks,” commented Joe. “Got an air-cooled motor, too. How about getting inside?”
“Go ahead. You’ll find it as accommodating as a street car.”
“It’s all of that,” agreed Bob a moment later, when he had opened the door and stepped into thecabin. “Those comfortable deep seats appeal to me.”
“Seats aren’t as important in an airplane as in a bus,” laughed Karl. “No bumps in the air.”
On either side of the cabin were two chairs, placed several feet apart. In the middle of the floor was a small folding table, which the boys guessed had been placed there by Karl as a convenience to members of the expedition. A wide glass window separated the pilot’s cockpit from the passenger section, and the two were connected by a telephone apparatus. Three large windows were in each wall, which was slightly curving near the ceiling. At the rear was a large compartment for food, maps, and other equipment.
“Now that you’ve looked it over, how would you like to go up for a short ride?” the aviator asked, as the others examined the ship minutely.
“Like nothing better!” came from Bob. “Can we go now?”
“Yeah. Everybody hop in. Be sure that door’s tight.”
Delighted at such an opportunity, the youths and Mr. Wallace took places in the cabin, while Karl climbed into the cockpit.
A few seconds later there came the roar of the motor, and then the passengers felt themselves moving.
The ’plane rolled over the cement runway for several hundred feet, then gradually left the ground and began climbing steadily.
“We’re in the air!” cried Joe excitedly. He and his friend had never been in a monoplane before. “Doesn’t feel unusual, does it?”
“I wouldn’t know it if I didn’t see the ground dropping away from us,” Bob said. “We’ll probably appreciate the absence from jolts and jars.”
This easy conversation was made possible by the heavy insulation between the pilot’s and passengers’ quarters. As a result, the roar of the engine was silenced to a remarkable degree.
When just above the airdrome, they heard Karl’s voice through the telephone.
“How does it feel?” the aviator asked. “Think you’d like flying?”
“Sure,” came from Joe, speaking through the transmitter. “It’s a hundred per cent better than land traveling.”
The experience was not novel to Mr. Wallace, who had once crossed the continent in a huge tri-motor monoplane. But nevertheless he appeared to be enjoying it as much as the young men.
An altitude of perhaps a thousand feet was reached, and then the ’plane shot ahead toward the business district of Washington.
They had been in the air perhaps five minuteswhen Karl’s voice was again heard through the telephone.
“See anything familiar below?”
“By George!” exclaimed Bob wonderingly. “We’re right above our houses. Suppose anybody sees us?”
“Guess not,” his chum said. “They’re not out, anyway.”
A much higher altitude was reached, and their direction of travel was changed.
From that height, the passengers could easily make out the business district, including the United States Capitol, the White House, and other government buildings. In addition, they could see several score miles in every direction.
“Isn’t that Baltimore over there?” queried Joe, his keen eyes scanning the landscape.
“It is at that,” observed Mr. Wallace. “The atmosphere isn’t any too clear, though, and we can’t make it out very plainly.”
“We’re a great distance away, too,” remarked Bob. “Wonderful when you think about it, isn’t it?”
They circled around for a few minutes and then headed back to the airport, as the aviator did not care to use too much gas.
When again on the ground, Bob and Joe were more anxious than ever to be among those of theexpedition who would travel by air. Their eagerness was increasing with every minute.
“You’ve got to let us go!” said Bob to his father, when he and his friends had returned home. “Why, just see what we’ll be missing if we don’t.”
“You may be missing death,” Mr. Holton returned grimly. “But then,” he went on, raising his voice, “the chances are that nothing will happen. Any more, airplane accidents are rare. I’ve almost decided to go myself. It will be a chance of a lifetime.”
“Then—then you mean we can go?”
“I haven’t exactly said so,” the naturalist answered. “There is your mother, don’t forget.”
“Perhaps she won’t consider it so wonderful,” suggested Mr. Wallace, who had been induced to spend the few days before leaving with the Holtons.
Bob’s mother did not at all like the idea when it was put before her later. But she did not protest so violently when she saw that her husband was actually bent on going. After all, his judgment had seldom failed him, and most likely would not now. Then, too, she was somewhat of an air enthusiast herself, having great faith in the development of aviation. And what Mr. Holton did she usually considered fit for Bob.
Joe had more difficulty in securing the consentof his parents, for they were doubtful as to the outcome of such a venture. Mr. Lewis, however, was well acquainted with Karl Sutman, and knew him to be an excellent airplane pilot, besides being a resourceful, well-thought-of citizen. In the end, Joe’s parents consented to the youth’s going, especially when they learned that Mr. Holton and Bob intended to go. Mr. Lewis, however, had already booked passage on a steamship, and could not cancel his arrangement, much as he would have liked to.
