certain of Tom’s inventions and implements sent on by express to New York to be taken to Honduras, and then our friends themselves followed to the metropolis.
“Good-bye, Tom,” said his father. “Good- bye, and good luck! If you don’t get the idol of gold I’m sure you’ll have experiences that will be valuable to you.”
“We’re going to get the idol of gold!” said Tom determinedly.
“Look out for the bad bugs,” suggested Eradicate.
“We will,” promised Ned.
Tom’s last act was to send a message to Mary Nestor, and then he, with Ned and Mr. Damon, who blessed everything in sight from the gasoline in the automobile to the blue sky overhead, started for the station.
New York was reached without incident. The trio put up at the hotel where Professor Bumper was to meet them.
“He hasn’t arrived yet,” said Tom, after glancing over the names on the hotel register and not seeing Professor Bumper’s among them.
“Oh, he’ll be here all right,” asserted Mr. Damon. “Bless my galvanic battery! he sent me a telegram at one o’clock this morning saying he’d be sure to meet us in New York. No fear of him not starting for the land of wonders.”
“There are some other professors registered, though,” observed Ned, as he glanced at the book, noting the names of several scientists of whom he and Tom had read.
“Yes. I wonder what they’re doing in New York,” replied Tom. “They are from New
England. Maybe there’s a convention going on. Well, we’ll have to wait, that’s all, until Professor Bumper comes.”
And during that wait Tom heard something that surprised him and caused him no little worry. It was when Ned came back to his
room, which adjoined Tom’s, that the young treasurer gave his chum the news.
“I say, Tom!” Ned exclaimed. “Who do you think those professors are, whose names we saw on the register?”
“I haven’t the least idea.”
“Why, they’re of Beecher’s party!”
“You don’t mean it!”
“I surely do.”
“How do you know?”
“I happened to overhear two of them talking down in the lobby a while ago. They didn’t make any secret of it. They spoke freely of going with Beecher to some ancient city in Honduras, to look for an idol of gold.”
“They did? But where is Beecher?”
“He hasn’t joined them yet. Their plans have been changed. Instead of leaving on the same steamer we are to take in the morning they are to come on a later one. The professors here are waiting for Beecher to come.”
“Why isn’t he here now?”
“Well, I heard one of the other scientists say that he had gone to a place called Fayetteville, and will come on from there.”
“Fayetteville!” ejaculated Tom.
“Yes. That isn’t far from Shopton.”
“I know,” assented Tom. “I wonder–I wonder why he is going there?”
“I can tell you that, too.”
“You can? You’re a regular detective.”
“No, I just happened to overhear it. Beecher is going to call on Mary Nestor in Fayetteville, so his friends here said he told them, and his call has to do with an important matter–to him!” and Ned gazed curiously at his chum.
CHAPTER VIII
OFF FOR HONDURAS
Just what Tom’s thoughts were, Ned, of course, could not guess. But by the flush that showed under the tan of his chum’s cheeks the young financial secretary felt pretty certain that Tom was a bit apprehensive of the outcome of Professor Beecher’s call on Mary Nestor.
“So he is going to see her about `something important,’ Ned?”
“That’s what some members of his party called it.”
“And they’re waiting here for him to join them?”
“Yes. And it means waiting a week for another steamer. It must be something pretty important, don’t you think, to cause Beecher to risk that delay in starting after the idol of gold?”
“Important? Yes, I suppose so,” assented Tom. “And yet even if he waits for the next steamer he will get to Honduras nearly as soon as we do.”
“How is that?”
“The next boat is a faster one.”
“Then why don’t we take that? I hate dawdling along on a slow freighter.”
“Well, for one thing it would hardly do to change now, when all our goods are on board. And besides, the captain of the _Relstab_, on which we are going to sail, is a friend of Professor Bumper’s.”
“Well, I’m just as glad Beecher and his party aren’t going with us,” resumed Ned, after a pause. “It might make trouble.”
“Oh, I’m ready for any trouble HE might make!” quickly exclaimed Tom.
He meant trouble that might be developed in going to Honduras, and starting the search for the lost city and the idol of gold. This kind of trouble Tom and his friends had experienced before, on other trips where rivals had sought to frustrate their ends.
But, in his heart, though he said nothing to Ned about it, Tom was worried. Much as he disliked to admit it to himself, he feared the visit of Professor Beecher to Mary Nestor in Fayetteville had but one meaning.
“I wonder if he’s going to propose to her,” thought Tom. “He has the field all to himself now, and her father likes him. That’s in his favor. I guess Mr. Nestor has never quite forgiven me for that mistake about the dynamite box, and that wasn’t my fault. Then, too, the Beecher and Nestor families have been friends for years. Yes, he surely has the inside edge on me, and if he gets her to throw me over—- Well, I won’t give up without a fight!” and Tom mentally girded himself for a battle of wits.
“He’s relying on the prestige he’ll get out of this idol of gold if his party finds it,” thought on the young inventor. “But I’ll help find it first. I’m glad to have a little start of him, anyhow, even if it isn’t more than two days. Though if our vessel is held back much by storms he may get on the ground first. However, that can’t be helped. I’ll do the best I can.”
These thoughts shot through Tom’s mind even as Ned was asking his questions and making comments. Then the young inventor, shaking his shoulders as though to rid them of some weight, remarked:
“Well, come on out and see the sights. It will be long before we look on Broadway again.”
When the chums returned from their sightseeing excursion, they found that Professor Bumper had arrived.
“Where’s Professor Bumper?” asked Ned, the next day.
“In his room, going over books, papers and maps to make sure he has everything.”
“And Mr. Damon?”
Tom did not have to answer that last question. Into the apartment came bursting the excited individual himself.
“Bless my overshoes!” he cried, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Come on, there’s no time to lose!”
“What’s the matter now?” asked Ned. “Is the hotel on fire?”
“Has anything happened to Professor Bumper?” Tom demanded, a wild idea forming in his head that perhaps some one of the Beecher party had tried to kidnap the discoverer of the lost city of Pelone.
“Oh, everything is all right,” answered Mr. Damon. “But it’s nearly time for the show to start, and we don’t want to be late. I have tickets.”
“For what?” asked Tom and Ned together.
“The movies,” was the laughing reply. “Bless my loose ribs! but I wouldn’t miss him for anything. He’s in a new play called `Up in a Balloon Boys.’ It’s great!” and Mr. Damon named
a certain comic moving picture star in whose horse-play Mr. Damon took a curious interest. Tom and Ned were glad enough to go, Tom
that he might have a chance to do a certain amount of thinking, and Ned because he was still boy enough to like moving pictures.
