"Come on, then," said Mr. Andrews, and he led the way to a large wooden shanty a few rods from the station. The building was dignified with the title of a "hotel," and served as a boarding-place for the American overseers of the gangs of men at work in the Culebra cut. Here the three sat down to a generous meal. There was not much style about it, but Mr. Andrews cared little for that, and certainly the boys were not fussy.
Dinner over, the boys were left to their own devices.
"I tell you what let's do," said Vasco. "We'll climb to the top of Culebra Hill this afternoon. We can get a splendid view of the country, and we can certainly get back in time for supper."
"That suits me," said Harlan.
At once they started. From the level of the railway tracks, the climb at first was up the steep and slippery banks that had been made by the steam-shovels. Many times the boys lost their foothold and slid backward, only to renew the struggle and clamber upward once more.
As they got higher up their progress was hindered by the dense undergrowth of shrubs and vines, so that they were obliged to make many a turn and twist in their path. In some places they could not get through the bushes, and had to tramp a long way around to gain a few yards toward the summit.
Finally their perseverance was rewarded, and they stood upon the top of the great hill. Such a scene was spread before them as is seldom witnessed. In the immediate foreground far below them they could see the hundreds of men at work. They looked hardly larger than ants and not half so active. Here also they saw the labourers' camp,—a collection of rude shanties closely huddled together.
Looking farther out, the scene was more attractive. Down through the valleys the rich-looking tropical foliage made a picture no artist could reproduce, and even boyish spirits were subdued as Vasco and Harlan gazed about them. In the distance ridge upon ridge of hills arose, adding grandeur to the magnificent view.