“Think he’ll get down?” Bob asked.
“He may and we will do nothing to injure him while he is trying,” Corso told them.
“We should throw a rock down on him,” Carlos declared hotly. “I wonder who the fellow is.”
“I believe that he is the last of a gang which was apprehended in Texas a few months ago. At that time he escaped—”
“Well, he’ll dash his brains out going down that cliff without a rope,” Carlos declared. “I know what it means to get to the bottom.”
“Expect we better spread our little wings and fly, my brother,” Bob proposed.
“We’ve lingered here quite a while,” Jim agreed. “Hope we meet you again, Yncicea and you too, Corso.”
“It will be a pleasure.” The Flying Buddies were anxious to get away before Carlos became too inquisitive about their touring friends, so the three hurried along the wild-S and finally reached the “Lark.” They piled into the cock-pits, waved to the two who were still standing by the ancient rocks of Amy-Ran, then the motor roared, the plane lifted, circled, leveled out, and started back to the plantation.
“Is it what you would call the completion of a—”
“The end of a perfect day,” Bob laughed gayly, then added, “Only it isn’t the end, it’s only the middle.” Soon the outlines of Cuzco began to roll toward them, and selecting the broad drive of the De Castro plantation, the Sky Buddy began to bring the “Lark” down. He gave a happy sigh as she touched the ground, then, his eyes turned toward the north.