“I wonder, Tom,” said Mr. Damon, as they came out of the theater two hours later, all three chuckling at the remembrance of what they had seen, “I wonder you never turned your inventive mind to the movies.”
“Maybe I will, some day,” said Tom.
He spoke rather uncertainly. The truth of the matter was that he was still thinking deeply of the visit of Professor Beecher to Mary Nestor, and wondering what it portended.
But if Tom’s sleep was troubled that night he said nothing of it to his friends. He was up early the next morning, for they were to leave that day, and there was still considerable to be done in seeing that their baggage and supplies were safely loaded, and in attending to the last details of some business matters.
While at the hotel they had several glimpses of the members of the Beecher party who were awaiting the arrival of the young professor who was to lead them into the wilds of Honduras. But our friends did not seek the acquaintance of their rivals. The latter, likewise, remained by themselves, though they knew doubtless that there was likely to be a strenuous race for the possession of the idol of gold, then, it was presumed, buried deep in some forest-covered city.
Professor Bumper had made his arrangements carefully. As he explained to his friends, they would take the steamer from New York to Puerto Cortes, one of the principal seaports of Honduras. This is a town of about three thousand inhabitants, with an excellent harbor and a big pier along which vessels can tie up and discharge their cargoes directly into waiting cars.
The preparations were finally completed. The party went aboard the steamer, which was a large freight vessel, carrying a limited number of passengers, and late one afternoon swung down New York Bay.
“Off for Honduras!” cried Ned gaily, as they passed the Statue of Liberty. “I wonder what will happen before we see that little lady again.”
“Who knows?” asked Tom, shrugging his shoulders, Spanish fashion. And there came before him the vision of a certain “little lady,” about whom he had been thinking deeply of late.
CHAPTER IX
VAL JACINTO
“Rather tame, isn’t it, Tom?”
“Well, Ned, it isn’t exactly like going up in an airship,” and Tom Swift who was gazing over the rail down into the deep blue water of the Caribbean Sea, over which their vessel was then steaming, looked at his chum beside him.
“No, and your submarine voyage had it all over this one for excitement,” went on Ned. “When I think of that—-“
“Bless my sea legs!” interrupted Mr. Damon, overhearing the conversation. “Don’t speak of THAT trip. My wife never forgave me for going on it. But I had a fine time,” he added with a twinkle of his eyes.
“Yes, that was quite a trip,” observed Tom, as his mind went back to it. “But this one isn’t over yet remember. And I shouldn’t be surprised if we had a little excitement very soon.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ned.
Up to this time the voyage from New York down into the tropical seas had been anything but exciting. There were not many passengers besides themselves, and the weather had been fine.
At first, used as they were to the actions of unscrupulous rivals in trying to thwart their efforts, Tom and Ned had been on the alert for any signs of hidden enemies on board the steamer. But aside from a little curiosity when it became known that they were going to explore
little-known portions of Honduras, the other passengers took hardly any interest in our travelers.
It was thought best to keep secret the fact that they were going to search for a wonderful idol of gold. Not even the mule and ox-cart drivers, whom they would hire to take them into the wilds of the interior would be told of the real object of the search. It would be given out that they were looking for interesting ruins of ancient cities, with a view to getting such antiquities as might be there.
“What do you mean?” asked Ned again, when Tom did not answer him immediately. “What’s the excitement?”
“I think we’re in for a storm,” was the reply. “The barometer is falling and I see the crew going about making everything snug. So we may have a little trouble toward this end of our trip.”
“Let it come!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “We’re not afraid of trouble, Tom. Swift, are we?”
“No, to be sure we’re not. And yet it looks as though the storm would be a bad one.”
“Then I am going to see if my books and papers are ready, so I can get them together in a hurry in case we have to take to the life-boats,” said Professor Bumper, coming on deck at that moment. “It won’t do to lose them. If we didn’t have the map we might not be able to find—-“
“Ahem!” exclaimed Tom, with unnecessary emphasis it seemed. “I’ll help you go over your papers, Professor,” he added, and with a wink and a motion of his hand, he enjoined silence on his friend. Ned looked around for a reason for this, and observed a man, evidently of Spanish extraction, passing them as he paced up and down the deck.
“What’s the matter?” asked the scientist in a whisper, as the man went on. “Do you know him? Is he a—-?”
“I don’t know anything about him,” said Tom; “but it is best not to speak of our trip before strangers.”
“You are right, Tom,” said Professor Bumper. “I’ll be more careful.”
A storm was brewing, that was certain. A dull, sickly yellow began to obscure the sky, and the water, from a beautiful blue, turned a slate color and ran along the sides of the vessel with a hissing sound as though the sullen waves would ask nothing better than to suck the craft down into their depths. The wind, which had been freshening, now sang in louder tones as it hummed through the rigging and the funnel stays and bowled over the receiving conductors of the wireless.
Sharp commands from the ship’s officers hastened the work of the crew in making things snug, and life lines were strung along deck for the safety of such of the passengers as might venture up when the blow began.
The storm was not long in coming. The howling of the wind grew louder, flecks of foam began to separate themselves from the crests of the waves, and the vessel pitched, rolled and tossed more violently. At first Tom and his friends thought they were in for no more than an ordinary blow, but as the storm progressed, and the passengers became aware of the anxiety on the part of the officers and crew, the alarm spread among them.
It really was a violent storm, approaching a hurricane in force, and at one time it seemed as though the craft, having been heeled far over under a staggering wave that swept her decks, would not come back to an even keel.
There was a panic among some of the
passengers, and a few excited men behaved in a way that caused prompt action on the part of the first officer, who drove them back to the main cabin under threat of a revolver. For the men were determined to get to the lifeboats, and a small craft would not have had a minute to live in such seas as were running.
But the vessel proved herself sturdier than the timid ones had dared to hope, and she was soon running before the blast, going out of her course, it is true, but avoiding the danger among the many cays, or small islands, that dot the Caribbean Sea.
There was nothing to do but to let the storm blow itself out, which it did in two days. Then came a period of delightful weather. The cargo had shifted somewhat, which gave the steamer a rather undignified list.
This, as well as the loss of a deckhand overboard, was the effect of the hurricane, and though the end of the trip came amid sunshine and sweet-scented tropical breezes, many could not forget the dangers through which they had passed.
