During the two weeks which followed, the elder Austins, under the able tutelage of Mr. Kramer, and the additional assistance of their sons, became remarkably proficient in flying the ranch plane, also, the Sky Buddies became thoroughly acquainted with the “Lark,” which was the name of their own super-machine. Then the salesman removed himself to Crofton, where his firm had a new plane waiting for him and he expected to demonstrate it for prospective purchasers. Already the sheriff was watching its performance with keen interest and it looked as if that worthy might become the possessor of one of the birds. Although the boys spent a good deal of time in the air, neither of them neglected his studies with Don Haurea, and Caldwell could hardly wait until spring came in order to put some of his information into practice. One afternoon, Mr. Austin came out of his office with a letter which had come in the morning’s mail.

“Oh, Jim.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy hurried to learn what was wanted, and presently they were seated at the big desk.

“I may go to South America,” the man announced thoughtfully.

“Golly, what a trip that will be, Dad,” the boy exclaimed. “Be gone long, sir?”

“I do not know. It’s a matter of business and I was rather hoping that my part of it could be transacted from here, but I have received a confidential letter in which one of my associates urges me to come personally and look after my interests,” he answered thoughtfully.

“Taking Mom?”

“I do not believe I had better. I have no idea the sort of places I shall be compelled to visit and I do not want to take her where she may not be comfortable. There is always a risk. If it were earlier in the winter, I should not hesitate, but it is a long trip, will take weeks, and while I can rely upon my men to look after things here, I do not see how I can get back before very late spring,” he said, as if he were thinking the matter over instead of discussing it.

“Why don’t you go by airplane?” the boy asked. “Goodness, Dad, no sense in wasting weeks.”

“Humph. That is a good suggestion, but I do not know that the air service will help me. Although, come to think of it, I read recently that they are running trips to the southern part of Chile—perhaps I can get some information on the—”

“I say, Dad, what’s the matter with you? We have two planes right here on the ranch. Furthermore, you can fly yours—”

“After a fashion. I should not think of attempting anything so—”

“No, of course not. I was just thinking that you could help out some of the time. You aren’t like a tenderfoot in the air. We’ll take you in the “Lark”—and it will be a grand lark—”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” his father hesitated.

“Didn’t we go traipsing all over the United States and Canada?”

“You did, and got into all sort of things,” Mr. Austin chuckled. “This would have to be a very serious trip, few stop-overs, and return home just as soon as I conclude my business. I don’t know about taking you away from your studies.”

“We can take a couple of books along with the luggage. Now, Dad, don’t be a kill joy. This business deal is important, isn’t it?”

“Very important to all of us,” the man admitted.

“All right, then, let’s all of us get at it as fast as we can. Nothing can beat the “Lark”, and with two pilots—why Dad, Henry Ford hasn’t a thing on you,” the boy urged.

“I guess I’d better talk the matter over with Mother.”

Such a project could not be undertaken without very serious consideration and preparation. When the idea was presented to Mrs. Austin, she, too, hesitated about letting the Flying Buddies pilot such a trip, but she did understand the importance of her husband’s arriving at Cuzco in Peru just as quickly as possible, and that the shortest time by boat was eighteen days. Usually it took longer; depending upon the weather conditions. Added to that must be the time necessary to get to the nearest port, securing reservations at a season of the year when ships sailing to southern points were booked up full before leaving the north. By airplane it would take at least two weeks less, which was a big item. Bob added his voice to the plea that he and Jim be permitted to go.

“Goodness, Mother, didn’t we go all over the country, find our way and come back without so much as a broken wire?”

“Yes, you did, but you got into so many adventures. Of course you didn’t have anything serious happen to you, but you were in your own country, or Canada, which is almost the same, and you did not have to travel over long stretches of water,” she persisted.

“It’s just as safe over water as land, Mom. We’d stop at some port to be sure that everything was ship-shape before we started to cross, and it can be made in several hops, not all at a clip, as Lindbergh did. His mother didn’t object, so you be a good sport, please.”

“His mother must have had some awful hours. I’m sure that every minute of them seemed like a life time,” she sighed in sympathy.

