“Or above the clouds,” Ben added, “if this fog keeps coming.”
Leaving the millionaire still studying over the needed repairs, Ben and his chum followed the circular cliff for some distance until they came to the east side of the cone. They stood looking over the landscape for a moment and then turned back to the machines silently and with grave faces.
“Have you got plenty of ammunition, Mr. Havens?” Ben asked.
“I think so,” was the reply.
“That’s good!” answered Ben.
“Why the question?” Mr. Havens asked, with a surprised look.
“Because,” Ben replied, “there’s a lot of Peruvian miners down on a lower shelf of this cone and they’re drunk.”
“Well, they can’t get up here, can they?” asked Mr. Havens.
“They’re making a stab at it!” answered Ben.
“There seems to be a strike or something of that sort on down there,” Glenn explained, “and it looks as if the fellows wanted to get up here and take possession of the aeroplanes.”