you'll feel better in a short
time."

"But I know which way to go now," Peter insisted.

"Oh, yes, I know. You're goin' to tell which is north by the moss on the
trees. Or you're goin' to tell which way is northeast by the way the
breeze lays the bushes. Or you're goin' to make a compass out of the dial
of your watch. I've read all about it. But we're stuck, just the same, not
knowin' the constellations."

"Stuck--nothing," cried Peter. "Look here. Which way does the Panama canal
run?"

"North and south, across the Isthmus, of course."

"There's where you're wrong! From Gatun to Panama the line of the cut is
more east and west than north and south. Now revise your opinion of the
moon. At this time of night she would be in the southwest."

"That would make a little difference," admitted Jimmie.

"Well, there you are. Take a line running southeast and a couple of chumps
going almost southeast by keeping a southwest object to the right, where
will they land? That's mixed, but I guess you know what it means. Where
would a couple of chumps find the southeast line?"

"About next week at two o'clock," cried Jimmie. "Come on. We'll start
right now, an' get out of the jungle before daylight."

In a few moments after taking a fresh start the boys came to a place where
a small body of water made a clearing in the forest. The little lake, or
swamp, for it was little more than a well-filled marsh, was of course
walled about by trees and climbing vines, but there was a lane to the
southwest which permitted the light of the moon to fall upon the water.

The surface of the pool was well covered with floating plants, and now and
then, as the boys looked through the undergrowth, a squirming thing ducked
under and out of sight. There was something beautiful about the spot, and
yet it was uncanny, too.

"I wish that was all right for a drink," Jimmie observed.

"It is all right for a drink--if you're tired of living," Peter said.
"Say," he added, pointing, "what do you think of that for a creeper, over
there? I'm sure I saw it climbing down off that tree."

Jimmie took one look and started away, drawing Peter with him.

"It's a python!" he exclaimed. "Come on."

"There are no pythons in this country," Peter replied, pulling back and
looking out over the water again.

"It is a boa, then," Jimmie cried. "Come away. It is getting out of the
tree!"

The boys did not move for a moment. They seemed to be fascinated by what