It was a very complete little outfit.
We were to leave the yacht at the nearest safe port and go up that endless river in our motorboat, just the three of us and a pilot; then drop the pilot when we got to that last stopping place of the previous party, and hunt up that clear water stream ourselves.
The motorboat we were going to leave at anchor in that wide shallow lake.

It had a special covering of fitted armor, thin but strong, shut up like a clamshell.
"Those natives can't get into it, or hurt it, or move it," Terry explained proudly.

"We'll start our flier from the lake and leave the boat as a base to come back to." "If we come back," I suggested cheerfully.
"'Fraid the ladies will eat you ?" he scoffed.
"We're not so sure about those ladies, you know," drawled Jeff.

"There may be a contingent of gentlemen with poisoned arrows or something." "You don't need to go if you don't want to," Terry remarked drily.
"Go?
You'll have to get an injunction to stop me!" Both Jeff and I were sure about that.
But we did have differences of opinion, all the long way.
An ocean voyage is an excellent time for discussion.

Now we had no eavesdroppers, we could loll and loaf in our deck chairs and talk and talk--there was nothing else to do.