They met with no difficulties on the way down. Apparently the camp of
the revolutionists had been moved from its former position at the
narrows of the river. It might be those in charge had taken the alarm
and feared lest a government force must be on the way to capture them,
after being informed about the camp by the spies they had sent up the
river.
And Barranquila was finally reached, where they halted only long enough
to chat a short time with Senor Jose, who met them as before on the quay
and wanted to shake hands with the professor.
Knowing just how anxious the government was to get possession of
airships just then, Frank did not want to give them any further chance
to confiscate his neat little craft, under some pretense or other. So
they left the city at the mouth of the Magdalena and steamed away, bound
once more for Maracaibo, where they meant to take steamer for New York,
New Orleans or any port in the States.
The last glimpse they had of the river was the flood that was pouring
out between the jaws of land marking one of the mouths of the Magdalena
and making a distinct yellow area in the salty waters of the tropical
ocean.
The beloved little aeroplane had been safely boxed again and was making
the homeward voyage in their company. What strange and wonderful things
it had been through! Andy declared that they almost passed belief, and
he expressed his doubts as to their ever having an opportunity to pilot
that same aircraft through atmospheric seas as tempestuous as those they
had experienced in the tropics while rescuing the prisoner of the cliff
bordered valley.
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