In due time Tom and his party found
themselves safely housed in the small hotel at Puerto Cortes, their belongings stored in a convenient warehouse and themselves, rather weary by reason of the stress of weather, ready for the start into the interior wilds of Honduras.
“How are we going to make the trip?” asked Ned, as they sat at supper, the first night after their arrival, eating of several dishes, the red- pepper condiments of which caused frequent trips to the water pitcher.
“We can go in two ways, and perhaps we shall find it to our advantage to use both means,” said Professor Bumper. “To get to this city of Kurzon,” he proceeded in a low voice, so that none of the others in the dining-room would hear them, “we will have to go either by mule back or boat to a point near Copan. As near as I can tell by the ancient maps, Kurzon is in the Copan valley.
“Now the Chamelecon river seems to run to within a short distance of there, but there is no telling how far up it may be navigable. If we can go by boat it will be much more comfortable. Travel by mules and ox-carts is slow and sure, but the roads are very bad, as I have heard from friends who have made explorations in Honduras.
“And, as I said, we may have to use both land and water travel to get us where we want to go. We can proceed as far as possible up the river, and then take to the mules.”
“What about arranging for boats and animals?” asked Tom. “I should think—-“
He suddenly ceased talking and reached for the water, taking several large swallows.
“Whew!” he exclaimed, when he could catch his breath. “That was a hot one.”
“What did you do?” asked Ned.
“Bit into a nest of red pepper. Guess I’ll have to tell that cook to scatter his hits. He’s bunching ’em too much in my direction,” and Tom
wiped the tears from his eyes.
“To answer your question,” said Professor Bumper, “I will say that I have made partial arrangements for men and animals, and boats if it is found feasible to use them. I’ve been in correspondence with one of the merchants here, and he promised to make arrangements for us.”
“When do we leave?” asked Mr. Damon.
“As soon as possible. I am not going to risk anything by delay,” and it was evident the professor referred to his young rival whose arrival might be expected almost any time.
As the party was about to leave the table, they were approached by a tall, dignified Spaniard who bowed low, rather exaggeratedly low, Ned thought, and addressed them in fairly good English.
“Your pardons, Senors,” he began, “but if it will please you to avail yourself of the humble services of myself, I shall have great pleasure in guiding you into the interior. I have at my command both mules and boats.”
“How do you know we are going into the interior?” asked Tom, a bit sharply, for he did not like the assurance of the man.
“Pardon, Senor. I saw that you are from the States. And those from the States do not come to Honduras except for two reasons. To travel and make explorations or to start trade, and professors do not usually engage in trade,” and he bowed to Professor Bumper.
“I saw your name on the register,” he proceeded, “and it was not difficult to guess your mission,” and he flashed a smile on the party, his white teeth showing brilliantly beneath his small, black moustache.
“I make it my business to outfit traveling parties, either for business, pleasure or scientific matters. I am, at your service, Val Jacinto,” and he introduced himself with another low bow.
For a moment Tom and his friends hardly knew how to accept this offer. It might be, as the man had said, that he was a professional tour conductor, like those who have charge of Egyptian donkey-boys and guides. Or might he not be a spy?
This occurred to Tom no less than to Professor Bumper. They looked at one another while Val Jacinto bowed again and murmured:
“At your service!”
“Can you provide means for taking us to the Copan valley?” asked the professor. “You are right in one respect. I am a scientist and I purpose doing some exploring near Copan. Can
you get us there?”
“Most expensively–I mean, most expeditionlessly,” said Val Jacinto eagerly. “Pardon my
unhappy English. I forget at times. The charges will be most moderate. I can send you by boat as far as the river travel is good, and then have mules and ox-carts in waiting.”
“How far is it?” asked Tom.
“A hundred miles as the vulture flies, Senor, but much farther by river and road. We shall be a week going.”
“A hundred miles in a week!” groaned Ned. “Say, Tom, if you had your aeroplane we’d be there in an hour.”
“Yes, but we haven’t it. However, we’re in no great rush.”
“But we must not lose time,” said Professor Bumper. “I shall consider your offer,” he added to Val Jacinto.
“Very good, Senor. I am sure you will be pleased with the humble service I may offer you, and my charges will be small. Adios,” and he bowed himself away.
“What do you think of him?” asked Ned, as they went up to their rooms in the hotel, or rather one large room, containing several beds.
“He’s a pretty slick article,” said Mr. Damon. “Bless my check-book! but he spotted us at once, in spite of our secrecy.”
“I guess these guide purveyors are trained for that sort of thing,” observed the scientist. “I know my friends have often spoken of having had the same experience. However, I shall ask my friend, who is in business here, about this Val Jacinto, and if I find him all right we may engage him “
Inquiries next morning brought the information, from the head of a rubber exporting firm with whom the professor was acquainted, that the Spaniard was regularly engaged in transporting parties into the interior, and was considered efficient, careful and as honest as pos- sible, considering the men he engaged as workers.
“So we have decided to engage you,” Professor Bumper informed Val Jacinto the afternoon following the meeting.
“I am more than pleased, Senor. I shall take you into the wilds of Honduras. At your
service!” and he bowed low.
“Humph! I don’t just like the way our friend Val says that,” observed Tom to Ned a little later. “I’d have been better pleased if he had said he’d guide us into the wilds and out again.”
If Tom could have seen the crafty smile on the face of the Spaniard as the man left the hotel, the young inventor might have felt even less confidence in the guide.
CHAPTER X
IN THE WILDS
“All aboard! Step lively now! This boat makes no stops this side of Boston!” cried Ned Newton gaily, as he got into one of the several tree canoes provided for the transportation of the party up the Chamelecon river, for the first stage of their journey into the wilds of Honduras. “All aboard! This reminds me of my old camping days, Tom.”
It brought those days back, in a measure, to Tom also. For there were a number of canoes filled with the goods of the party, while the members themselves occupied a larger one with their personal baggage. Strong, half-naked Indian paddlers were in charge of the canoes which were of sturdy construction and light draft, since the river, like most tropical streams, was of uncertain depths, choked here and there with sand bars or tropical growths.
Finding that Val Jacinto was regularly engaged in the business of taking explorers and
mine prospectors into the interior, Professor Bumper had engaged the man. He seemed to be efficient. At the promised time he had the canoes and paddlers on hand and the goods safely stowed away while one big craft was fitted up as comfortably as possible for the men of the party.
As Ned remarked, it did look like a camping party, for in the canoes were tents, cooking utensils and, most important, mosquito canopies of heavy netting.
