It ends at Sicuani, and there the upper
branch of the Uacayli river begins. This river empties into the
Amazon at the head of steamboat navigation, the maps say."
"You seem to know a lot about this part of South America," gritted
Collins.
"And over to the south," Ned went on, "is Lake Titicaca, and over
the mountains from that body of water is Coroico, where the Beni
river starts on its long run to the Amazon, by way of the Madeira
river."
"Well," snapped Collins, drawing hard at the strap which held his
wrists, "you can't sit here and figure yourself out of this hole.
Why don't you do something?"
"Why, I thought it might be a good plan to wait until dawn," laughed
Ned. "Then I may be able to repair this machine."
"Repair nothing!" stormed Collins. "And in the meantime, I presume
you think you are going to keep me tied up like a calf going to
market?"
"About that way," Ned responded, whereat the captive snorted out his
rage and rolled over on his face and pretended to be asleep.
In a short time dawn shone on the tops of the tallest mountains, and
directly it crept slowly down into the pit where the wrecked
aeroplane lay. By this time Ned had mapped out a course of action.
The aeroplane he had seen in the night had descended not far from
this spot, and he had decided to climb to some convenient height and
look about for it.
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