“Perhaps they did, but we’ll be just as cautious as Lindy was. We’ll have everything in proper order, and take good care to keep it that way,” Bob assured her. “Besides, if Dad can get there ahead of time, and those fellows are planning to put something over on him, we’ll get him there early and he can give them the laugh. Then, we’ll be home in time to start things this spring.”

“It won’t be like when we went alone,” Jim added. “Dad will be along and he will see that we do not go butting into any mischief.”

“Well—” She looked at her husband. “What do you think about it?”

“The more I think about it the more it appeals to me, my dear, but I do not want to influence you unduly. As Jim says, I shall be along, it’s a business trip, no sky-larking adventure, and I rather feel that our Flying Buddies will be thoroughly reliable. They must both realize that it is a serious undertaking—”

“Sure, Dad, we do; we aren’t kids any more, we’re grown up—” The two real grown-ups smiled at this, and although they did not dispute the argument, neither of them could agree that seventeen and sixteen were exactly mature.

“Well, probably—since we have planes and pilots it is wisdom to make use of them and not delay needlessly,” Mrs. Austin finally announced.

“Atta girl!” Bob shouted. He picked her up in his arms and swung her off the floor just to prove how big he really was.

“Robert!” His mother protested, so he sat her down again.

“Gosh, Mom, you haven’t called me that since I put the cat in the frying pan,” he grinned.

“Did it jump into the fire?” Jim drawled.

“It did, and after Mom got through with me, I felt as if I had been sitting in it. Wow, she did wave a wicked palm! It makes me warm to think of it,” he laughed.

“Dismiss such unpleasant memories. Come on, I’m going to the Bar-Z. Probably Don Haurea can give me some valuable information about air-currents and other jams.” “Flap along by yourself, Old Timer. I’m going to the Cross-Bar to look at my new hotbeds. I want to be sure I have them in order to leave, and I’ll get one of the boys to look after them.”

“Shall I take you along in the “Lark”?”

“No, thanks. Dad isn’t using the freighter, so I’ll take that, and carry some pots back,” Bob answered. The “Freighter” was the name the Flying Buddies had named the ranch plane.

“I think it isn’t very respectful to call the plane Dad and I use a freighter—are we the freight?” his mother demanded with assumed indignation.

“Nope,” he answered quickly, “but she’s a slow-boat compared to the “Lark”, Mom, and before we leave, I’ll clean her up spick and span for you.”

A bit later the two boys took off from the open corral, and the difference in the two machines was immediately evident. The “Lark” rose, like the bird from which her name was borrowed, while the other plane went into the air at a more gradual ascent, and by the time Bob had reached sufficient altitude to set his course, Jim was becoming a speck in the distance. It did not take him long to reach Don Haurea’s and leaving the bus with one of the men. He proceeded to the laboratory where he knew he would find the Don busy at work.

“Good afternoon, my boy, something I can do for you?”

“I expect you can, sir. Fact is, Dad has to go to Peru, place in the southern part called Cuzco—”

“Cuzco?”

“Yes sir, do you know it?”

“Rather.”

“Well, we persuaded him, Buddy and I did, to let us take him in the “Lark”, and I thought I’d ask you about—well, the best route, and the sort of air we are likely to hit, or get hit by.”

“How do you expect to go?”

“Haven’t had time to consider it much, but I thought of going to Southern California and down that way, or shooting across Mexico,” Jim told him. The Don pressed a button and one of the men appeared.

“Bring me the atlas, if you please.” Presently an enormous book, its pages of fine quality paper, and the cover of light wood, which held the sheets together with clamps, was opened before them. The maps were the best the boy had ever seen and as he examined them he saw that land, water and air were all carefully charted so one could tell the depths of the sea, the proprieties of its surface, whether it was rugged or comparatively smooth, the direction of tides and under-water streams, also the force of the various winds and their usual course. Each section of the world was recorded in the most complete detail, and air currents marked clearly.

“Golly, what a set of maps,” he exclaimed in wonder.

“They are exceptionally fine and were compiled after years of the most careful study. Now, let me see, going directly across Mexico would seem like the better course, but I advise you to go to Miami, over the Keys, to Havana, to Belize in British Honduras (you’ll have no trouble finding people with whom you can talk), then to Panama, across and down the coast line to Lima. Cuzco is inland.”