The two chums were delighted beyond words.
“It’ll seem strange without your father with us, though,” said Bob. “We all went together on our other trips, and——”
“He’ll meet us in Mollendo,” Joe reminded him, and then added: “Wonder if Mr. Wallace will go in the ’plane?”
That person desired very much to do so, but hesitated to let Mr. Lewis make the ocean trip alone. Joe’s father, though, declared he would not be without companions, for he was acquainted with several members of other divisions of the expedition. A Mr. Thomas L. Wells, of the division of ethnology, was a very close friend of the naturalist.
“So, although I would like for you to come with me on the boat, I want you to go in the airplane,”Joe’s father said to Mr. Wallace, “because I know you are bent on doing so, and it is a wonderful opportunity.”
The result was that Mr. Wallace made preparations to go by air, much to the delight of Bob and Joe. Since their first meeting with the naturalist several months before, the youths had taken a great liking to him.
Making ready for the airplane trip was a novel experience to Bob and Joe. They found there was much to be purchased in the way of suits, caps, goggles, and other provisions. Aviator’s togs, the young men knew, would not be strictly necessary, as it was a monoplane with a closed cabin. But they thought it best to get them, since they could also be used for general outdoor clothes.
“Here’s something the express man left you, boys,” Mr. Holton called, when the chums returned from a shopping trip downtown.
Eagerly Bob and Joe opened the large box. A minute later, when they saw its contents, they uttered exclamations of joy.
“The moving-picture camera and film, from the Neuman Motion Picture Corporation!” cried Bob happily. “It got here just in time, didn’t it? We’ll be leaving day after tomorrow.”
The Neuman Motion Picture Corporation, a large firm that released educational films, had engagedthe services of Bob and Joe on their two previous expeditions. The youths took moving pictures of the strange lands they visited, and so pleased the film company that they were given the opportunity of again taking moving pictures while in the Andes Mountains. Always the boys were paid a substantial sum for their trouble, which to them was sheer pleasure.
“Inca land you’ll find to be perhaps the most interesting place you’ve photographed,” Mr. Holton told them. “If you do this well, the company will almost eat you up in their praise of you.”
“The Inca empire is still sort of a mystery to me,” said Joe. “I’ve read quite a bit about it, and Mr. Wallace and Bob and I saw that movie in Chicago, but it’s still all not quite clear. I know how the country around there looks. It is the empire itself that I don’t know much about.”
“Not being an archæologist, I don’t know a great deal about it,” Mr. Holton said. “Perhaps not much, if any, more than you fellows. I do know, though, that the Incas maintained a socialistic state, in which everyone was forced to work on a given piece of land without deriving any direct benefit. The grain that they raised all went to a common storehouse, and everyone drew from it in times of stress.”
“A sort of depression insurance,” laughed Joe.
“Might call it that,” the naturalist said with a smile. “At any rate it seemed to prove effective.”
“How about the wild animals and birds in Peru?” asked Bob. “Are there many there?”
“Now you’ve mentioned a subject that I know something about,” returned Mr. Holton. “Yes, there are countless numbers of interesting wild creatures in those mountains. Most impressive of all is perhaps the condor, the largest bird that flies. We naturalists wish particularly to investigate reports of a species of condor that is pure white in color. Whether we’ll find it we have yet to see. But there are other birds and animals that we feel sure of getting, such as the puma, armadillo, lizard, guanaco, fox, and snipe. We aren’t allowed a great deal of time in the Andes, but we feel certain that a large number of wild creatures will fall at the report of our rifles.”
The next two days were busy ones for Bob and Joe. They frequented the business district often to get minor articles that they would need on the trip, and by the time the great day of leaving came they had finished all preparations.
After breakfast Mrs. Holton and Mr. Lewis drove the leavetakers to the airport. When they arrived at that place they found that an expert mechanic had just completed a thorough inspectionof Karl Sutman’s monoplane, and had found it in perfect running order.
Their belongings were all placed in the provision compartment, and then, with sincere farewells, the youths, Mr. Holton, and Mr. Wallace climbed into the cabin, while Karl took his place in the cockpit.
The engine was started, and then, after the travelers had called out one last farewell and promise to be careful, the monoplane rolled heavily over the concrete runway and pointed its nose toward the southern sky.
“We’re off!” cried Joe excitedly. “Off for the Andes Mountains!”
ASthe monoplane rose higher, Bob and Joe and the others waved to the little group below until it faded from view. Then they turned to take in the country they were passing over.
Streets, buildings, vehicles, and people were mere specks below, as Karl sent the machine to a new high altitude. Past the city of Washington, and then on—on above the many small cities and towns of southern Maryland.
