"The third ought to take us to that valley town up the river; ain't I right?" asked the anxious Andy.
"Sure. As near as I can make it, Magangue must be not over two hundred miles upstream. With good luck we can cover that in a couple of days," returned Frank.
"But why do you say good luck?" demanded his cousin, suspiciously.
"Oh! well, we are now in the land of tomorrow, you remember," laughed
Frank.
"You mean where they put off everything they can, saying 'no hurry; plenty of time, señors all; the world was not made in a day'? Is that it?" Andy went on.
"Partly. I was also thinking of another thing," admitted Frank.
"Yes, and I bet I can give a mighty good guess what it is, old fellow."
"Perhaps you can," Frank said, a little gravely. "Suppose you spout it out."
"You've been pondering on what old Quito was telling us, in his broken English, about this little revolution that has been slumbering around the region of the Magdalena River of late. You have a hunch that we may just be unlucky enough to run across some of those ragged chaps, who want to upset the present government of Colombia, and seat some old ex-president fossil in the chair again."
"Anyhow, you're a fine guesser, Andy," admitted Frank.