They were to proceed by way of a natural channel connecting the Magdalena River with the sea. The propeller boat in which they were to ride already was waiting.
“Queer looking contraption,” Ken remarked upon inspecting it.
The sea-sled was approximately thirty feet in length, motor-powered, and with curious runners. A canopy was provided as protection from the sun, and there were comfortable wicker chairs.
“Are we ready to start?” Mr. Livingston inquired cheerfully after the luggage had been placed aboard.
“Not yet,” the operator answered.
He was a young Colombian, dark-haired and with an extremely nervous manner.
The Scouts took their places in the sled-boat and waited. Fifteen minutes passed, and finally a half hour.
“Why the delay?” Jack finally asked, walking over to the boat operator.
“Waiting for another passenger,” the man answered curtly. “Don’t bother me.”
“What sort of service is this, anyhow?” Willie grumbled. “This late passenger must be a mighty important guy!”