Steve needed no urging, for before the captain had finished speaking his finger was busy with the key.
“We got you, Phil,” he said. “Thank God you’re still alive. Captain is here and Dick and Tom. They’re wild to be after you. Keep up heart. Tell us as nearly as you can where you are. Give us something to guide us.”
They waited with thumping hearts and bated breath for the answer which came promptly.
“Thank Heaven you heard me, Steve,” it clicked. “Here are the directions as far as I know them. I’m nearly a day’s journey away. When I came to myself after being knocked on the head I saw that the greasers were taking me in a general south by southwest direction. The cave is on a plateau near the top of a mountain. There are two peaks, one of them like a church spire, the other with a rough likeness to a dog’s head. It—”
“I know it,” cried the captain. “It’s the Monte de Cano. I know just where it is. That’s enough.”
Then he checked himself, for the message was continuing:
“It’s impossible to get there tonight, but you might make it tomorrow easily. Hope you recognize it. If you don’t it’s probably all up with me. Answer.”
Scarcely had the clicking stopped then Steve, following the captain’s directions, was sending.
“Captain Bradley talking,” he radioed. “He knows the place. We start at once. Travel the rest of the night, lie low in the day to avoid observation, reach you tomorrow night. Count on us. Be on your toes when the rush comes. Don’t answer. We’re off.”
“Get ready, boys,” said the captain. “We start in half an hour. Report at headquarters at the end of that time. See that your plane is in perfect condition, for there must be very careful reconnoitering on this trip.”