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[Illustration: _The Andes looked dark and forbidding._]
SECRETS OF THE ANDES
by
JAMES FOSTER
The Saalfield Publishing Company
Akron, Ohio New York
Copyright, MCMXXXIII
The Saalfield Publishing Company
Printed in the United States of America
* * * * * *
THE EXPLORATION SERIES
BY JAMES FOSTER
CAPTURED BY THE ARABS
LOST IN THE WILDS OF BRAZIL
SECRETS OF THE ANDES
THE FOREST OF MYSTERY
* * * * * *
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Stranded 1
II The Aimless Wanderer 9
III Helplessly Trapped 17
IV The Surly Trainman 28
V As Guests of the Naturalist 37
VI The Big Surprise 42
VII Off for the Andes 48
VIII Caught in the Storm 62
IX A Fearful Discovery 69
X Train Robbers! 75
XI Chubby the Eater 82
XII The Pangs of _Soroche_ 93
XIII A Happy Reunion 101
XIV An Unexpected Displeasure 109
XV Attacked by Indians 118
XVI Just in Time 126
XVII The Old Man's Tale 133
XVIII Starting Into the Mountains 140
XIX A Terrible Sight 148
XX Difficulties of the Trail 158
XXI Danger at Hand 169
XXII The Deadly Snake 180
XXIII Descending Rapidly 186
XXIV The Big Secret 199
XXV Another Hidden Wonder 207
XXVI A Narrow Escape 214
XXVII Fighting Desperately 222
XXVIII Almost a Tragedy 230
XXIX The Horrible Beast 239
CHAPTER I
Stranded
"Look! The bridge is out! Stop the car--quick!" Bob Holton's voice was
unsteady as he gazed ahead at the place of danger.
Acting on the instant, Joe Lewis pushed the brake pedal to the floor
and waited breathlessly, his mind filled with thoughts of tragedy.
The wheels of the small automobile locked, but the momentum carried
the car on at a sickening pace. Despite the fact that the tires were
new, they slipped over the road easily.
An instant later the youths saw that the distance between themselves
and the washout was not great enough. In but a few seconds they would
be plunging down the embankment into the swollen river.
There was not a moment to lose. Opening the doors as rapidly as
possible, the chums jumped from the car and rolled over on the ground,
their faces wet with perspiration.
And they were none too soon. The car sped on, reached the edge of the
river bank, and then plunged out of sight.
There was a loud splash as it struck the water, and then all was
quiet. The sun continued on its downward path, the faint wind played
through the trees. Nothing but two lone boys were left to tell of the
misfortune.
"Well," sighed Joe, at last breaking the silence, "we sure had a tough
break, didn't we?"
"Lucky to get off with our lives, though," Bob reminded him. "That was
about the closest shave I've ever had. Wonder why the highway
commission didn't put out a sign?"
"Probably didn't know the bridge was out. Not many cars go over this
road, and it would not be exceptional for this to go unnoticed for
quite a while."
"We'll sure make a report of it," said Bob, getting to his feet and
brushing off his mud-stained trousers.
Joe laughed unwillingly.
"That'll be like locking the barn after the horse has been stolen," he
grunted. "Come on," he went on, "let's go over to the river bank and
see if we can catch a glimpse of the coupé."
The youths walked over and stared into the swiftly moving water. It
had rained in torrents two days before, and the river was now almost
a rapids.
"Car's nowhere in sight," said Joe Lewis gloomily. "But"--his face
lighting suddenly--"it's insured. So I guess there's no use worrying."
"Maybe not about the automobile. But how are we going to get back to
Washington?"
"We'll have to hike to the main highway, I guess," Joe answered. "It's
about five miles away, too."
The youths were returning to their homes in Washington, D. C., after
having spent a delightful week-end in Virginia. Their accident came
upon them in a rather out-of-the-way spot, a great number of miles
from the city of their destination.
"If it hadn't been for that hill," remarked Joe, as he and his friend
walked back up the road, "we would have seen this place in time to
stop the car."
"The hill is here, though," returned Bob with a grim smile. "So that's
that."
The boys paused a moment at the spot where they had jumped from the
doomed automobile. With one last look at the washout, they turned and
began climbing the grade.
"Five miles is a good distance to walk," grunted Joe, "especially when
we want to get home before long."
"That last you said made the first all right," laughed Bob Holton,
"because on the Sahara and in Brazil we often hiked, not five miles,
but several times that far without stopping."