“That sounds like a good route.” Jim examined the map carefully. “It gives us plenty of places to come down.”

“Yes. A part of the way the N. Y. R. B. A. air lines have mail and passenger service.”

“That’s the New York, Rio and Buenos Aires line!”

“Yes. I’ll have one of the boys make you an itinerary so that you can be over the water during the daytime unless you get in too big a hurry. May I ask why you are going?”

“Dad and some friends of his are interested in a project down there with some other business associates. One of his friends wrote confidentially that my father better be on the ground. He’s making quite an investment,” Jim explained.

“I see. I take it you expect to go and return as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, this route will really be the better one, and with two pilots you can stay in the air as long as you like. I have been in Peru, and don’t forget to take light clothing. It is very hot, unless you get back into the mountains. Cuzco is two hundred miles from Lima and is more temperate than places west of the Andes.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, you better leave the “Lark” here until you are ready to start. Our men will put her in order for you, and I’ll see that she has one or two extra conveniences. She is built to withstand acids—”

“Oh, we don’t expect to get into any trouble,” Jim laughed.

“Of course not, but if your father is planning to give his associates, some of them, a surprise, you want to be prepared. Men of this age are frequently particularly vicious if their financial plans are threatened. This is something you want to remember, and so, do not take any chances.” The Don spoke so earnestly that Jim was sobered.

“It’s kind of a wild country down there isn’t it?”

“Parts of it, certainly.”

“Not very thickly settled.”

“It isn’t always the isolated spots where the greatest evil is committed. Be on your guard all of the time. I do not mean for you to be stupidly fearful, but be precautious.”

“I understand. Thank you, Don Haurea, and you bet I’ll be glad to have all the trimmings that the “Lark” will carry.”

“All right. You might study these maps while you are here, and later I’ll send Zargo home with you, unless you will dine with me. I have not had young company for some weeks.”

“I’ll be glad to stay, but jinks, I’m in working clothes.”

“Never mind that. Is the plane here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll have the boys set to work on her at once. When do you expect to leave?”

“Not for a couple of days anyway. I know that Dad can’t start before that.”

“Fine. Now, I’ll get back to my observations.”

“I thought I could take some lessons with me,” Jim remarked.

“We’ll have some prepared.”

Jim bent over the maps, made a memorandum of the route the Don had suggested, a rough sketch on which he marked various items of importance, and when the man came to tell him it was time to go to dinner, the boy could hardly believe it. Half an hour later they were seated in the cheery living room, and the meal was being served. Through the first course they discussed this and that, then suddenly Jim remembered that Don Haurea had said he had been in Peru.

“It must be an interesting country, down there, sir. Did you like it when you were in Peru?”

“Very much indeed.”

“We studied its history in school, and I read some extra books about the Conquistadores. Most of the writers soft peddled the old duffers, but I got a hunch they were a pretty hot lot. Pizzaro and his brothers—they were half brothers. Only one of them got back to Spain, and he spent twenty years in prison. The Marquis Francisco was assassinated, one brother was killed by the Indians, and the other was hanged. Rather a come-down from being chief moguls, but I wasn’t a bit sorry for them, they were a—” Jim saw Don Haurea’s face flush and was filled with dismay lest he had said something personal.

“South America, particularly Peru, has stood for hundreds of years as a monument to those men, whose ignorance, cruelty and avarice caused them to commit crimes which constitute one of the greatest blots in the history of the world,” the Don said. His eyes rested on his plate, then he looked up with his usual pleasant smile. “No doubt you have guessed that my regard for the ‘Marquis’ as they called him, his brothers and also partner, Almagro, is not very high. They were all low born men, except Hernando Pizzaro, who was the legitimate son of his father, and as you say, the only one to return to Spain alive. It must have been galling to him to return to his native land and be treated as a criminal; he had sailed away as a great hero, had known the riches of kings, but he died in comparative poverty.”

“He had it coming to him,” Jim declared. He was no end relieved that he had not embarrassed his host, and he did wonder a bit why Don Haurea, who was usually so perfectly calm and self possessed, should feel so deeply about the fate of Peru and her neighbors. “I thought it was too bad Spain didn’t take a tumble to herself sooner, she might have saved something from the wreck.”