“Wonderful view!” breathed Joe Lewis, gazing out at the wonderful panorama that was spread out before them.
“Bet we can see fifty miles,” added Bob. “There’s the Potomac River over there, and away off in the distance seems to be the ocean. I wonder if it is?”
Bob and Joe were strangely unaware of forward movement, though they were going nearly twice as fast as the fastest automobile. The comfortableenclosed cabin kept out the fierce roar of the wind, and heavy insulation silenced the noise of the engine to a remarkable degree. Thus they found it easy to carry on conversation.
They made the hundred-and-forty-mile trip to Norfolk in little more than an hour. Then, after leaving this city behind, they passed over North Carolina until finally the ocean loomed up before them.
When the last stretch of land had been left behind, Bob and Joe were thoughtfully silent. What if anything should happen while they were out here above the boundless water, with no place near on which to land? It was not pleasant to think of plunging hundreds of feet into the ocean, even though the water might be calm.
As they flew farther, Joe was surprised that they had not seen ships below them.
“This isn’t a route of travel,” explained Mr. Holton. “We probably won’t see any large liners till we get farther south.”
Later they were able to make out several tramp steamers, which, when viewed at that altitude, appeared to be at a standstill. Just where the vessels were heading the air travelers could only guess.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the youths and the naturalists found themselves in a heavy cloud,which hid the ocean from view. It was so dark that Mr. Wallace almost mechanically switched on a light.
“Wonder if this means danger?” mused Joe, gazing intently out of the window at the haze.
“I was wondering the same thing,” came from Mr. Holton. “If it does, we ought to hear from Karl before long.”
But before long they passed out of the cloud and once more could see the ocean. But now the sun was nowhere in sight.
“We may have some rain,” said Karl through the telephone. “Be sure all the windows are closed tightly.”
Bob wondered if rain would be a hindrance to flying, although he hesitated to put the question before Karl. If the truth were known, he was not a little worried.
As they flew farther the sky became more overshadowed. Dark, threatening clouds hovered near, as if to warn the air travelers to seek a place of refuge. It was not a pleasant sight to the four passengers.
All at once they had a sudden sensation of falling, which almost took their breath away. It lasted but a brief moment, however, much to the relief of all.
“What caused that?” asked Joe, who had turned pale.
His question was answered a little later by Karl.
“Feel that drop?” the aviator asked. “I did that to see if we can’t get below the storm area.”
“How far did we fall?” inquired Mr. Wallace interestedly.
“Only a few hundred feet. And I steered over to the east, too. We seem to be out of the storm area.”
Now, as they flew on, the travelers could easily glimpse the dark mass of clouds that they would have been forced to pass through had they remained strictly on their course.
An hour or so before noon, the explorers caught sight of a little group of islands, and in the distance they could make out one that was much larger.
“We’re nearing the West Indies,” observed Mr. Wallace jubilantly. “That large island away over there is probably Abaco.”
As they neared the land, Karl dropped to perhaps a thousand feet. From this altitude they could command a good view of the country below them. It was for the most part wild and uninhabited. There was a great deal of fog hovering about, or they could have seen many more islands.
They were nearing the tropics, as evidenced by the mercury rising in the thermometer. As they were traveling evenly, it was safe to open the windows.The resulting gush of wind was at once greatly appreciated.
“We’ll have about three hundred and seventy-five miles of traveling before we reach Cuba,” announced Karl, as they passed over a large cluster of islands. “Maybe we’d better land there, at least for a few minutes. It’ll give the ’plane a chance to cool off, and then, too, we can look it over.”
It was three hours later that Bob caught sight of what appeared to be a long black line stretching out of sight to their left. That line gradually took shape and color, and the explorers found themselves nearing Cuba.
On the side nearest them was a large mountain, with a cone-like top that gave it the appearance of a volcano.
Within sight of this peak, Karl picked out a level stretch of ground and sent the monoplane downward. He found it necessary to make a spiral landing, as there was danger of otherwise striking a line of low, sharp peaks.
Bob and Joe watched closely as the ground came up to meet them. Then they felt the wheels bump, and they knew they were safe.
“All out!” called Karl, appearing at the cabin door. “That is, if you want to rest your legs.”
The others needed no urging. They climbed stiffly out of the ’plane and stretched freely. Whilethey had not been cramped, they had nevertheless not been allowed the freedom of violent exercise.
“So this is Cuba,” observed Joe, yawning and looking at the green jungle, which seemed everywhere about them.
“Not much to be seen in this part of the island,” Mr. Wallace told them. “We’re at the extreme eastern end.”
They looked around a bit, though, to satisfy their curiosity.
When they finally returned to the ’plane, after taking a tramp toward the high peak, the explorers were ready to devour anything in the way of food.
