“What a difference from our last start,” observed Andy, with satisfaction, for they were on an elevation with a valley far below, and the air was decidedly bracing for the tropics.

“I should say it was,” laughed Frank.  “Do you know what it puts me in mind of?”

“I bet you’re just thinking of when we won that race to the summit of Old Thunder Top, where nobody had ever been able to climb before, and how we had to make our start for home from that little plateau, plunging off into space.”

“Just what I was,” declared Frank.  “But here we have a longer swing and it’s going to be a snap of a launch compared with some we remember.”

“Ugh!” grunted Andy, “will I ever forget the one this morning.  But let loose, my boy.  I had just sighted a likely looking place away over yonder, at the time you said we ought to take advantage of this fine landing stage, to look things over.  Just head her that way when we get going, will you?”

“Sure; anything to oblige,” assented the other.

The launch was just as easy as they had anticipated.  Indeed, Frank seemed to have gotten this part of the programme down to a fine point and could accomplish it apparently as well as a Wright or a Curtiss.

Ten minutes later and the monoplane was soaring toward the region which Andy had denominated as a “likely spot.”

“Look at that big bird watching us from that pinnacle yonder!” exclaimed Andy, as he lowered the glasses for a moment.

“I see him,” replied his comrade.  “And there’s no doubt now but what that is a condor of the Andes.  He thinks we must be some sort of bird, which we are, of course, and is wondering whether he ought to flap his wings and go up higher or hide behind that church steeple of rock.”

“I only hope he don’t take a measly notion to fight us, that’s all,” remarked the other, as he glanced anxiously toward where the Marlin was secured to the framework of the airship.

“No danger of that,” Frank continued.  “A condor is like our vulture or buzzard, a scavenger; and he lacks the bravery of the bald-headed eagle that attacked us when we came near his nest on the tip of Old Thunder Top.  Look there, he’s off, Andy, and at a good lively clip, too.  Good-bye, old chap, and good luck!”

Andy had lost all interest in the great bird of the western Andes.  He was focusing his attention upon the place that he had marked as a likely spot.

“Frank,” he said, presently, in a husky voice, “could you drop a little lower and slow down some?”

“That’s easy,” replied his chum, readily enough.  “What has struck you now, Andy?”

“It looks more and more promising to me,” came the slow reply, as Andy kept the glasses up to his eyes.

“Then you can glimpse something like cliffs?” asked Frank.

“Yes, and there’s no doubt about that part.  I’m waiting now to see if the wide valley is wholly enclosed!”