Explore "The Mystery of the Barranca" by Herman Whitaker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Breaking through the stream of ocean vapors, the morning sun showed the jungle raising a languid head above the ruins of the flood. Long rents in its green mantle, bare patches of yellow mud, dark bruises where acres of debris had been piled in twisted masses, testified to the force of the wave. But, overlooking the wreckage from the smelter, Seyd took notice principally of a fact that suited his purpose -- the river had been swept clean of driftwood. Not since the beginning of the rains had it shown such open stretches.
"Good! " he muttered. "The sooner we get away the better. I'll call her at once."