Sandwiches and iced tea, the latter having been kept cold in a thermos jug, served as a meal, and proved to be very satisfying to the hungry explorers.
Then, after taking a short rest in the shade of the monoplane, they prepared to resume the journey.
“Now comes the worst part,” said Karl, with a frown. “We’ll have to fly for over five hundred miles without seeing a trace of an island. The Caribbean Sea may prove treacherous for tropical storms, too.”
Luck was with them the first half of their trip. The sky remained clear and light, not giving the slightest indication of a change of weather.
Then suddenly, when the travelers’ hopes werehigh, they noticed that the sky was becoming dark and threatening. A fierce wind was blowing with a dangerous velocity, which threatened to send the monoplane off its course.
Karl guided the machine off to the west, in the hope of passing beyond the storm area. He speeded up to over a hundred and fifty miles an hour, for he knew that whatever he did must be done quickly.
But try as he did, he could not escape the heavy clouds and terrible wind.
His hope almost gone, he sent the ship to a much higher altitude, thinking it might be possible to get above the clouds.
But it was too late. With a rush and a roar, the tropical hurricane was upon them.
NEVERin their lives had the explorers witnessed anything like the terrible onslaught that followed. The violent, ruthless wind dashed the monoplane about dangerously, threatening at every moment to tear it to pieces. It was but a frail, man-made machine when caught in those forces of nature.
Karl’s ability as a pilot promised to be tested to the utmost. If he could keep the ship straight it would be nothing short of miraculous. The less skillful aviator would send his craft dashing down to the foamy water below. But Karl was by no means a novice. He had had wide experience in piloting passenger monoplanes on schedule across the United States.
“Sit tight!” he called through the telephone, suspecting that his friends were frightened. “We’ll get out some way—I hope.”
Every gust of wind tossed the ’plane abouthazardously. It seemed that a plunge would be inevitable.
In the cockpit Karl Sutman was determined to bring his friends and himself safely through the danger. With nerves of steel, he hung on desperately to the stick and the rudder bar, keeping his keen eyes glued to the horizon.
It was indeed a race between life and death, as the staunch ’plane was swung about at the mercy of the storm. Many times before had the machine proved itself capable of withstanding the assault of the elements, but this was the supreme test. If it could weather this, it would indeed be a strong machine.
Inside the cabin, the youths and the naturalists were pale with an awful fear that this would be the end. They could not conceive of passing safely through such a hurricane as this. They were only too aware that many an aviator had gone to his doom in a tropical storm.
Now, to add to the terrible scene, a heavy rain began to fall, coming in great gusts with the wind. It pattered ominously on the wings, bearing the monoplane down with the added weight.
“Oh!” groaned Joe, almost giving up in despair. “I suppose the worst is yet to come.”
“Cheer up,” said Mr. Holton, who was inclined to be hopeful, as he noticed that the wind wasblowing more evenly. “It can’t last so very much longer.”
Despite this expression of optimism, the hurricane continued at full force, although a bit smoother than at first. Now the wind, instead of coming in great gusts, blew steadily.
This made it slightly easier to handle the ’plane and took some of the severe strain from Karl. But he still was forced to use all his energy in keeping the craft at as even keel as possible.
All knew that a tropical storm was usually over a wider area than one in the temperate zone. It was this that had made it impossible for Karl to steer the ’plane to safety before the gale struck.
Only gradually did the monoplane pass through the clouds, which extended many miles in every direction.
Finally, when a clear sky again became visible, the explorers uttered cries of relief. They had at last escaped what seemed like certain disaster.
Bob moved over to the transmitter.
“You were wonderful, Karl, old boy!” he praised. “If most anyone else had been in your seat, we wouldn’t be in the air now.”
“Oh, there are plenty others that could have done it,” the aviator returned, his voice sounding a bit nervous. “I just saw that I had to get out some way and did everything I could.”
The storm had served in no small measure to heighten the explorers’ admiration for their pilot. If the latter could safely guide them through such a display of the elements, he could be depended upon for almost any crisis.
The brilliant sun was now rapidly showing itself in full view, casting a sparkling reflection on the ocean. All evidences of the storm were covered up, even the heavy foam caps having disappeared. It was as though nature were repenting of her arduous activities.
As they flew on, the explorers had a strong hope that the weather would remain calm during the remainder of their journey. They were nearing land now, and they wished to finish the trip in a cloudless sky.
At last, when they were becoming weary from seeing nothing but boundless water, they suddenly caught sight of a dim shape that covered the whole of the horizon. That shape became larger and more plain, until it took on the form of land.
“Hurrah!” cried Bob joyfully. “South America at last!”
