Knowing that it was rather more than probable some of the Indians would be stationed upon the hills to watch for the queerly shaped air-demon, the professor felt obliged to lose no further time, and so the separation was effected, just as the eastern sky was beginning to show streaks and veins of a new day. “Touch and go!” cried Waldo, with a vast inhalation as he watched the aeromotor sail away with the swiftness of a bird on wing. “And for a weenty bit I reckoned 'twas you and me as part of the go, too!” In company the lads enjoyed a more leisurely meal than their relative had dared wait for, knowing that, at the very least, they would have the whole of that day to themselves, so far as uncle Phaeton was concerned. As a matter of course, he would not attempt to return except under cover of night, or in the early dawn of another day. All that had been thoroughly discussed and provided for the evening before, and was barely touched upon by the brothers now. Their first and most natural thought was of yonder Lost City, with its inhabitants, red, white, and yellow, as Waldo put it; but being still under the foreboding fears of the professor, they finally agreed to remain where he left them until after the sun crossed its meridian. It was a rather early meal which the brothers prepared, if the whole truth must be told; and the last fragments were bolted rather than chewed, feet keeping time with jaws, as they hastened towards the observatory. There was pretty much the same sort of view as on the day before, the main difference being that many of the Indians were labouring in the fields, instead of watching for the air-demon. Using the glass by turns, the lads kept eager watch for the white women whom Waldo stubbornly persisted were within the town; but hour after hour passed without the desired reward, and Bruno began to doubt whether there was any such vision to be won. “The sun was in your eyes, and you let mad fancy run away with your better judgment, boy,” he decided, at length. “If not, why--what now?” For Waldo gave a low, eager exclamation, gripping the field-glass as though he would crush in the reinforced leather case. A few moments thus, then he laughed in almost fierce glee, thrusting the glass towards his brother, speaking excitedly: “A crazy fool lunatic, am I? Well, now, you just take a squint at the old house for yourself and see if--biting you, now, is it?” For Bruno showed even more intense interest as he caught the right line, there taking note of--yes, they surely were white women! Faces, hair, all went to proclaim that fact. And more than that, even. “Fair--lovely as a painter's dream!” almost painfully breathed the elder Gillespie. “I never saw such a lovely--” “Injun squaw, of course. Couple of 'em. Nobody but a fool would ever think different. The idea of finding white women--” “They are ladies, Waldo! I never saw such--and I feel that they must be the ones lost by poor Edgecombe when that storm--”