“It’s well to be prepared. Our expedition may end at Cuertos. If we learn that Burton Monahan is dead and can establish it, that terminates our mission. On the other hand, if we discover that he went into the old Inca country, it will be our duty to trace him as far as we can. That’s why we’re sending plenty of supplies ahead.”
“I sure wish we hadn’t lost that translation,” War said gloomily.
“Forget it,” the Scout leader advised. “It’s gone, and we may as well stop worrying about it.”
Equipped with lists Mr. Livingston supplied, the Explorers packed carefully for the trip. Nothing was left to chance. Informed that they might expect extremes of weather in Peru, sweltering heat in the lowlands and frigid temperatures if their journey took them high into the mountains, they chose each item with great care.
Mr. Livingston personally inspected all luggage that was to go by boat. Every unnecessary item was discarded.
Finally, the last box was labeled and sent to the dock for shipment. On the day of sailing, the Rovers drove to the waterfront to see the Shark on her way. Mr. Livingston, having important duties elsewhere, was unable to accompany the group.
The vessel proved to be a small, rather filthy-looking schooner, which regularly carried cargo through the Panama Canal.
Bent upon exploring the vessel from stem to stern, the four Rovers started up the gangplank. A sailor stopped them.
“Sorry,” he said curtly. “No visitors.”
“But we came to see our stuff loaded,” Willie replied. “Captain Carter knows us. He won’t object.”