er
died. Elza was fast asleep, but the sudden quiet brought Georg and me to
alertness. We joined Argo in the pit. He was perturbed, and cursing. We
dropped, gliding down, for there was no need of picking a landing with
the emergency heliocopter batteries--glided down to the calm surface.
For a moment we lay there, rocking--a dark blob on the water. I heard a
sudden sharp swish. An under-surface freight vessel, plowing from
Venezuelan ports to the West Indian Islands, came suddenly to the
surface. Its headlight flashed on, but missed us. It sped past. I could
see the sleek black outline of its wet back, and the lines of foam as it
sheered the water. We lay rocking in its wake as it disappeared
northward.

Then, without warning, our power came on again. An inadvertent break
perhaps; or maybe some local or general orders. We did not know. Argo
was picking from the air occasional news, but he said nothing of it to
us; and he was sending out nothing, of course.

Dawn found us over the mountains. The Director at Caracas challenged us.
Argo kept me by his side constantly now. Dutifully we answered every
call. The local morning traffic was beginning to pick up; but we mingled
with it, at 8,000 feet and more, to clear the mountains comfortably.

Elza again cooked and, with Argo joining us, we had breakfast. Argo's
good nature continued, as we successfully approached the end of our
flight. But still he volunteered nothing to us. We asked him no
questions. Elza was grave-faced, solemn. But she did not bother Georg
and me with woman's fears. Bravely she kept her own counsel, anxious
only to be of help to us.

We passed over the Venezuelan Province, over the mountains and into
Amazonia, headwaters of the great river--still on the 67th Meridian
West. The jungles here were sparsely settled; there were, I knew, no
more than a dozen standard cities of a million population, or over, in
the whole region of Western Brazilana. As we advanced, I noticed an
unusual number of the armed government flyers above us. Many were
hovering, almost motionless, as though waiting for orders. But none of
them molested us.

Near the 10th parallel South latitude, we passed under a fleet of the
white official vessels, with a division of the Brazilana patrol joined
with them. A hundred vessels hovering up there in an east and west
line--a line a hundred miles long it must have been.

Hovering there, for what? We did not know; but Argo, leering up at th