The friends were refreshed after the idle weekend trip and worked
their legs like pistons. Despite their serious predicament, they
observed the wonders of autumn with the eye of a nature lover.
Leaves of yellow and brown were lying about the ground in profusion,
while others on the trees were almost ready to fall. There was a cool
afternoon breeze that gave evidence of winter being not far off.
"Think there's a chance of getting a ride with somebody?" asked Joe,
as the youths followed the curving road.
Bob shook his head.
"Fellows in this part of the country are pretty careful about picking
up strangers," he returned. "Too many stick-ups and robberies. Still
we might see some soft-hearted person who would not be afraid to take
a chance with us."
"The question is, though," began Joe, "will we get in with somebody
before night? It's three o'clock now, and we may have to do a great
deal of thumbing before anybody will stop and let us in."
The road wound through a rather isolated section, with only an
occasional farmhouse looming up from behind the trees. It was indeed
a poor place to be stranded.
The sun was well down to the horizon when the youths finally reached
the through highway. Although they had done their best, they had found
it difficult to avoid the many large mud puddles that often reached
nearly across the road.
"Now to get down to business," said Bob, gazing far down the highway.
"We'll surely find a car before long that will pick us up."
"Here comes one now," observed Joe. "It'll be here before long. Come
on, let's get out farther."
The boys waited for the automobile to come nearer. Then they signaled
the driver. But the latter appeared to pay no attention to the young
men. A moment later the car whizzed on up the road.
Bob and Joe looked at each other. Their faces clearly showed that they
expected the worst.
"Could hardly blame him, though," remarked Bob. "So many
innocent-faced crooks walk the highways that it's unsafe to pick up
anyone."
"But you know the old proverb," grinned the other youth. "'If at first
you don't succeed, try, try again.' According to that, we---- Look!
Here comes another car. Maybe we'll have better luck this time."
Again the chums signaled, and were delighted to see that the car was
coming to a stop. At a motion from the driver, who was the only
occupant, they climbed inside.
"How far ye goin'?" the stranger asked. He was a short, fat man who
looked capable of great mirth.
"To Washington," replied Bob. "We had an accident with our car not far
from here."
"Accident, hey? Not hurt, I hope?"
"No. We were able to jump out in time. You see, we came unexpectedly
on a spot where the bridge was washed away. Caused by the recent rain,
no doubt."
"Oh. Tough luck, wasn't it? And the machine--was it insured?"
"Luckily it was," replied Joe with a chuckle. "Though we may have
trouble in proving it."
"Fight it to the finish!" said the man, shifting his cud of tobacco to
the other side of his mouth. "If you have to, take it to court."
"I hardly think that will be necessary," Joe said with a smile. "The
insurance company bears a good name."
"Wonder if this guy's Scotch?" mused Bob to himself. Only recently the
youth had read a good joke about a man of that nationality.
For the next half-hour the three carried on a varied conversation. It
was at last broken as they neared a small town.
They had almost entered the city limits when a slowly moving freight
train halted them. Reluctantly they settled back and waited.
"This will mean a big loss of time," remarked Joe, as he gazed far
down the track at the seemingly endless string of cars. "I'm anxious
to----"
"Listen!" commanded Bob, leaning forward wonderingly. "Did you hear
anything? There it is again."
"It's a muffled cry for help, coming from one of those freight cars."
Joe had opened the door of the sedan.
With a parting word for the driver, the youths left the automobile and
ran down the track, straining their ears for a repetition of the cry.
"There it is again!" declared Joe. "Sounds like a young boy. In that
third freight car up there."
Summoning all their strength, the youths ran on until they were
opposite the box car. It was easy to keep abreast with the train,
moving as slowly as it was.
The door was pushed back about three feet, leaving barely enough room
for the youths to clamber up into the car. Their efforts were not in
vain, however, and soon they found themselves inside.
"Where are you?" called Joe, glancing about at the scores of boxes and
barrels.
"Here!" a faint reply came from a far corner.
At once the youths turned in that direction, searching for a
passageway between the many objects that filled the car. At last they
were within a few feet of the corner. But it was not possible to
penetrate farther, for a large pile of heavy crates barred the way.
"Let's get these to one side," said Bob, and for the next few minutes
the young men worked furiously.
Finally they made an opening sufficient for them to pass through.
"Now we'll see who's here," muttered Joe Lewis.
The youths worked their way through the passage, their eyes trying to
pierce the darkness.
Suddenly they drew back with a cry of surprise.