“They say that some of these orchids can put you in a sleep from which you will never awaken,” said Mark. “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but if we have to sleep in the open another night let us take good care to keep away from anything that smells as strong as that plant yonder.”
“I heard the professor tell that one orchid produces vanilla,” said Frank. “He said there were over three thousand varieties of the plant.”
Again the forward march was resumed and when both were almost too tired to fight their way another step a river came into sight, flowing lazily along in the sultry daylight. Both looked at the water for a minute in silence then turned to each other in perplexity.
“It doesn’t look like the Orinoco,” declared Frank. “At least, not like the part just above the camp.”
“Exactly what I was thinking, Frank. I believe we’ve struck another stream entirely.”
“Then we are worse lost than we were before.”
“Perhaps not. This may be a tributary of the Orinoco. If so, by following this we are bound to find the Orinoco itself sooner or later.”
“True, but this may flow along for miles before it joins the Orinoco, and if it does join that stream, the question is: Does it join above or below the camp?”
“I’m sure I can’t answer that question, now. The only thing we can do is to follow this stream and trust to luck.”
“If only we had a canoe!”