“That would make a little difference,” admitted Jimmie.
“Well, there you are. Take a line running southeast and a couple of chumps going almost southeast by keeping a southwest object to the right, where will they land? That’s mixed, but I guess you know what it means. Where would a couple of chumps find the southeast line?”
“About next week at two o’clock,” cried Jimmie. “Come on. We’ll start right now, an’ get out of the jungle before daylight.”
In a few moments after taking a fresh start the boys came to a place where a small body of water made a clearing in the forest. The little lake, or swamp, for it was little more than a well-filled marsh, was of course walled about by trees and climbing vines, but there was a lane to the southwest which permitted the light of the moon to fall upon the water.
The surface of the pool was well covered with floating plants, and now and then, as the boys looked through the undergrowth, a squirming thing ducked under and out of sight. There was something beautiful about the spot, and yet it was uncanny, too.
“I wish that was all right for a drink,” Jimmie observed.
“It is all right for a drink—if you’re tired of living,” Peter said. “Say,” he added, pointing, “what do you think of that for a creeper, over there? I’m sure I saw it climbing down off that tree.”
Jimmie took one look and started away, drawing Peter with him.
“It’s a python!” he exclaimed. “Come on.”
“There are no pythons in this country,” Peter replied, pulling back and looking out over the water again.