“She might have.” “Buddy and I were talking about those countries, those old ones. Spain had all South America, Central America, Mexico, part of the United States, Portugal, and goodness knows what else, and now she’s one of the least significant countries in the world, almost. Alfonso, he’s not half bad and of course he can’t help what his predecessors did, but I should think it would make him want to bite nails when he thinks, if he dares to, what his country might have done in all these years.”

“Probably the history of his heritage does not constitute his happiest reading,” the Don answered.

“Some of those chaps had brains enough to see that the system was a blamed poor one, but they couldn’t do much until the worst was over.”

“A few of the men who went or were sent out were the finest of their time, or any time. They were keen enough to see that their country must lose instead of gain by the ruthless oppression of a race which was intellectually superior to their own. The destruction of public works as great as any in Spain, and the wrecking of a government under which men lived more happily than any country before or since; could only react like a boomerang against them. At the time the Pizarros invaded Peru, there was no poverty among the people of the Yncas; there hadn’t been a beggar in the land in hundreds of years; every man, woman and child was trained as few were trained in the old world. There were no rats, comparatively little disease, the travelers on the great roads were guests at the depots—inns—the Spaniards called them, and there was no oppression. The poor were cared for; everyone, from the greatest to the least, worked, did his share and had plenty. They worshipped the Sun—it was their God—and they had ceremonies in their beautiful temples—but the conquerors called them heathen, destroyed the wonderful works of art—destroyed them so effectively that the world still wonders how the work was done. The great buildings were razed, the gold ripped off. One man’s share was a huge gold sun, several feet in diameter, of the purest quality, and he lost it with a throw of the dice.” “Jinks, I never read that,” Jim gasped. “Wow.”

“It is quite true. The gold and silver workers had made marvelous vases, all sorts of pieces of service and statuary. When you are in Cuzco you can see the remains of a temple. How the stones were brought to that spot, put together, and worked, still is one of the world’s mysteries. Depots were built in every province; a whole army on the march could be supplied at a moment’s notice, and if disaster over-took one section of the land, it could be re-supplied very quickly from another. Runners traveled the road from one end to the other, men who were swift of foot, and news was passed back and forth in an incredibly short time.”

“It must have been lovely. I read somewhere that the roads were much more marvelous than the ones built by the early Romans,” Jim said.

“They were. They went over desert and Mountains, were wide and smooth, with beautiful shade trees and seats. The land was irrigated by a system which is still a mystery. In years, ten or fifteen millions of people were butchered without rhyme or reason, vast flocks of llamas were almost wiped off the face of the earth, the highways were hacked to pieces, and the guide posts set across the deserts were burned for firewood.”

“The Ynca gave them a room full of gold as a ransom.”

“And they strangled him in spite of their promise to set him free. He was not a particularly good man, but he was better than his captors. During the weeks of his captivity he learned Spanish. He could read, write and speak it, could play chess well, and cards. Several men who surrounded him realized that he had a fine mind. A few like Ferdinand De Soto, were greatly opposed to his death, but they were sent off to another part of the country, and while they were gone charges were trumped up against the Ynca. They killed him because they were afraid. Had those men gone to the land, expressed a desire to trade with the Ynca’s people, sent Christian missionaries if they wanted to, they would have been kindly received, welcomed, and the Spaniards could have made themselves richer than their wildest dreams. The world in general would have been better and Spain might now be a great country instead of a backward, poverty-stricken one. When you are in Cuzco you will see Lake Titicaca, one of the highest in the world. It is about half as big as Lake Champlain and very beautiful. I am sure that you will enjoy seeing the country; the Andes are marvelous.”

“They must be. But, jinks, I guess I’ll feel a bit as you do, Don Haurea. It was a rotten shame those people got such a raw deal,” the boy said earnestly.

“Don’t let what I have told you prejudice you or spoil your trip. Remember, the whole land is free now, and it was through the leadership of some of the descendants of the Yncas that the different sections managed, one by one, to shake off the yoke. You’ll have a marvelous experience, and remember that when you are flying safe and high, those sixteenth century men traveled horseback or on foot through leagues of unbroken forests.”

“I will,” Jim promised.