The insect pests of Honduras, as in all tropical countries, are annoying and dangerous. Therefore it was imperative to sleep under mosquito netting.
On the advice of Val Jacinto, who was to accompany them, the travelers were to go up the river about fifty miles. This was as far as it would be convenient to use the canoes, the guide told Tom and his friends, and from there on the trip to the Copan valley would be made on the backs of mules, which would carry most of the baggage and equipment. The heavier portions would be transported in ox-carts.
As Professor Bumper expected to do considerable excavating in order to locate the buried city, or cities, as the case might be, he had to contract for a number of Indian diggers and laborers. These could be hired in Copan, it was said.
The plan, therefore, was to travel by canoes during the less heated parts of the day, and tie up at night, making camp on shore in the net- protected tents. As for the Indians, they did not seem to mind the bites of the insects. They sometimes made a smudge fire, Val Jacinto had said, but that was all.
“Well, we haven’t seen anything of Beecher and his friends,” remarked the young inventor as they were about to start.
“No, he doesn’t seem to have arrived,” agreed Professor Bumper. “We’ll get ahead of him, and so much the better.
“Well, are we all ready to start?” he continued, as he looked over the little flotilla which carried his party and his goods.
“The sooner the better!” cried Tom, and Ned fancied his chum was unusually eager.
“I guess he wants to make good before Beecher gets the chance to show Mary Nestor what he can do,” thought Ned. “Tom sure is after that idol of gold.”
“You may start, Senor Jacinto,” said the professor, and the guide called something in Indian dialect to the rowers. Lines were cast off and the boats moved out into the stream under the influence of the sturdy paddlers.
“Well, this isn’t so bad,” observed Ned, as he made himself comfortable in his canoe. “How about it, Tom?”
“Oh, no. But this is only the beginning.”
A canopy had been arranged over their boat to keep off the scorching rays of the sun. The boat containing the exploring party and Val Jacinto took the lead, the baggage craft following. At the place where it flowed into the bay on which Puerto Cortes was built, the stream was wide and deep.
The guide called something to the Indians, who increased their stroke.
“I tell them to pull hard and that at the end of the day’s journey they will have much rest and refreshment,” he translated to Professor Bumper and the others.
“Bless my ham sandwich, but they’ll need plenty of some sort of refreshment,” said Mr. Damon, with a sigh. “I never knew it to be so hot.”
“Don’t complain yet,” advised Tom, with a laugh. “The worst is yet to come.”
It really was not unpleasant traveling, aside from the heat. And they had expected that, coming as they had to a tropical land. But, as Tom said, what lay before them might be worse.
In a little while they had left behind them all signs of civilization. The river narrowed and flowed sluggishly between the banks which were luxuriant with tropical growth. Now and then some lonely Indian hut could be seen, and occasionally a craft propelled by a man who was trying to gain a meager living from the rubber forest which hemmed in the stream on either side.
As the canoe containing the men was paddled along, there floated down beside it what seemed to be a big, rough log.
“I wonder if that is mahogany,” remarked Mr. Damon, reaching over to touch it. “Mahogany is one of the most valuable woods of Honduras, and if this is a log of that nature—-
“Bless my watch chain!” he suddenly cried. It’s alive!”
And the “log” was indeed so, for there was a sudden flash of white teeth, a long red opening showed, and then came a click as an immense alligator, having opened and closed his mouth, sank out of sight in a swirl of water.
Mr. Damon drew back so suddenly that he tilted the canoe, and the black paddlers looked around wonderingly.
“Alligator,” explained Jacinto succinctly, in their tongue.
“Ugh!” they grunted.
“Bless my–bless my—-” hesitated Mr. Damon, and for one of the very few times in his life his language failed him.
“Are there many of them hereabouts?” asked Ned, looking back at the swirl left by the saurian.
“Plenty,” said the guide, with a shrug of his shoulders. He seemed to do as much talking that way, and with his hands, as he did in speech. “The river is full of them.”
“Dangerous?” queried Tom.
“Don’t go in swimming,” was the significant advice. “Wait, I’ll show you,” and he called up the canoe just behind.
In this canoe was a quantity of provisions. There was a chunk of meat among other things, a gristly piece, seeing which Mr. Damon had objected to its being brought along, but the guide had said it would do for fish bait. With a quick motion of his hand, as he sat in the awning- covered stern with Tom, Ned and the others, Jacinto sent the chunk of meat out into the muddy stream.
Hardly a second later there was a rushing in the water as though a submarine were about to come up. An ugly snout was raised, two rows of keen teeth snapped shut as a scissors- like jaw opened, and the meat was gone.
“See!” was the guide’s remark, and something like a cold shiver of fear passed over the white members of the party. “This water is not made in which to swim. Be careful!”
“We certainly shall,” agreed Tom. “They’re fierce.”
“And always hungry,” observed Jacinto grimly.
“And to think that I–that I nearly had my hand on it,” murmured Mr. Damon. “Ugh!
Bless my eyeglasses!”
“The alligator nearly had your hand,” said the guide. “They can turn in the water like a flash, wherefore it is not wise to pat one on the tail lest it present its mouth instead.”
They paddled on up the river, the dusky Indians now and then breaking out into a chant
that seemed to give their muscles new energy. The song, if song it was, passed from one boat to the other, and as the chant boomed forth the craft shot ahead more swiftly.
They made a landing about noon, and lunch was served. Tom and his friends were hungry in spite of the heat. Moreover, they were experienced travelers and had learned not to fret over inconveniences and discomforts. the Ind- ians ate by themselves, two acting as servants to Jacinto and the professor’s party.
As is usual in traveling in the tropics, a halt was made during the heated middle of the day. Then, as the afternoon shadows were waning, the party again took to the canoes and paddled on up the river.
“Do you know of a good place to stop during the night?” asked Professor Bumper of Jacinto.
“Oh, yes; a most excellent place. It is where I always bring scientific parties I am guiding. You may rely on me.”
It was within an hour of dusk–none too much time to allow in which to pitch camp in the tropics, where night follows day suddenly–when a halt was called, as a turn of the river showed a little clearing on the edge of the forest-bound river.
“We stay here for the night,” said Jacinto. “It is a good place.”
“It looks picturesque enough,” observed Mr. Damon. “But it is rather wild.”
“We are a good distance from a settlement,” agreed the guide. “But one can not explore– and find treasure in cities,” and he shrugged his shoulders again.
“Find treasure? What do you mean?” asked Tom quickly. “Do you think that we—-?”