“I believe you’re right,” came from his father. “It——”
“Announcing our arrival at the great continent of South America!” Karl’s voice, coming loudly through the telephone, broke off with a laugh.
As they came nearer, the aviator guided the machine to a lower altitude, although still high enough to see many miles in every direction.
But it was a long while before they could make out plainly the details of the coast. Fog made it necessary to fly very near in order to see anything distinctly.
“I believe I can make out the Andes,” said Joe, gazing out at the distant horizon.
“Don’t be sure,” laughed Mr. Wallace. “Those mountains are a long way off.”
Before long they had passed the coast and headed over the land, almost directly above the Magdalena River, whose course they could easily make out.
For the most part, the country they were flying over was rugged and uncultivated, but there were occasional towns and villages that dotted the valleys and clearings.
“Bogotá is the first large city we’ll see,” announced Karl. “We ought to get there by tomorrow noon.”
“Where will we spend tonight?” asked Joe, as he noticed that darkness was not far off.
“Suppose we land before long and put up our tent,” suggested Mr. Holton, stepping up to the telephone transmitter.
“I was just getting ready to do that,” Karlanswered him, and then added: “Here’s a good spot now.”
There was a wide, level field directly below them. Karl sent the monoplane off to the west and then headed it back and downward.
A perfect three-point landing was made in the tall grass, the ship coming to a stop at the very edge of a frowning jungle.
Once more the explorers got out and stretched their legs.
Bob and Joe had just started over to the jungle when they heard something that made them turn about quickly.
“There’s a leak in the gas tank,” Karl said ominously, “and the gas is almost gone. We landed just in time.”
ATKarl’s dread discovery the others uttered exclamations of alarm and astonishment.
“What could have caused it?” asked Bob grimly.
The aviator shook his head.
“Can’t say,” he returned. “Maybe something pierced it while we were in Cuba. Could have made a small leak that let out a little at a time. Or the storm could have done it.”
“Good thing we were able to make it across the Caribbean,” remarked Mr. Holton. “If it had been much larger, perhaps we wouldn’t be here now to find it out.”
The short-lived tropical twilight was upon them, with a promise of darkness being only a few seconds off.
“Suppose we put the tent up while we can see to do it,” suggested Bob. “Then we can attend to the leak in the morning. There’s some solder in the provision compartment, and we can put some of iton now to keep the remainder of the gas from running out.”
The others thought this good advice. While the youths and the naturalists made camp, Karl Sutman applied a heavy coat of liquid solder over the cut in the gasoline tank.
“I guess we’re in a mess,” the aviator said disgustedly. “We’ve used up all the gasoline in the spare tank, and now we haven’t enough to take us twenty-five miles. We could have flown to Bogotá easily if it hadn’t been for that leak.”
“Bet there isn’t a gasoline station within fifty miles of here,” groaned Joe, glancing at the rugged country that was on all sides of them.
Darkness overtook the explorers before they had completed making camp. They were forced to turn on the lights of the monoplane until they could gather sufficient twigs for a fire.
When finally a roaring blaze illuminated the sky, they turned to complete making the camp.
As a precaution, this was made on a spot several hundred feet from the monoplane. This would do away with the danger of an explosion, for the intense heat from the fire might easily have ignited the remaining gas in the tank.
“Now to get a meal,” said Bob, edging closer to the blaze to escape the chill of the tropical night.
A delicious spread of food was prepared, alleating heartily. The eventful day had stimulated their appetites highly.
“I suppose there’s no use worrying,” grunted Karl, stretching out before the fire. “We’ll find a way out somehow. If we can’t do anything else, we can all hike to a town and carry back enough gas to carry us a short distance. Then we can hike to another town, and do the same thing over again.”
“Do these towns around here have gas, though?” came from Joe. Despite Karl’s expression of hope, he feared the worst.
“That we don’t know,” Mr. Wallace said. “It may be there hasn’t been an internal-combustion engine in this region for years, if at all.”
A rapidly growing exhaustion made the explorers for the time being forget their cares and curl up in the tent, after having heaped the fire high with fresh fuel. They had not thought it necessary to stand guard, as there was probably nothing in this region that would bother them.
The next morning Karl got out a map of South America and spread it out on the tail of the machine.
“Here we are about twenty miles inland,” he said. “The nearest town appears to be about fifteen miles from here. Luckily it’s south, and we won’t have to go much off our course.”
“Think we can get gasoline there?” queried Joe.
“Probably not,” Karl answered. “But if we have to we can take a train to Cartagena—that’s a city not far from here on the coast. Of course they have gas there.”
They climbed into the monoplane, which, with a roar, rolled over the high grass and headed south. Karl kept the machine going at as slow a speed as possible, for he desired to use every ounce of fuel to advantage. But even then they made the short trip to the little town in but a few minutes.
