I have ever met. I venture to say that before Bowen J. Tyler sent
him to college he had never heard the word ethics, and yet I am
equally sure that in all his life he never has transgressed a single
tenet of the code of ethics of an American gentleman.

Ten days after they brought Mr. Tyler's body off the Toreador,
we steamed out into the Pacific in search of Caprona. There were
forty in the party, including the master and crew of the Toreador;
and Billings the indomitable was in command. We had a long and
uninteresting search for Caprona, for the old map upon which the
assistant secretary had finally located it was most inaccurate.
When its grim walls finally rose out of the ocean's mists before
us, we were so far south that it was a question as to whether we
were in the South Pacific or the Antarctic. Bergs were numerous,
and it was very cold.

All during the trip Billings had steadfastly evaded questions as
to how we were to enter Caspak after we had found Caprona. Bowen
Tyler's manuscript had made it perfectly evident to all that the
subterranean outlet of the Caspakian River was the only means of
ingress or egress to the crater world beyond the impregnable cliffs.
Tyler's party had been able to navigate this channel because their
craft had been a submarine; but the Toreador could as easily have
flown over the cliffs as sailed under them. Jimmy Hollis and Colin
Short whiled away many an hour inventing schemes for surmounting
the obstacle presented by the barrier cliffs, and making ridiculous
wagers as to which one Tom Billings had in mind; but immediately
we were all assured that we had raised Caprona, Billings called us
together.