“Pardon, Senor,” replied Jacinto softly. “I meant no offense. I think that all you scientific parties will take treasure if you can find it.”
“We are looking for traces of the old Honduras civilization,” put in Professor Bumper.
“And doubtless you will find it,” was the somewhat too courteous answer of the guide. “Make camp quickly!” he called to the Indians in their tongue. “You must soon get under the nets or you will be eaten alive!” he told Tom. “There are many mosquitoes here.”
The tents were set up, smudge fires built and supper quickly prepared. Dusk fell rapidly, and as Tom and Ned walked a little way down
toward the river before turning in under the mosquito canopies, the young financial man said:
“Sort of lonesome and gloomy, isn’t it, Tom?”
“Yes. But you didn’t expect to find a moving picture show in the wilds of Honduras, did you?”
“No, and yet– Look out! What’s that?” suddenly cried Ned, as a great soft, black shadow seemed to sweep out of a clump of trees toward him. Involuntarily he clutched Tom’s arm and pointed, his face showing fear in the fast-gathering darkness.
CHAPTER XI
THE VAMPIRES
Tom Swift looked deliberately around. It was characteristic of him that, though by nature he was prompt in action, he never acted so hurriedly as to obscure his judgment. So, though
now Ned showed a trace of strange excitement, Tom was cool.
“What is it?” asked the young inventor. “What’s the matter? What did you think you saw, Ned; another alligator?”
“Alligator? Nonsense! Up on shore? I saw a black shadow, and I didn’t THINK I saw it, either. I really did.”
Tom laughed quietly.
“A shadow!” he exclaimed. “Since when were you afraid of shadows, Ned?”
“I’m not afraid of ordinary shadows,” answered Ned, and in his voice there was an uncertain tone. “I’m not afraid of my shadow or
yours, Tom, or anybody’s that I can see. But this wasn’t any human shadow. It was as if a great big blob of wet darkness had been waved over your head.”
“That’s a queer explanation,” Tom said in a low voice. “A great big blob of wet darkness!”
“But that just describes it,” went on Ned, looking up and around. “It was just as if you were in some dark room, and some one waved a wet velvet cloak over your head–spooky like! It didn’t make a sound, but there was a smell as if a den of some wild beast was near here. I remember that odor from the time we went hunting with your electric rifle in the jungle, and got near the den in the rocks where the tigers lived.”
“Well, there is a wild beast smell all around here,” admitted Tom, sniffing the air. “It’s the alligators in the river I guess. You know they have an odor of musk.”
“Do you mean to say you didn’t feel that shadow flying over us just now?” asked Ned.
“Well, I felt something sail through the air, but I took it to be a big bird. I didn’t pay much attention. To tell you the truth I was thinking about Beecher–wondering when he would get here,” added Tom quickly as if to forestall any question as to whether or not his thoughts had to do with Beecher in connection with Tom’s affair of the heart.
“Well it wasn’t a bird–at least not a regular bird,” said Ned in a low voice, as once more he looked at the dark and gloomy jungle that stretched back from the river and behind the little clearing where the camp had been made.
“Come on!” cried Tom, in what he tried to make a cheerful voice. “This is getting on your nerves, Ned, and I didn’t know you had any. Let’s go back and turn in. I’m dog-tired and the mosquitoes are beginning to find that we’re here. Let’s get under the nets. Then the black shadows won’t get you.”
Not at all unwilling to leave so gloomy a scene, Ned, after a brief glance up and down the dark river, followed his chum. They found Professor Bumper and Mr. Damon in their tent, a separate one having been set up for the two men adjoining that of the youths.
“Bless my fountain pen!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, as he caught sight of Tom and Ned in the flickering light of the smudge fire between the two canvas shelters. “We were just wondering what had become of you.”
“We were chasing shadows!” laughed Tom. “At least Ned was. But you look cozy enough in there.”
It did, indeed, look cheerful in contrast to the damp and dark jungle all about. Professor Bumper, being an experienced traveler, knew how to provide for such comforts as were possible. Folding cots had been opened for himself, Mr. Damon and the guide to sleep on, others, similar, being set up in the tent where Tom and Ned were to sleep. In the middle of the tent the professor had made a table of his own and Mr.
Damon’s suit cases, and on this placed a small dry battery electric light. He was making some notes, doubtless for a future book. Jacinto was going about the camp, seeing that the Indians were at their duties, though most of them had gone directly to sleep after supper.
“Better get inside and under the nets,” advised Professor Bumper to Tom and Ned. “The mosquitoes here are the worst I ever saw.”
“We’re beginning to believe that,” returned Ned, who was unusually quiet. “Come on,
Tom. I can’t stand it any longer. I’m itching in a dozen places now from their bites.”
As Tom and Ned had no wish for a light, which would be sure to attract insects, they entered their tent in the dark, and were soon stretched out in comparative comfort. Tom was just on the edge of a deep sleep when he heard Ned murmur:
“I can’t understand it!”
“What’s that?” asked the young inventor.
“I say I can’t understand it.”
“Understand what?”
“That shadow. It was real and yet—-“
“Oh, go to sleep!” advised Tom, and, turning over, he was soon breathing heavily and regularly, indicating that he, at least, had taken his own advice.
Ned, too, finally succumbed to the overpowering weariness of the first day of travel, and he, too, slept, though it was an uneasy slumber, disturbed by a feeling as though some one were holding a heavy black quilt over his head, preventing him from breathing.
The feeling, sensation or dream–whatever it was–perhaps a nightmare–became at last so real to Ned that he struggled himself into wakefulness. With an effort he sat up, uttering an inarticulate cry. To his surprise he was answered. Some one asked:
“What is the matter?”
“Who–who are you?” asked Ned quickly, trying to peer through the darkness.
“This is Jacinto–your guide,” was the soft answer. “I was walking about camp and, hearing you murmuring, I came to your tent. Is
anything wrong?”
For a moment Ned did not answer. He
listened and could tell by the continued heavy and regular breathing of his chum that Tom was still asleep.
“Are you in our tent?” asked Ned, at length:
“Yes,” answered Jacinto. “I came in to see what was the matter with you. Are you ill?”
“No, of course not,” said Ned, a bit shortly. “I–I had a bad dream, that was all. All right now.”
“For that I am glad. Try to get all the sleep you can, for we must start early to avoid the heat of the day,” and there was the sound of the guide leaving and arranging the folds of the mosquito net behind him to keep out the night- flying insects.
