Andy grinned.
“Why do you think we’re going to Iquitos?” Abigail asked. “What’s waiting for us in Peru?”
“We’ve arranged to meet Cedric there,” Dotty explained. “And since the Jungle Explorers’ Society has one of its main office headquarters in Cuzco, I assume we’ll be in touch with Ned Lostmore once we arrive to find out more about our mission.”
Betty nodded and chimed in. “For now, you two should get some rest. Peru is more than six thousand miles away, and it’s going to take a while to get there. Once we land, we won’t have much time for rest. You might wish you’d taken advantage of the time to sleep.”
Andy noticed something interesting: instead of chairs, the sisters were situated on a comfy-looking sofa. Betty smiled and handed him one of the pillows that was next to the armrest.
“This plane seems pretty small. Will we have enough fuel to get there? What if we run out? Are there stops along the way?” Andy asked. He knew that traveling such distances usually required much larger passenger planes. But his question went unanswered. Betty and Dotty had already settled into the couch and lowered silken sleeping masks over their eyes. Abigail saw Andy’s nervous expression and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Relax, Andy. The J.E.S. has waypoints between here and there for refueling. Yaw knows what she’s doing. My dad told me about her. She’s worked with the Society for years.”
Andy nodded. He was a planner by nature and liked to know all the facts about everything before diving in. Unfortunately for him, he was coming to realize that his grandfather Ned wasn’t like that at all. Ned preferred figuring things out on the go.
Andy sighed and decided that he’d try to follow the sisters’ advice. He pulled his leather jacket over himself like a blanket and tried lowering his battered newsboy cap over his eyes. But as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his mind kept wandering to Bartlemore, the fact that their enemies had a head start, what exactly the Golden Paw was, and whether they could find it first.
Stop thinking! he told himself. All you need to worry about is the here and now. The rest will figure itself out.
But try as he might, it was several hours before Andy finally fell asleep. And when he did, his mind was filled with troubled dreams.
Andy was awakened by a heavy thud as the landing gear of Yaw’s twin-engine plane touched the ground. The cabin was dark, but he saw glimpses of light speeding by outside the windows and then slowing as the air brakes were applied.
When the plane finally shuddered to a stop, he yawned hugely and glanced around at the others. Betty and Dotty were quietly snoring in unison, seemingly unaware that the plane had stopped. Abigail was curled up in a ball, her legs tucked under her on the cushy seat next to him. Andy hesitated, then lightly touched her shoulder and shook it gently.
“Wake up, Abigail,” he whispered. “We’ve landed.”
The girl raised her head and squinted at him. “It’s probably just a fuel stop. Go back to sleep.”
But now that Andy was awake, a strong desire to get off the plane and stretch his legs overcame him. He quietly unbuckled his seat belt and, moving as quietly as he could, made his way toward the front of the plane.
The door next to the cockpit was open, and Rusty and Yaw were nowhere to be seen. Andy cautiously stepped through and onto the collapsible stairway.
The air outside was warm and rather muggy. Andy could see that they were parked next to a long thatched hut with a large fuel truck next to it. Torches illuminated a sign painted in large block letters that read TRADER SAM’S FOOD AND FUEL.
Andy couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. His stomach growled and he made his way down the stairs toward the hut, wondering if they had a candy bar or something.
If they do, I’ll pick up one for Abigail, too, he thought.
Andy pulled open the rickety bamboo door and stepped inside. The interior of Trader Sam’s was lit with a string of ship’s lanterns that cast a warm glow over everything in the shop. The place was kind of dusty, and the shelves were crammed with all kinds of knickknacks and souvenirs. On a rack near the front of the store were several handmade postcards, each depicting a watercolor painting of the Amazon River with various animals and birds.
These are pretty good, Andy thought. The illustrations were expertly done and were priced at just a nickel. He picked out one of a happy-looking water buffalo and wandered deeper into the store, searching for a snack area.
He passed several carved masks and wooden chests, the kind that a pirate might use to bury treasure. There were ships in bottles and tin lamps, tattered books and tiger skins. Everything looked fascinating, and he couldn’t help examining each item and wondering how it had ended up in the shop. Had they been scavenged from shipwrecks? Or did this mysterious Trader Sam get shipments flown in from somewhere?
Judging from the amount of dust, he must not sell very much, Andy mused.
Finally, Andy found a shelf filled with what he was looking for: rows of candy bars, with names he didn’t recognize. Fortunately, they didn’t look as dusty as the rest of the items in the store.
After studying the various kinds, he settled on two gooey cashew-filled chocolate bars called Macaw Mud Pies and walked toward the counter.
He’d just rung a small bell, hoping to summon a cashier, when the sound of voices shouting outside grabbed his attention. Andy gazed through a nearby window and saw with disgust that it was none other than Bartlemore shouting at his assistant about being careful with the camera equipment he was carrying. The Hollywood actor’s shiny plane was parked nearby.
Andy rolled his eyes, ignoring the exchange, and
