“Then from the river’s source to the great white rock it will perhaps be two weeks’ journey?”
“Yes; I should think it probable.”
He was correct concerning the distance from Huari; it was evening of the fifth day when they pitched the shelter-tent on the edge of a dense, dark forest.
“My, but there’s sufficient quinine in there to cure a world of giants!” exclaimed Harvey.
“Those are not cinchona trees, my son,” said the Peruvian.
“No? But I thought this was the forest of cinchona trees.”
“So it is; for the reason that the valuable growth appears frequently in these woods. We will doubtless see many specimens during our journey, but none is in sight from here.”
“What does the tree look like, señor?”
“It resembles the beech, with the flowing branches of the lilac, and has smooth wood, susceptible of a high polish. The leaves resemble those of the coffee plant.”
“Are you versed in the method of preparing quinine from the bark, señor?”