“It’s mighty interesting,” I declared. “I believe you’ve actually seen the Lost City, Hazen. Balboa heard of it. The Dons spent years hunting for it and every Indian in Darien swears it exists.”
“Well, I never heard of it before,” said Hazen. “What’s the yarn, anyway?”
“According to the Indian story there’s a big city on a mountain top somewhere in Darien. They say no one has ever visited it, that it’s guarded by evil spirits and that it was there ages before the first Indians.”
“If they’ve never seen it how do they know it’s there?” Fenton demanded. “In my opinion it’s all bosh. How can there be a ‘lost city’ in this bally little country and why hasn’t someone found it? Why, there are stories of lost cities and hidden cities and such rot in every South and Central American country. Just fairy tales—pure bunk!”
“I know there are lots of such yarns,” I admitted. “And most of them I believe are founded on fact. Your South American Indian hasn’t enough imagination to make a story out of whole cloth. It’s easy to understand why and how such a place might exist for centuries and no one find it. This ‘little country’ as you call it could hide a hundred cities in its jungles and no one be the wiser. No civilized man has ever yet been through the Kuna country. But I’m going. I’ll have a try for that city of Hazen’s.”
“Well, I wish you luck,” said Fenton. “If the Kunas don’t slice off the soles of your feet and turn you loose in the bush and if you do find Hazen’s pipe dream, just bring me back a souvenir, will you?”
With this parting shot he rose and sauntered off towards the swimming pool.
“Do you really mean to have a go at that place?” asked Hazen as Fenton disappeared.
“I surely do,” I declared. “Can you show me the exact spot on the map where you saw the city?”
For the next half hour we pored over the map of Panama and while—owing to the incorrectness of the only available maps—Hazen could not be sure of the exact location of his discovery, still he pointed out a small area within which the strange city was located.