But old Felipe knew his business well. Andy believed they had made no
mistake in leaving matters fully in his hands.

It was about the end of his second hour that the pilot volunteered some
information that gave Andy more or less uneasiness.

"Just ahead, young señor," he said, when for the fifth time the boy
entered his deck pilot house, "we come to the narrowest place in the
whole river at this section. And there, if anywhere, I expect that they
will be waiting for us."

"Do you mean the revolutionists?" exclaimed Andy, interested instantly.

"No other, señor. If we manage to get past there, all will be well. But
they may be encamped on both shores, and demand that we draw in under
penalty of being fired on," Felipe went on, without removing his
snapping black eyes for even a single second from the ever-moving
panorama of shifting water and floating debris, that the searchlight
disclosed ahead of the laboring boat.

"But nothing must tempt us to obey; no matter if they send volleys
aboard. The distance is too far for them to do much damage; and I hear
they are as a rule pretty punk shooters."

Felipe may hardly have known what that word meant, but he could give a
guess.

"But sometimes, young señor, they even have cannon!" he remarked.

"You don't say!" ejaculated Andy, in new alarm; but he quickly caught