Then there
were the patches of tropical vegetation, the fruit trees and the cocoa
plantations--all those interesting things which neither of them had ever
set eyes on before.
Senor Mendoza had told them how the coffee was grown upon a certain part
of the mountain slopes, since it did not do well in the valleys,
preferring a higher altitude.
They followed the course of the river generally, intending to cover
possibly something like eighty or ninety miles before trying to comb the
land from side to side, in the endeavor to find the strange cliff
enclosed valley.
From time to time Andy would call the attention of his aeroplane chum to
some striking feature of the landscape far below. The little Kinkaid
motor was humming merrily, without ever missing a stroke, and Frank,
having the utmost confidence in its steadiness now, after so many trial
spins, could take a few seconds at a time to observe these things.
"When we've gone something close on an hundred miles direct," remarked
the pilot of the craft, presently, "I think we'd better make a descent,
if given the chance."
"You spoke of that before," remarked his companion, anxiously. "What is
the reason for doing it, Frank?"
"Oh, nothing serious," replied the other. "We will then be at the
parting of the ways, you know."
"You mean we'll be about to leave the river that will have been our
guide up to then?" asked Andy.
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