After the meal they bade Dr. Rander an affectionate farewell and stepped into the cabin. Karl started the engine, and then, with a roar and a rush, they started rolling over the field.
The old man waved as they left the ground and headed toward the north. The last the air travelers saw of him he was getting the pack animals ready to finish the journey to Pasaje.
“I suppose we’ve seen the last of him,” remarked Bob, as they left the ground. “We may hear from him later, though. He has our addresses.”
“Rather an odd character, isn’t he?” said Joe. “Seems strange that he’d want to remain in these mountains all his life.”
During the next few hours Karl sent the airplane ahead over mountains that were more rugged than any the youths had ever seen before. He was steering the machine near Mount Panta and the locality in which were Dr. Rust and the other archæologists when suddenly he found himself almost unconsciously entering a heavy cloud.
A second later, when he realized what he had done, the aviator saw that it was too late. Already the ’plane was in the midst of a heavy opaque atmosphere of white.
“I was a nut for getting in a place like this,” Karl said through the telephone. “And there’s no way of getting out now only to go on through it.”
Karl well knew that they were in grave danger of crashing into the side of some lofty peak. They were in a region of tall mountains, and some high summit might easily loom up before them.
For the next few minutes the youths’ hearts were in their mouths. They knew that Karl was an excellent pilot, but they also knew that he could do nothing if sudden tragedy might come upon them.