“Here we are, right near the town.” Karl climbed out of the cockpit after having made a perfect landing.
Scarcely had the explorers stepped to the ground when they caught sight of a score or more natives running toward them. It was a motley crowd that surrounded the Americans a few seconds later.
Surprise, bewilderment, amazement were displayed on the faces of the Colombians. The monoplane they viewed with a certain awe that was almost childish in its sincerity.
As soon as the jabbering had abated somewhat, Mr. Holton addressed them in Spanish, asking if it might be possible to procure gasoline for the airplane.
The faces of some were expressionless, but a few shook their heads.
“We do not use gasoline here,” one man said inthe native tongue. “There are no great birds like this”—pointing to the monoplane—“in our land. And we have no carriages that are not drawn by animals.”
Mr. Holton then asked if it might be possible to get gasoline in Cartagena, the city on the coast.
Strange to say, the people did not know. Evidently they had never been to that place, although it was less than fifty miles distant.
“Well, then,” began Karl, “I suppose one of us will have to take a train to Cartagena. Whoever goes can take a gasoline can with him and get it filled. Then he can return on the next train.” The Americans could not help laughing at this, however necessary it might have been. The idea of boarding a train for a fifty-mile journey merely to get a can filled with gas seemed provoking.
“What a predicament!” roared Bob, catching hold of the monoplane in order to hold his balance.
“I suppose we ought to take this more seriously,” said Karl, who was also laughing. “But somehow it all seems humorous to me.”
At sight of the Americans laughing, the crowd of natives looked about sullenly. No doubt they thought the newcomers were making fun of them. Finally one man stepped up to Bob, and, with a sneer, uttered something in the native language.
The youth could only catch a word or two, but itwas enough to make him glare at the man in anger.
“Be careful, Bob,” warned his father. “There are too many of them for us to get into a scrap.”
“Aw, I could lick them all with one hand!” snarled the youth, his eyes resting fearlessly on first one and then another of the men.
He was able to control his temper, however, and as the Colombians made no further move, he turned to Karl Sutman.
“Why can’t I make that train trip?” he asked. “I’ll pay my own fare. Really I’ll enjoy it.”
“All right,” came from Mr. Wallace. “And I’ll go with you. It will take two to carry the gas can when it’s full.”
“Be careful,” warned Mr. Holton. “We won’t be surprised if you’re gone a day or two.”
At the railroad station, which was little more than a mud hut, they found that a train would arrive in less than three hours. They thought it best to remain near the depot, for the schedule might not be accurate.
The train finally came, but, much to their disgust, the two gas seekers were informed by the conductor that they would arrive in Cartagena no sooner than four hours later.
At last they started moving and slowly left the station behind. The little crowd that had assembledto see the train off waved a farewell as it disappeared around a curve.
Bob and the naturalist gazed intently out of the window at the barren country they were passing through. Only at intervals could they make out an adobe house.
They had gone perhaps an hour when they were startled by a sudden commotion at the head of the train. Bob was looking out of the window trying to make out what was going on when he suddenly felt the train come to an abrupt stop.
Wondering what was meant, he and Mr. Wallace had started toward the front of the coach when they were interrupted by a cry that echoed through the train.
“We’re being robbed!” exclaimed Mr. Wallace, hurrying back to the seat. “There’s a gang holding up the train!”
“ROBBED?”cried Bob, almost unbelievingly.
Before he could say anything further, a tall, dark man appeared at the front of the coach. Roughly he shouted something in the native tongue, at the same time flashing a shining pistol in full view of all.
“Quick!” exclaimed Mr. Wallace, taking advantage of an opportunity. “Hide our money—under the seat there next to you.”
The naturalist handed his pocketbook to Bob, who had taken his own purse from his pocket. The two he placed in a little crack between the seat and the side of the coach.
He was not a moment too soon. Scarcely had the youth resumed his natural position when the robber appeared before him and demanded money.
“Our pockets are empty,” Mr. Wallace told the man. “You can’t get anything from a poor man.”
The Colombian soon found that the naturalistspoke the truth. But even then he was a bit suspicious. Americans or Europeans—he knew not which they were—usually were rich, carrying with them much money. And that these two had boarded the train with empty pockets was indeed surprising.
Search as he did, however, he could find no trace of any money. But he was somewhat satisfied when he took possession of Mr. Wallace’s handsome watch.
Luckily Bob had left his timepiece in the cabin of the monoplane, having forgotten it in the excitement of the day. Strange to say, this was the first day in the week that the youth had not worn it.
“Well,” said Mr. Wallace, after the man had gone, “I lost the equivalent of fifty dollars. Not a great deal. But too much to have taken from me.”
