Dawn found us over the mountains. The Director at Caracas challenged us. Argo kept me by his side constantly now. Dutifully we answered every call. The local morning traffic was beginning to pick up; but we mingled with it, at 8,000 feet and more, to clear the mountains comfortably. Elza again cooked and, with Argo joining us, we had breakfast. Argo's good nature continued, as we successfully approached the end of our flight. But still he volunteered nothing to us. We asked him no questions. Elza was grave-faced, solemn. But she did not bother Georg and me with woman's fears. Bravely she kept her own counsel, anxious only to be of help to us. We passed over the Venezuelan Province, over the mountains and into Amazonia, headwaters of the great river--still on the 67th Meridian West. The jungles here were sparsely settled; there were, I knew, no more than a dozen standard cities of a million population, or over, in the whole region of Western Brazilana. As we advanced, I noticed an unusual number of the armed government flyers above us. Many were hovering, almost motionless, as though waiting for orders. But none of them molested us. Near the 10th parallel South latitude, we passed under a fleet of the white official vessels, with a division of the Brazilana patrol joined with them. A hundred vessels hovering up there in an east and west line--a line a hundred miles long it must have been. Hovering there, for what? We did not know; but Argo, leering up at them insolently, may have guessed. They challenged us, but let us through. "You are the last one in," this sub-director of the patrol told us. I could see him in our mirror as his gaze examined our pit--a dapper, jaunty fellow with the up-tilted mustache affected in Latina. "Last one in--you Inter-Allied are a nuisance." He was more particular than those directors we had passed before. My badge and my verbal explanation were not enough. He made me show him the Inter-Allied seal which I always carried, and I gave him the pass-code of the current week. "Last one in," he reiterated. "And you wouldn't get in now without those refugees with you. Venia's closed after noon of today. Didn't you know it?" "No," I said. "Well, it is. They shut off the power early this morning for all low vibrations--yours and under. Brought 'em all down for a general traffic inspection. Then changed their minds and threw it on again. But if you're coming out north again, you've got to get out by noon. And you go in at your own peril." He assumed that Argo and his men were Venus refugees going with me into Venia! I only vaguely understood what might be afoot, but I did not dare question him. Argo's side glance at me was menacing. I agreed with this director obediently and broke connection.