“That may take some doing, Jack. I’ve been told they maintain a hands-off policy with respect to this mine. There’s one thing you can do. When you reach Bogota, rent a plane and fly back here.”
“Fly? There’s no possible landing place.”
“True. You’re to survey the area, especially Emerald Valley in the locality where we saw those flashing signals. See if you can spot anything remotely resembling a bandit hide-out.”
“From the air that might be done! If I see anything suspicious, I’ll drop a message!”
“I hate to spare you for the trip, Jack,” Mr. Livingston went on anxiously. “But there’s no other way unless we get a trace of Willie and War.”
In an attempt to gather some information about the missing pair, the Scouts talked to several of the miners. They were able to confirm that Willie and War had left camp the previous night, starting down trail with only light equipment.
“Something important must have come up,” Ken said. “But it’s mighty queer they left no word.”
With Mr. Livingston, the Scouts searched the camp thoroughly without finding even a clue as to the strange disappearance. Nor could the missing boys be sighted through field glasses. Ken was in favor of seeking them afoot, but the trail had not been marked. If Willie and War had left the main path to wander in the bush, they might be hopelessly lost.
“I’m depending upon their good common sense,” Mr. Livingston asserted. “They know the dangers. If we wait a few hours, I think they may come dragging in under their own steam.”
As the morning wore on, the Scouts fretted at delay, yet acknowledged that hasty action would accomplish nothing. Rhodes, meanwhile, spurred by their discovery of the old Spanish mine, had put men to work rebuilding the washed out bridge. Watching the engineer direct the laborers, the Scouts lost some of their conviction that he previously had weakened the structure.