“Yes,” said Briscoe, laughing. “Why, Brace, we might be getting out somewhere or other in the Pacific Ocean.”
“What about crossing the Andes first?” said Brace sharply.
“Oh, that would be all right. I daresay we could keep on rising till we found a way through-place where the watershed runs, as the learned chaps say.”
He had hardly spoken before Brace caught him by the arm, gripping it strongly.
“What is it—bird?”
“No,” said Brace, in a hoarse whisper. “I caught sight of a canoe gliding along under the rocks on the farther shore.”
“Did you?” said Briscoe coolly. “Well, I’m not surprised. The Indians would be fools if some of them didn’t come and live along here. It’s about the most beautiful place I ever saw.”
“I can see it now,” said Sir Humphrey, looking through his glass. “There are four Indians in it with feather crowns on their heads. I don’t think they have seen us till now, for they are paddling the other way.”
“Then I tell you what: let’s lie-to under the trees here,” said the captain. “There’s a level bit about fifty feet up like a shelf in yon bit of a gully. I had my eye upon that directly, and down here we can lie up quite snugly. Let’s have a quiet night somehow, and go on to-morrow morning to see whether the Indians mean to be friends or foes. See ’em still, Sir Humphrey?”
“No,” was the reply; “they have gone right out of sight.”