“This ends our outing tour in Venezuela I suppose,” said Frank. “Well, I am not sorry. We have still a good deal of ground to cover and we can’t afford to spend too much time in one place.”
Four o’clock of the next day saw them embarking at the foot of the bluff. They had carried Hockley to the canoe and now the disabled youth was placed on a grassy cushion which would add to the comfort of the boat ride.
“Good-bye to the camp!” cried Darry, as the boats left the shore. “More than likely we’ll never see the place again. Good-bye!” And the others echoed the words. Soon the turn in the river hid the locality from their view.
A few words more and we will bring to a close this story of sight seeing and adventures in Venezuela.
When our friends reached Castroville a surprise awaited them. Despite the guard which had been set, Dan Markel had escaped through the night, stolen one of the small boats on the river, and departed for parts unknown. A search lasting two hours had been instituted but had proved of no avail.
“We followed him down the stream to where there are several forks,” said Andy Hume. “He took to one of them, but which one we don’t know.”
“But he didn’t take any of my stuff with him, did he?” was Hockley’s anxious question.
“No, he escaped with nothing but his clothing and a pistol he stole from his guard.”
“Then let him go,” returned the lank youth. “I never want to see him again.”