“The professor and Cubara are out looking for you. Hockley is in the tent. He fell in with a boa-constrictor and the snake nearly crushed him to death.”
“We’ve got news for him—news he’ll be glad to hear,” said Frank.
All walked up the bluff to the camp-fire and there each told his story. In the midst of the recitals Hockley roused up. He could scarcely believe his ears when listening to what Mark and Frank had to tell concerning Dan Markel.
“I’m glad you collared him,” he said, faintly. “I didn’t mind the money so much, but I hated to part with the watch. What will you do next? I can’t go over to that mining camp yet. I’m too sore.”
“We’ll see what the professor says,” said Mark.
The professor and the Indian came in a short while later. They had been up and down the river for miles and were thoroughly disheartened. When Professor Strong saw Frank and Mark he was overjoyed and could scarcely keep from hugging them.
“I was so afraid you had met your death in the jungle I knew not what to do,” he said. “I did not sleep a wink last night. We picked up your trail twice and lost it. We found the canoe and that led me to think that perhaps you were drowned.”
“We have had adventures enough to last us a year,” returned Mark. “I can tell you a life in the jungle is all well enough to read about, but in reality it isn’t half so pleasant as one imagines.”
It was arranged that all hands should move to the mining settlement the next afternoon, starting after the sun had spent its force for the day. Hockley was to be made comfortable in Cubara’s recovered canoe, with the professor to wait on him, while the other boys made the passage in the craft brought from Castroville.
The next morning was a busy one, for there were many things to pack up. Sam, Darry, Mark and Frank went out for a last hunt, taking Cubara with them. They brought in several peccaries and a score of birds, including two beautiful Venezuelan trumpeters, which they had found wading in a pool half a mile distant from the Orinoco.