Once more Ned composed himself to sleep, and this time successfully, for he did not have any more unpleasant dreams. The quiet of the jungle settled down over the camp, at least the comparative quiet of the jungle, for there were always noises of some sort going on, from the fall of some rotten tree limb to the scream or growl of a wild beast, while, now and again, from the river came the pig-like grunts of the alligators.
It was about two o’clock in the morning, as they ascertained later, when the whole camp– white travelers and all–was suddenly awakened by a wild scream. It seemed to come from one of the natives, who called out a certain word ever and over again. To Tom and Ned it
sounded like:
“Oshtoo! Oshtoo! Oshtoo!”
“What’s the matter?” cried Professor Bumper.
“The vampires!” came the answering voice of Jacinto. “One of the Indians has been attacked by a big vampire bat! Look out, every one! It may be a raid by the dangerous creatures! Be careful!”
Notwithstanding this warning Ned stuck his head out of the tent. The same instant he was aware of a dark enfolding shadow passing over him, and, with a shudder of fear, he jumped back.
CHAPTER XII
A FALSE FRIEND
“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried Tom springing from his cot and hastening to the side of his chum in the tent. “What has happened, Ned?”
“I don’t know, but Jacinto is yelling something about vampires!”
“Vampires?”
“Yes. Big bats. And he’s warning us to be careful. I stuck my head out just now and I felt that same sort of shadow I felt this evening when we were down near the river.”
“Nonsense!”
“I tell you I did!”
At that instant Tom flashed a pocket electric lamp he had taken from beneath his pillow and in the gleam of it he and Ned saw fluttering about the tent some dark, shadow-like form, at the sight of which Tom’s chum cried:
“There it is! That’s the shadow! Look out!” and he held up his hands instinctively to shield his face.
“Shadow!” yelled Tom, unconsciously adding to the din that seemed to pervade every part of the camp. “That isn’t a shadow. It’s
substance. It’s a monster bat, and here goes for a strike at it!”
He caught up his camera tripod which was near his cot, and made a swing with it at the creature that had flown into the tent through an opening it had made for itself.
“Look out!” yelled Ned. “If it’s a vampire it’ll—-“
“It won’t do anything to me!” shouted Tom, as he struck the creature, knocking it into the corner of the tent with a thud that told it must be completely stunned, if not killed. “But what’s it all about, anyhow?” Tom asked. “What’s the row?”
From without the tent came the Indian cries of:
“Oshtoo! Oshtoo!”
Mingled with them were calls of Jacinto, partly in Spanish, partly in the Indian tongue and partly in English.
“It is a raid by vampire bats!” was all Tom and Ned could distinguish. “We shall have to light fires to keep them away, if we can suc- ceed. Every one grab up a club and strike hard!”
“Come on!” cried Tom, getting on some clothes by the light of his gleaming electric light which he had set on his cot.
“You’re not going out there, are you?” asked Ned.
“I certainly am! If there’s a fight I want to be in it, bats or anything else. Here, you have a light like mine. Flash it on, and hang it somewhere on yourself. Then get a club and come on. The lights will blind the bats, and we can see to hit ’em!”
Tom’s plan seemed to be a good one. His lamp and Ned’s had small hooks on them, so they could be carried in the upper coat pocket, showing a gleam of light and leaving the hands free for use.
Out of the tents rushed the young men to find Professor Bumper and Mr. Damon before them. The two men had clubs and were striking about in the half darkness, for now the Indians had set several fires aglow. And in the gleams,
constantly growing brighter as more fuel was piled on, the young inventor and his chum saw a weird sight.
Circling and wheeling about in the camp clearing were many of the black shadowy forms that had caused Ned such alarm. Great bats they were, and a dangerous species, if Jacinto was to be believed.
The uncanny creatures flew in and out among the trees and tents, now swooping low near the Indians or the travelers. At such times clubs would be used, often with the effect of killing or stunning the flying pests. For a time it seemed as if the bats would fairly overwhelm the camp, so many of them were there. But the increasing lights, and the attacks made by the Indians and the white travelers turned the tide of battle, and, with silent flappings of their soft, velvety wings, the bats flew back to the jungle whence they had emerged.
“We are safe–for the present!” exclaimed Jacinto with a sigh of relief.
“Do you think they will come back?” asked Tom.
“They may–there is no telling.”
“Bless my speedometer!” cried Mr. Damon, “If those beasts or birds–whatever they are– come back I’ll go and hide in the river and take my chances with the alligators!”
“The alligators aren’t much worse,” asserted Jacinto with a visible shiver. “These vampire bats sometimes depopulate a whole village.”
“Bless my shoe laces!” cried Mr. Damon. “You don’t mean to say that the creatures can eat up a whole village?”
“Not quite. Though they might if they got the chance,” was the answer of the Spanish guide. “These vampire bats fly from place to place in great swarms, and they are so large and blood-thirsty that a few of them can kill a horse or an ox in a short time by sucking its blood. So when the villagers find they are visited by a colony of these vampires they get out, taking their live stock with them, and stay in caves or in densely wooded places until the bats fly on. Then the villagers come back.
“It was only a small colony that visited us to- night or we would have had more trouble. I do not think this lot will come back. We have killed too many of them,” and he looked about on the ground where many of the uncanny creatures were still twitching in the death struggle.
“Come back again!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my skin! I hope not! I’ve had enough of bats– and mosquitoes,” he added, as he slapped at his face and neck.
Indeed the party of whites were set upon by the night insects to such an extent that it was necessary to hurry back to the protection of the nets.
Tom and Ned kicked outside the bat the former had killed in their tent, and then both went back to their cots. But it was some little time before they fell asleep. And they did not have much time to rest, for an early start must be made to avoid the terrible heat of the middle of the day.
“Whew!” whistled Ned, as he and Tom arose in the gray dawn of the morning when Jacinto announced the breakfast which the Indian cook had prepared. “That was some night! If this is a sample of the wilds of Honduras, give me the tameness of Shopton.”
“Oh, we’ve gone through with worse than this,” laughed Tom. “It’s all in the day’s work. We’ve only got started. I guess we’re a bit soft, Ned, though we had hard enough work in that tunnel-digging.”
After breakfast, while the Indians were making ready the canoes, Professor Bumper, who, in a previous visit to Central America, had become interested in the subject, made a brief examination of some of the dead bats. They were exceptionally large, some almost as big as hawks. and were of the sub-family _Desmodidae_, the scientist said.