“Good thing you thought to mention hiding our pocketbooks,” Bob told him. “If you hadn’t, we’d have been in a fine mess. Away out here in a strange country with no money.”
“And of course the railroad wouldn’t have made it good,” the naturalist said disgustedly. “If I ever have another watch I suppose I’ll have to pay for it.”
Ten minutes later the train was again chugging across the barren plateau. The robber gang had vanished before a cloud of heavy dust, perhaps not any too well satisfied with its exploit.
“I didn’t know this was dangerous territory,” remarked Bob Holton a little later. “Seemed like everyone was too lazy to do anything but loaf.”
“I guess we’ll find gangs anywhere we go,” Mr. Wallace told him. “At least that’s my opinion, after quite a bit of traveling.”
Bob recalled the bands of criminals he had met with at home and on the Sahara Desert, and concluded that his friend was right. No matter how much good there is in the world, there is always a certain amount of bad.
Two hours later the Americans were surprised to see that they were coming into a town. At the railroad station where they had boarded the train, they had not been told that another town was between them and the coast.
“This is Mahatos,” announced the naturalist, pronouncing the name as best he could.
“Guess everyone here wants strangers to be sure and know what town they’re in,” laughed Bob. “At any rate, that sign is plenty large. Almost hides the station.”
This town was much the same as the one at which they had boarded the train. They were glad when finally it was left behind.
“Wonder if we’ll make any more stops?” mused Bob with a smile.
“Don’t be surprised if we do,” Mr. Wallace replied.“For all I know there may be a dozen villages between us and the coast.”
During the next two hours the train crawled along without coming to a settlement. Then finally it passed a row of little black houses and pulled into Cartagena, the coast city.
“All out,” said Mr. Wallace, picking up the large gasoline can. “We’ve reached our destination at last.”
As the Americans looked about the well-built station, they found that this was a city of considerable importance. Crowds of people, clusters of business houses, and—what was more interesting to them—automobiles dotted the streets.
“Where there’s a motorcar there’s gasoline!” cried Bob joyfully. “Now who says we won’t put fuel in the airplane tank!”
They found a filling station—or at least a place where gasoline was sold—not far away and lost no time in having the can filled to capacity. Then they turned back to the railroad station.
“Our business in this city is completed in five minutes, after having made a four-hour trip here!” Bob could not help bursting out in laughter, and Mr. Wallace joined him.
They entered the railroad station and inquired when they might board a train back to Calamar.
Much to their displeasure, they found that itwould not be possible to do so until the next morning. The agent explained that it was necessary to repair a portion of the track, and that until this was completed, a run could not be made.
“Just as I expected!” groaned Bob, sitting down on the seat hopelessly. “To save your neck you can’t make time in South America.”
“What will we do to while the time away?” asked the naturalist.
“Look around, I suppose. Nothing else to do.”
The Americans found Cartagena very interesting. Its several industries were throbbing with life; its people were possessed of a certain amount of energy and ambition that was entirely absent farther inland.
The travelers were loitering along at the port, watching the steamers arrive and depart, when Bob suddenly caught sight of something that caused him to nudge his friend.
“Look at that fellow over there,” the youth pointed out. “Isn’t he an American?”
Almost at once Mr. Wallace made a reply. “He is as sure as I’m born. Or else”—the naturalist hesitated—“he’s English.”
The object of their remarks was a short, fat young man of perhaps twenty, with twinkling eyes and a pug nose. He was dressed in khaki outdoorclothes that stretched tightly over his protruding stomach.
Before Bob and the naturalist could make a further move, the strange young man walked over to them, his small, deeply set eyes flashing with merriment.
“Ain’t you from the good old U. S. A., or ain’t you?” he demanded, extending a short, fat hand.
“From nowhere else!” Bob was overjoyed. “And I take it that you are?”
“Right as four chipmunks!” the little fellow said quickly. “You’re lookin’ at Chubby Stevens, from Houston. And now that I’ve got that off my chest, I ain’t expectin’ you to hold your names a secret.”
Bob laughed.
“This is Mr. Wallace, and my name’s Holton—Bob Holton. I’m from Washington and my friend’s from Chicago.”
“A good bit of theEstados Unidosis represented here, I see,” Chubby said with a laugh. “The East, Middle West, and Southwest. I suppose you’re just lookin’ around?”
“For the present, yes,” Mr. Wallace returned, and then related the events that led to their being in Cartagena.
The fat youth listened intently.
“You may be wantin’ more of South America, but I don’t,” he said when the naturalist had finished. “I’ve been here a year and have got all I want of it. I’m longin’ to see the old Gulf Building, back in Houston. Dad’s office is there. He’s a lawyer.”
“And you—what are you doing here, just seeing the country?” inquired Bob.
