“Wouldn’t you prefer to be flying?” Barbara asked.
“This is immense,” Bob told her. “I suppose the men of the expedition have an airplane.”
“They have two,” the engineer answered, “but only one is at camp now. It’s a triple motor with a cabin, but the pilot has been sick for a couple of days so it has been out of use. The other chap flew to Jamaica to get some special equipment and will not be back for a couple of days.”
“My father is to see from what the pilot is suffering,” Donald remarked. “He did not let anyone know he did not feel well until this morning.”
“I hope it is not anything serious, poor fellow. He should have been brought in to town, it seems to me.”
“We wanted him to come, but he insisted he’d do all right if the doctor came and looked him over,” said the engineer.
“If he would be better in town, we will fetch him back,” Dr. Manwell announced confidently.
They were making their way through a swift pass between high, overhanging cliffs, and ten miles further along they saw the outskirts of the tiny settlement with its rows of tents, log cabins, community houses, and native’s quarters. There seemed to be very few persons about, but a couple of white boys came to meet the boat when it reached the dock, and caught the hawser the engineer tossed to them.
“I suppose you want to go right to the village, sir, but I thought our young American friends would like to go around the loop and get a good look at the works, whatever is near here,” the engineer said, and he glanced at the Buddies.
“That’s an excellent idea. It will not take long. I shall visit my patients, and suggest that the ladies of the party get things ready for our picnic luncheon,” the doctor proposed.