“This is a true blood-sucking bat,” went on the professor. “This,” and he pointed to the nose-leaves, “is the sucking apparatus. The bat makes an opening in the skin with its sharp teeth and proceeds to extract the blood. I can well believe two or three of them, attacking a steer or mule at once, could soon weaken it so the animal would die.”
“And a man, too?” asked Ned.
“Well a man has hands with which to use weapons, but a helpless quadruped has not. Though if a sufficient number of these bats attacked a man at the same time, he would have small chance to escape alive. Their bites, too, may be poisonous for all I know.”
The Indians seemed glad to leave the “place of the bats,” as they called the camp site. Jacinto explained that the Indians believed a vampire could kill them while they slept, and they were very much afraid of the blood-sucking bats. There were many other species in the tropics, Professor Bumper explained, most of which lived on fruit or on insects they caught. The blood-sucking bats were comparatively few, and the migratory sort fewer still.
“Well, we’re on our way once more,”
remarked Tom as again they were in the canoes being paddled up the river. “How much
longer does your water trip take, Professor?”
“I hardly know,” and Professor Bumper looked to Jacinto to answer.
“We go two more days in the canoes,” the guide answered, “and then we shall find the mules waiting for us at a place called Hidjio. From then on we travel by land until–well until you get to the place where you are going.
“I suppose you know where it is?” he added, nodding toward the professor. “I am leaving that part to you.”
“Oh, I have a map, showing where I want to begin some excavations,” was the answer. “We must first go to Copan and see what arrangements we can make for laborers. After that–well, we shall trust to luck for what we shall find.”
“There are said to be many curious things,” went on Jacinto, speaking as though he had no interest. “You have mentioned buried cities. Have you thought what may be in them–great heathen temples, idols, perhaps?”
For a moment none of the professor’s
companions spoke. It was as though Jacinto had tried to get some information. Finally the scientist said:
“Oh, yes, we may find an idol. I understand the ancient people, who were here long before the Spaniards came, worshiped idols. But we shall take whatever antiquities we find.”
“Huh!” grunted Jacinto, and then he called to the paddlers to increase their strokes.
The journey up the river was not very eventful. Many alligators were seen, and Tom and Ned shot several with the electric rifle. Toward the close of the third day’s travel there was a cry from one of the rear boats, and an alarm of a man having fallen overboard was given.
Tom turned in time to see the poor fellow’s struggles, and at the same time there was a swirl in the water and a black object shot forward.
“An alligator is after him!” yelled Ned.
“I see,” observed Tom calmly. “Hand me the rifle, Ned.”
Tom took quick aim and pulled the trigger. The explosive electric bullet went true to its mark, and the great animal turned over in a death struggle. But the river was filled with them, and no sooner had the one nearest the unfortunate Indian been disposed of than another made a dash for the man.
There was a wild scream of agony and then a dark arm shot up above the red foam. The waters seethed and bubbled as the alligators fought under it for possession of the paddler. Tom fired bullet after bullet from his wonderful rifle into the spot, but though he killed some of the alligators this did not save the man’s life. His body was not seen again, though search was made for it.
The accident cast a little damper over the party, and there was a feeling of gloom among the Indians. Professor Bumper announced that he would see to it that the man’s family did not want, and this seemed to give general satisfaction, especially to a brother who was with the party.
Aside from being caught in a drenching storm and one or two minor accidents, nothing else of moment marked the remainder of the river journey, and at the end of the third day the canoes pulled to shore and a night camp was made.
“But where are the mules we are to use in traveling to-morrow?” asked the professor of Jacinto.
“In the next village. We shall march there in the morning. No use to go there at night when all is dark.”
“I suppose that is so.”
The Indians made camp as usual, the goods being brought from the canoes and piled up near the tents. Then night settled down.
“Hello!” cried Tom, awakening the next morning to find the sun streaming into his tent. “We must have overslept, Ned. We were to start before old Sol got in his heavy work, but we haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“I didn’t hear any one call us,” remarked Ned.
“Nor I. Wonder if we’re the only lazy birds.” He looked from the tent in time to see Mr. Damon and the professor emerging. Then Tom noticed something queer. The canoes were not on the river bank. There was not an Indian in sight, and no evidence of Jacinto.
“What’s the matter?” asked the young
inventor. “Have the others gone on ahead?”
“I rather think they’ve gone back,” was the professor’s dry comment.
“Gone back?”
“Yes. The Indians seem to have deserted us at the ending of this stage of our journey.”
“Bless my time-table!” cried Mr. Damon. “You don’t say so! What does it mean? What has becomes of our friend Jacinto?”
“I’m afraid he was rather a false friend,” was the professor’s answer. “This is the note he left. He has gone and taken the canoes and all the Indians with him,” and he held out a paper on which was some scribbled writing.
CHAPTER XIII
FORWARD AGAIN
“What does it all mean?” asked Tom, seeing that the note was written in Spanish, a tongue which he could speak slightly but read indifferently.
“This is some of Beecher’s work,” was Professor Bumper’s grim comment. “It seems that Jacinto was in his pay.”
“In his pay!” cried Mr. Damon. “Do you mean that Beecher deliberately hired Jacinto to betray us?”
“Well, no. Not that exactly. Here, I’ll translate this note for you,” and the professor proceeded to read:
“Senors: I greatly regret the step I have to take, but I am a gentleman, and, having given my word, I must keep it. No harm shall come to you, I swear it on my honor!”
“Queer idea of honor he has!” commented Tom, grimly.
Professor Bumper read on:
“Know then, that before I engaged myself to you I had been engaged by Professor Beecher through a friend to guide him into the Copan valley, where he wants to make some explorations, for what I know not, save maybe that it
is for gold. I agreed, in case any rival expeditions came to lead them astray if I could.
“So, knowing from what you said that you were going to this place, I engaged myself to you, planning to do what I have done. I greatly regret it, as I have come to like you, but I had given my promise to Professor Beecher’s friend, that I would first lead him to the Copan valley, and would keep others away until he had had a chance to do his exploration.
“So I have led you to this wilderness. It is far from the Copan, but you are near an Indian village, and you will be able to get help in a week or so. In the meanwhile you will not starve, as you have plenty of supplies. If you will travel northeast you will come again to Puerto Cortes in due season. As for the money I had from you, I deposit it to your credit, Professor Beecher having made me an allowance for steering rival parties on the wrong trail. So I lose nothing, and I save my honor.
