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“But he knew we were coming,” Mr. Livingston said in a worried voice. “He promised to meet us here at Cartagena.”

“Sure it wasn’t Santa Marta or Bogota?”

“Of course not. We wouldn’t make a mistake as stupid as that. How can we get word to him?”

“No way,” the agent replied indifferently. “When Corning gets around to it, if he ain’t too busy, he may drop down to Santa Marta. Or maybe to Bogota. Lately, he’s been sending his emeralds to the office there—when he has any to send, which ain’t often.”

“Can’t we get word to the mine?”

“There’s no railroad. Only a mule track. My advice is to see Cartagena and if he doesn’t show up in a few days, take a boat back to the States.”

The agent’s advice was most discouraging to the Scouts. After talking with Baronni for a while longer, they gloomily returned to their hotel to think over the situation.

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