From the bay, the boat shot out into the open Caribbean sea and presently slowed down to enter a passageway leading to a marshy lake.
The sled continued to skim along between banks dense with tropical growth. Jack stole a glance at the woman passenger. She showed no interest in the scenery, and in fact, appeared bored. From her indifference, he concluded that she had made the trip on prior occasions and that the experience no longer interested her.
Without slackening speed, the sled raced on past villages of thatched huts. Only when they reached a great marsh, did the operator throttle the motor.
Anxiously, he studied the many bays and inlets which were heavily clogged with water-hyacinths.
“What’s wrong now?” Ken murmured, as Haredia tried first one and then another of the openings.
“He’s searching for a passageway through,” Mr. Livingston explained. “I hope we don’t clog the propeller.”
As the sled proceeded, the way became more difficult. Hyacinths were floating everywhere in dense masses.
“I’ll bet we’ve taken the wrong channel,” Willie muttered. “Haredia should turn back before we’re hemmed in.”
“He never will,” Ken replied. “Not that bird!”
For no reason that the Scouts could explain, they had taken a dislike to the operator of the sled boat. Haredia had not been hostile, but he had coldly ignored them. Though he had handled the boat skillfully enough in open water, it seemed to them that now that the going had become harder, he was abandoning all caution.