CHAPTER VII--THE EXPEDITION GETS UNDER WAY

With the coming of the first warm weather, delightful and interesting though their stay at the monastery had proven to be, the boys were eager to get under way upon the last stage of their hunt for the Enchanted City. Don Ernesto and Mr. Hampton, though less enthusiastic on the surface, were no whit less desirous to be moving on than the boys.

Father Felipe, reluctant to part with them, for they had enlivened the placid hours of life in the lonely monastery immeasurably, nevertheless saw that it would be useless any longer to interpose objections to their departure.

"Good weather has arrived," he said, at length, one balmy day. "I know the mountains. There will be no more snow or cold winds. Rain, yes. For on this western slope of the Andes we always have showers and thunderstorms. But snow, no. Spring is definitely here.

"I wish I could dissuade you, my friend," he said to Don Ernesto, in a graver tone than was customary for the jolly Abbot to employ. "I wish, indeed, you could be persuaded to turn aside from this foolish adventure. I have a feeling that grave danger will come to you. My spirits seem depressed."

"Ah, Father Felipe, you have not dined well today," said Don Ernesto, in a sympathetic tone belied by his dancing eyes. "A trace of indigestion, maybe. I, too, often feel depressed for like cause."

"Nay," said Father Felipe, indignantly. "A little fish, coffee--what is there in this to give me indigestion? But you must joke, you crazy man, eager to run up and down mountains and poke your nose into places where white men have never trod. There will be trouble, I tell you, trouble."

And the good Abbot sighed like a miniature earthquake.

Brother Gregorio, also, was reluctant to see the party set out. The boys, all four of them, had endeared themselves to him. Especially was he fond of Frank, in whose quick, responsive mind and sensitive spirit he seemed to sense a kindred strain.

The boys found him at the power plant, pottering around, when they told him of their imminent departure. His face fell, and for a time he could find no words to utter. He had known, of course, that their stay would not be forever. But so long had it lasted during the winter months that it had seemed to him as if matters would continue in _statu quo_ or without change for an indefinite period. Now to be told that they were going to leave within the week was a blow.

At length he walked away from the group, and stood on the brink of the pool into which cascaded the water from the falls, his hands behind him, his back to the group.

"He takes it hard," said Jack. "Frank, he likes you best of all. We'll leave you here with him."

Frank nodded.

"I guess that's a good idea," he said soberly. "Brother Gregorio is a fine fellow, and we understand each other."

As the others departed, they looked back and saw Frank go up to the monk and place an arm over his shoulders. They stood thus for a long time, no words interchanged.

When it came to the point of packing for the journey, there was much that could not be taken along. Brother Gregorio, indeed, would have loaded each man like a pack mule with his gifts of this, that and the other--of clothing, boots, ponchos, prayer books and what not, of medicine cases and packages of herbs and simple remedies. Nor were Father Felipe or the many other monks to whom the various members of the party had endeared themselves, the less behindhand in their offerings.

"We can't take all this stuff," said Jack, in comical dismay, as he stood in their common sitting room, surrounded by bundles, boxes, heaps and bales. "What'll we do with it? Every single thing that I take up, I say to myself, 'Well, this will be absolutely useless, and just in our way. But if we don't take it, we shall break Brother Gregorio's heart or Father Felipe's heart or somebody's else heart.' What are we going to do?"

Mr. Hampton shook his head.

"There are only eight of us, Jack," he said. "And we can't overload ourselves. We have difficult country through which to make our way--country that for a large part is trackless and uncharted. We can afford to take only essentials."

"Yes, but, Dad, Brother Gregorio and the rest of them consider all they have given us as essential."

Don Ernesto laughed.

"Bale up what we can't take, and leave it here against our return," he said. "Let none of the monks see what has been taken and what left behind. Thus no feelings will be hurt."

Jack's face brightened.

"Good idea," he said. "Well, come on fellows. Now this we can't take, and this and this."

For hours they were busy sorting out the useless gifts, and for other hours busy packing them securely and stowing away in the sitting room to await their return.

