“Yes,” Carl suggested, “but won’t Mr. Havens and the boys remain in Quito two or three days waiting for us to come back?”
“I think not,” was the reply. “I arranged with Mr. Havens to pick us up somewhere between Quito and Lake Titicaca in case we did not return before morning. I have an idea that they’ll start out sometime during the forenoon—say ten o’clock—and reach this point, at the latest, by midnight.”
“They can’t begin to sail as fast as we did!” suggested Carl.
“If they make forty miles an hour,” Sam explained, “and stop only three or four times to rest, they can get here before midnight, all right!”
“Gee! That’s a long time to go without eating!” cried Jimmie. “And, even at that,” he went on in a moment, “they may shoot over us like a couple of express trains, and go on south without ever knowing we are here.”
Sam turned to Pedro with an inquiring look on his face.
“Where is Miguel?” he asked.
Pedro shook his head mournfully.
“Gone!” he said.
“Well, then,” Sam went on, “what about the red and blue lights? Can you stage that little drama for us to-night?”