“But where do you suppose they came from right now, Frank?”

“That would be hard to tell,” Frank replied.  “The first you saw of them they were sailing up over yonder.  Then the chances are they have quartered themselves at some town, perhaps on the river, and that this is just their first flight—­a sort of look over the country.”

“Yes,” said Andy, “they’re circling right now as though they mean to head back again.”

“Well, you can’t blame them much,” Frank ventured, watching the actions of the aviators above with keenest interest.  “Night isn’t so very far away, and I should think a fellow would hardly feel like being caught out after dark down here in an airship.”

“Well, hardly,” Andy smiled.  “Curfew must ring for us every time.  Fancy dropping plump in the middle of such a jumble of forest as that is yonder, and I bet you it’s just cram full of snakes, jaguars and everything else that would want to snuggle up to a poor birdboy dropped out of the clouds.  Me for daylight when I go sailing down in this blessed region.”

“Look, the men are beginning to recover from their fright,” remarked Frank in low tones.  “There’s old Quito sitting up now and commencing his everlasting jabbering with the others.  See him point to the biplane and then to us, Andy.”

“Say, the sharp old coon is getting a pointer on us.  He’s telling his chums right now that the thing we’ve got stored away in the lazerette is just such a big bird as that going away over yonder.  Am I right, Frank?”

“You never said a truer thing.  But they were certainly a badly rattled crowd for a time.  And we can hardly blame the poor fellows, for what could they think but that it was a tremendous bird of prey, looking them over with an eye to grub?”

Frank laughed a little as though the recollection of the fright of the crew would always seem more or less ludicrous.

They sat there and watched until the mysterious biplane had completely disappeared in the hazy distance that marked the coming of evening.

“You don’t think then,” asked Andy, when it had vanished from view, “that Puss and his biplane could have fallen into the hands of the Colombia authorities and that they’re using it for scouting to learn the movements of these ragged revolutionists?”

“No, I don’t,” was Frank’s quick response.  “You said you could positively make out Puss at the wheel, and I’m almost sure it was Sandy with him.  They must have slipped into the country without giving their secret away.  Trust sly Puss for knowing how to do that sort of thing.  He never goes around with a brass band, telling what big things he has on tap.”

“That’s right.  Why, just think, not a soul knew about his old biplane until he had it about done.  We were working in the open almost, telling much of our plans, but Puss pretended to be mighty envious and asked questions, when all the time he was meaning to beat us out.  Of course, he could get into Colombia without giving his secret away.  You don’t need to tell me, Frank, you’re surprised at that.”