“You need not have done that,” the boy said hastily.
“We wish you to be fully repaid,” she smiled. “Put it in your pocket, and we will go.”
“I ought to beat it back into the air,” Jim hesitated.
“Before leaving you can see and tell my husband—shake with him the hand that you forgive the—false thing he tell to you,” she pleaded so earnestly that it made Jim laugh to himself.
“All right,” he agreed. They certainly were a queer bunch, not at all like many of the strangers he had encountered since his arrival in South America, but it was a mighty big relief to be assured that they were peaceful citizens; not out to kill him or anyone else. He hopped out of the plane, assisted Mrs. Gonzalas to alight, and she started toward a great boulder which they skirted.
“On this side is a small stream, which we follow; my husband told me the way many times,” she explained with a smile.
The route was pretty rough, so Austin took her arm and helped her over the worst places, but she was so happy at their successful arrival that she hardly noticed the unevenness beneath her feet. In sections the brush was high and thick but the brothers had just broken through, leaving the way unmistakable, so the two proceeded until they reached a point where the river branched. Mrs. Gonzalas took the right turn and after ten minutes more travel, they came to a second fork, but water ran in only one of the beds. The woman plunged along the dry bed, scrambling so swiftly over the stones that Jim was sure she would stumble, but she was sure-footed. Presently they heard the voices of the men.
“Hello,” Jim called.
“Helloo,” Gonzalas responded quickly. He came toward them, followed by his brother, and Austin held out his hand.
“Glad I was able to help you,” the Flying Buddy assured them.