ves prisoners in that way? But here, Frank, look for yourself."

"Where does the letter come from, in the beginning?" asked the other,
quietly, wishing to advance by slow degrees, so that he could understand
everything.

"A town in Columbia, called Barranquila," replied Andy, readily
enough. "I'm not sure, but I think it lies at the mouth of the big
Magdalena River, and is upon the coast. You know I've just devoured the
map of that region for months, and every name is familiar to me."

"Besides this queer communication, which you say is from your father,"
Frank went on, "there seems to be another letter?"

"That is from Senor Jose Almirez. Read it, Frank, and you will begin to
understand."

The letter was in a crabbed hand, apparently unused to writing in
English, though grammatically correct. And this was what Frank saw:

"To Senor Andrew Bird:

"I received the enclosed from a correspondent and customer, one Carlos
Mendoza, located in the vicinity of Manangue, a town about one hundred
and fifty miles up-river.

"He is a grower of cocoa in the rich valley. I do not enclose his
letter, because it is written in Spanish. But it simply says that he
found the written communication close to his plantation house one
morning in April of this year. At first he could not understand how it
came there. Then, upon having the writing translated, he noticed that
the missive was attached to what seemed to be a little parachute, or
balloon, made up of a fragment of silk belonging to a balloon. Knowing
that I had spent several years in Washington, in the service of my
country, he finally concluded to send the same to me. I have the honor
to transmit it to the address given in the communication.

"With respect, and expressing a willingness to help you all I may, Senor
Andrew Bird, believe me to be most sincerely yours,

"Jose Costilena Almirez."

Frank read this amazing communication, and then turned to stare at his
cousin.

"No, don't stop yet!" exclaimed the trembling Andy. "Read the other, the
missive that Carlos Mendoza picked up on his cocoa plantation, in the
valley of the Magdalena River."

And so Frank again turned his attention to the enclosure that had been
sent on by the friendly merchant of Columbia.

It seemed to be a sheet of thin but pliable bark from a tree, and in
some respects reminded Frank of birch bark, which he had often used in
lieu of paper, when in the woods. The juice of some berry had afforded