“Hello! What’s all this?” Biggles looked in surprise at a formidable heap of letters on the table as he entered his room in the Hotel Guibert in La Paz. “It looks as if we are on the road to fame and fortune,” he observed dryly to Algy, as he opened a letter at random. “Listen to this! Here’s a fellow wants us to go and look for a ruined city in Yucatan.”
“No, thank you; I saw quite enough of mangrove swamps on British Guiana,” replied Algy quickly.
“How about this for a proposition? A Valparaiso hotel-keeper wants us to fetch cargoes of live lobsters from Juan Fernandez.”
“Not for me,” returned Algy incisively. “They might get loose; I’ve no desire to be torn to pieces in mid-air by infuriated crustaceans.”
“What’s this one? How about doing anti-poacher patrols of the guano islands fo