“I’m seein’ too much of it to suit me,” Chubby answered. “Came here to look around and to get rid of some fat. But doggone it, I’m fatter now than I ever was. Guess I’ll have to cut out adventurin’ and take back my old job in the office, if I want to get skinnier.”
A burst of laughter followed.
“You’re hopeless, all right,” chuckled Bob. “I never saw a case like yours before. Why, I weighed a hundred and eighty before I left the States, and I’ll bet I don’t weigh much more than a hundred and seventy now. If exploring would do that to me, why won’t it do it to you?”
“That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to figure out for the last year,” Chubby returned. “Funny, but I used those same figures, but I just switched them around. Went from a hundred and seventy to a hundred and eighty. That’s away too much weight for a bozo my size to carry around.”
“Why don’t you try swimming back toAmerica?” laughed Bob. “That might do the trick.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about that, too, only I’m afraid I couldn’t take along enough to eat.”
“Oh!” Bob groaned hopelessly, and then, as he found that Chubby had just arrived in Cartagena, suggested that they take a walk about the city.
But as it was almost noon, Chubby suggested that they get a “bite” to eat. Just enough, he said, to prevent them from falling from hunger.
Mr. Wallace snorted.
“I suppose it’s impossible to do it,” the naturalist said earnestly, “but I’d like to take you along on our expedition into the Andes. If you’ll go, I’ll guarantee that you’ll get rid of twenty pounds.”
“Huh? Are you tryin’ to kid me?” Chubby looked up suddenly.
“Not a bit of it,” Mr. Wallace answered, trying hard to suppress a smile. “It works every time. You see, we have to get by on limited rations and——”
“Fine! I’llgo——What was that you said? Limited rations? That means less food, doesn’t it?”
Mr. Wallace nodded.
“Then I’m afraid,” began Chubby, shaking his head slowly, “that I couldn’t think of considering your proposition, however wonderful it might be. I’m——”
“It’s no use,” laughed Bob. “A heavy eater doesn’t make an explorer.”
Bob and the naturalist were finally persuaded to follow the fat youth’s suggestion and get a “bite” to eat. Then they continued their sightseeing.
Thus the remainder of the day passed, and they began to look about for a place to spend the night. Chubby resolved to remain with his newly found friends as long as the latter stayed in Cartagena. Then, he told them, he would take a boat to the United States.
The three Americans engaged a small room in a boarding house that was owned by a Canadian. Although it was not the utmost in comfort, they were glad to throw themselves on the hard bed to retire.
They passed a restful night, however, awaking late the next morning.
“What shall we do until train time?” asked Bob, preparing to leave the room.
“Look around some more, I suppose,” Chubby said. “In this country you can always find something you haven’t seen before. There’s a lot that’s funny, too. I’ve been laughing a year at the natives.”
“Maybe they’ve been laughing at you,” Bob thought to himself, but said nothing. The fat little fellow would indeed provoke a smile from many.
Until ten the three walked around the city, noticing everything that was peculiar to this strange land. When finally they came back to the railroad station, they were not a little fatigued. Especially tired was Chubby.
“Well,” Bob began, “we’ll leave in fifteen minutes, if we follow the set schedule. I suppose,” he said to the fat youth, “you’ve definitely made up your mind to go back home?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you won’t think of going with us to the Andes? We could use you, all right.”
“Sorry, but it’s North America for me.” Chubby spoke decisively. “This continent here ain’t fit for a gazook like me. I want to get back.”
He exchanged addresses with Bob and Mr. Wallace, pocketing his notebook just as the train steamed up to the station.
“Good-bye and good luck!” called Bob, as he stepped up into the coach. “Write us sometime.”
“Hope you lose some fat,” laughed Mr. Wallace, as they started moving. “And you’d better not try to swim to the U. S.”
The train moved slowly away, leaving Chubby to stand on the platform, still waving.
“Good fellow, all right,” smiled Bob, settling himself down in the seat. “All he needs is a little well-directed exercise.”
“I’m afraid he won’t get it,” said the naturalist. “He’ll probably be fat as long as he lives.”
The journey back to Calamar was uneventful. Bob and Mr. Wallace looked out rather fearfully as they passed the spot where they had previously been robbed. But no gang appeared this time to stay them.
Finally they reached their destination and left the train. They were greatly surprised to see that no one was there to meet them.
“That’s funny!” mused Bob, as he and the naturalist lugged the heavy gasoline can in the direction of the airplane. “I thought sure Dad or Joe would be here.”
When at last they came to the airplane, Bob gave a cry of surprise.
Seated on the ground were Joe, Karl Sutman, and Mr. Holton, their faces bleeding from numerous scratches, their clothes torn and wrinkled.