At length the expedition was ready to start. The mules were packed, Carlos, Pedro and the monks being expert in the art. Besides the necessary food supplies and camping equipment, the luggage contained field radio equipment of various sorts. There was a tube transmitter, several sizes of spark coil, coils of fine wire, and duplications of the standard U. S. Army field radio--several sets of hollow, light steel poles in collapsible sections, a hand-operated quarter-kilowatt generator, headphones and batteries being the main articles.

"With the tube transmitter we can reach you at our base here, Father Felipe, for short distances," said Mr. Hampton. "But for long distance work, the tube transmitter and batteries would not be strong enough. In that case, this little generator will be the thing to employ. You might consider us foolish to take all these duplications of equipment, but they do not weigh much and, we have so distributed all among the mule packs, that even if part become lost, we shall still have others upon which to fall back."

Father Felipe looked about him at the a.s.sembled monks, and smiled.

"If you get into a tight place," he said, "call on us for help. It may seem foolish to offer you the help of men of peace, yet we are no puling men here, but strong, stout fellows all. Even should you be taken prisoners and require stout arms to rescue you, call upon us. There be many here who have soldiered in the past and who could strike a right good blow in a righteous cause, I warrant you."

"I can easily believe that, Father Felipe," answered Mr. Hampton with a smile. "Well, bid us G.o.dspeed, and we shall be on our way."

The Abbot embraced Mr. Hampton, Don Ernesto and the boys unaffectedly.

Brother Gregorio and Frank did likewise. The other monks raised a cheer.

Then there was a period of silence while all knelt with uncovered head, and Father Felipe prayed aloud for the safe return of the expedition.

Not until then did they swing off along a trail up the side of a mountain that would presently vanish upon a bare mountain top, they were a.s.sured, after which they would have to trust to their own energy and resource for getting forward. At a bend in the trail all halted and faced about for a last look at the monastery.

"It makes me feel as if I were living in mediaeval times," said Frank.

"The stout Abbot and his jolly monks, us setting off afoot with a mule train, the prayer delivered over us as we start. Boy, this is the way to live."

Jack reached over to clasp his chum's hand strongly, and Mr. Hampton regarded the two with a little smile of sympathy.

"I feel the same way, boys," he said. "This is something I've always wanted to do. Yes, it is good to be alive and starting out on an adventure of which no man can guess the end."

"Just a boy, you are, my friend," said Don Ernesto, jestingly. "But I, too. I, too. Come, let us get forward."

CHAPTER VIII--JACK HAS A MISHAP

Of that trip during the ensuing days there is little of moment to record. Sometimes they advanced less than five miles a day. Sometimes, where the going was easy, through a valley leading in their general direction, perchance, where there was little underbrush and the benchland along the stream gave firm footing, the distance travelled was considerably more.

But, whether the going was easy or hard, whether few miles were covered or many, there was not a foot of it all that was not intensely interesting to the boys, and not only to the three New York lads, but to Ferdinand as well.

Steadily they mounted higher into the mountains, skirting precipices of which sometimes the bottom could not be seen. On one occasion, as they made camp at night upon a lofty meadow against the shoulder of a mountain on one side, and with a precipitous drop on the other, they looked over the edge into the abyss and drew back frightened.

"Why, you can't even see the bottom," exclaimed Jack. "It's hidden by the clouds."

Which was true; for five hundred feet below lay a fleecy stratum of cloud, through which on the edges projected the tops of trees, but which in the middle was as unbroken as a placid sea. Across the valley the sun was setting in the west, its rays red as blood upon the side of the mountain behind them and upon their faces. Then the sun seemed quite suddenly to slip below the mountain top, the sky became colder in appearance, and a chill wind swept down out of the mountains, while the cloud sea below began to stir and toss a little under the wind's fretting.

"By Jiminy," said big Bob, "I'll bet it's so deep down there, if I toss this stone overboard you'll never hear it fall."

He suited action to word. The stone ripped through the clouds and the boys held their breath to listen. Not a sound came back to them.

"Whew," shivered Frank. "Come on, let's get away from the precipice before some demon pushes us in. Up here I begin to believe in demons and warlocks, kobolds and gnomes."