“How far are we from Caracas?” asked Mark, of one of the passengers.
“About three miles,” was the answer.
“Can’t we walk to that place?” asked Mark, of Professor Strong. “We have nothing but our little shoulder valises to carry.”
“I think we can walk it,” said the professor. “I will ask how the track ahead is.”
He did so and was informed that, so far as the track-walker knew, it was all clear. Accordingly they started out, the professor and Mark leading the way and the others following close behind.
They were in the shadow of the mountain so that the fierce rays of the sun did not reach them. They had left the tallest portion of the mountain behind, so the way was now all more or less down grade.
“I move we get off the railroad track and rest,” said Hockley, after half a mile had been covered. “We’re in no especial hurry to get to Caracas.”
The professor and the others were willing, and leaving the track they found shelter along a hillside covered with tropical trees and bushes. As they stepped away from the railroad they heard a humming sound and saw a handcar approaching, filled with men and tools, bound for the scene of the cave-in.
“They must have telegraphed for those fellows,” said Darry. “They will get the road into shape again in short order.”
It was very pleasant to lie under the trees in the shade, and Frank was so sleepy that he soon dropped into a doze. Mark walked around inspecting the surroundings, and to get a better outlook climbed a small cliff which arose not far away.