The day was a perfect one and they found the first stage of the journey truly delightful. They passed through a rolling country and not far away were the mountains, with ridges sharply outlined against the sky. Some of the boys wanted to gallop ahead of the others but Amos Strong held them in check.
“We must keep together,” he said. “I don’t want any of you to get on the wrong road.”
In a couple of hours they passed through the town of Rio Piedras, taking a look at the various public buildings and at a large sugar mill which was in the course of construction. It was midday and the place looked deserted.
“Shall we remain here or push on to the next place?” asked the professor.
“Let’s push on,” said Mark, and soon they were on the way to Guaynabo, where they stopped for dinner at a native house which was far from large and not over clean. Yet a good meal was prepared for them, and this they ate eagerly, for the ride had given them an appetite.
Nightfall found them in the vicinity of Aguas Buenas. They had stopped a dozen times on the road, to look at the plantations, and once to assist a native whose ox cart had broken down. It had begun to cloud up and now a few drops of rain came down.
“We are in for a storm,” said Frank. “I reckon we had best look for some sort of shelter.”
“Why not push on to the next town?” questioned Sam.
“We can try it,” answered Professor Strong. “But there is no use of our getting soaked.”
Tropical storms are apt to come up in a hurry, and inside of a quarter of an hour it was raining in torrents. They had crossed the bridge of a small stream and now they found shelter under the shed of a long warehouse which was old and empty.