“I write this note as I am leaving in the night with the Indians. I put some harmless sedative in your tea that you might sleep soundly, and not awaken until we were well on our way. Do not try to follow us, as the river will carry us swiftly away. And, let me add, there is no personal animosity on the part of Professor Beecher against you. I should have done to any rival expedition the same as I have done with you. JACINTO.”
For a moment there was silence, and then Tom Swift burst out with:
“Well, of all the mean, contemptible tricks of a human skunk this is the limit!”
“Bless my hairbrush, but he is a scoundrel!” ejaculated Mr. Damon, with great warmth.
“I’d like to start after him the biggest alligator in the river,” was Ned’s comment.
Professor Bumper said nothing for several seconds. There was a strange look on his face, and then he laughed shortly, as though the humor of the situation appealed to him.
“Professor Beecher has more gumption than I gave him credit for,” he said. “It was a clever trick!”
“Trick!” cried Tom.
“Yes. I can’t exactly agree that it was the right thing to do, but he, or some friend acting for him, seems to have taken precautions that we are not to suffer or lose money. Beecher goes on the theory that all is fair in love and war, I suppose, and he may call this a sort of scientific war.”
Ned wondered, as he looked at his chum, how much love there was in it. Clearly Beecher was determined to get that idol of gold.
“Well, it can’t be helped, and we must make the best of it,” said Tom, after a pause.
“True. But now, boys, let’s have breakfast, and then we’ll make what goods we can’t take with us as snug as possible, until we can send the mule drivers after them,” went on Professor Bumper.
“Send the mule drivers after them?” questioned Ned. “What do you mean to do?”
“Do? Why keep on, of course. You don’t suppose I’m going to let a little thing like this stand between me and the discovery of Kurzon and the idol of gold, do you?”
“But,” began Mr. Damon, “I don’t see how–“
“Oh, we’ll find a way,” interrupted Tom. “It isn’t the first time I’ve been pretty well stranded on an expedition of this kind, and sometimes from the same cause–the actions of a rival. Now we’ll turn the tables on the other fellows and see how they like it. The professor’s right –let’s have breakfast. Jacinto seems to have told the truth. Nothing of ours is missing.”
Tom and Ned got the meal, and then a
consultation was held as to what was best to be done.
“We can’t go on any further by water, that’s sure,” said Tom. “In the first place the river is too shallow, and secondly we have no canoes. So the only thing is to go on foot through the jungle.”
“But how can we, and carry all this stuff?” asked Ned.
“We needn’t carry it!” cried Professor Bumper. “We’ll leave it here, where it will be safe enough, and tramp on to the nearest Indian village. There we’ll hire bearers to take our stuff on until we can get mules. I’m not going to turn back!”
“Good!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my
rubber boots! but that’s what I say–keep on!”
“Oh, no! we’ll never turn back,” agreed Tom.
“But how can we manage it?” asked Ned.
“We’ve just got to! And when you have to do a thing, it’s a whole lot easier to do than if you just feel as though you ought to. So, lively is the word!” cried Tom, in answer.
“We’ll pack up what we can carry and leave the rest,” added the scientist.
Being an experienced traveler Professor Bumper had arranged his baggage so that it could be carried by porters if necessary. Everything could be put into small packages, including the tents and food supply.
“There are four of us,” remarked Tom, “and if we can not pack enough along with us to enable us to get to the nearest village, we had better go back to civilization. I’m not afraid to try.”
“Nor I!” cried Mr. Damon.
The baggage, stores and supplies that were to be left behind were made as snug as possible, and so piled up that wild beasts could do the least harm. Then a pack was made up for each one to carry.
They would take weapons, of course, Tom Swift’s electric rifle being the one he choose for himself. They expected to be able to shoot game on their way, and this would provide them food in addition to the concentrated supply they carried. Small tents, in sections, were carried, there being two, one for Tom and Ned and one for Mr. Damon and the professor.
As far as could be learned from a casual inspection, Jacinto and his deserting Indians had taken back with them only a small quantity of food. They were traveling light and down stream, and could reach the town much more quickly than they had come away from it.
“That Beecher certainly was slick,” commented Professor Bumper when they were ready to start. “He must have known about what time I would arrive, and he had Jacinto waiting for us. I thought it was too good to be true, to get an experienced guide like him so easily. But it was all planned, and I was so engrossed in thinking of the ancient treasures I hope to find that I never thought of a possible trick. Well, let’s start!” and he led the way into the jungle, carrying his heavy pack as lightly as did Tom.
Professor Bumper had a general idea in which direction lay a number of native villages, and it was determined to head for them, blazing a path through the wilderness, so that the Indians could follow it back to the goods left behind.
It was with rather heavy hearts that the party set off, but Tom’s spirits could not long stay clouded, and the scientist was so good-natured about the affair and seemed so eager to do the utmost to render Beecher’s trick void, that the others fell into a lighter mood, and went on more cheerfully, though the way was rough and the packs heavy.
They stopped at noon under a bower they made of palms, and, spreading the nets over them, got a little rest after a lunch. Then, when the sun was less hot, they started off again.
“Forward is the word!” cried Ned cheerfully. “Forward!”‘
They had not gone more than an hour on the second stage of their tramp when Tom, who was in the lead, following the direction laid out by the compass, suddenly stopped, and reached around for his electric rifle, which he was carrying at his back.
“What is it?” asked Ned in a whisper.
“I don’t know, but it’s some big animal there in the bushes,” was Tom’s low-voiced answer. “I’m ready for it.”
The rustling increased, and a form could be seen indistinctly. Tom aimed the deadly gun and stood ready to pull the trigger.
Ned, tho had a side view into the underbrush, gave a sudden cry.
“Don’t shoot, Tom!” he yelled. “It’s a man!”
CHAPTER XIV:
A NEW GUIDE
In spite of Ned Newton’s cry, Tom’s finger pressed the switch-trigger of the electric rifle, for previous experience had taught him that it was sometimes the best thing to awe the natives in out-of-the-way corners of the earth. But the young inventor quickly elevated the muzzle, and the deadly missile went hissing through the air over the head of a native Indian who, at that moment, stepped from the bush.
The man, startled and alarmed, shrank back and was about to run into the jungle whence he had emerged. Small wonder if he had, considering the reception he so unwittingly met with. But Tom. aware of the necessity for making inquiries of one who knew that part of the jungle, quickly called to him.
“Hold on!” he shouted. “Wait a minute. I didn’t mean that. I thought at first you were a tapir or a tiger. No harm intended. I say, Professor,” Tom called back to the savant, “you’d better speak to him in his lingo, I can’t manage it. He may be useful in guiding us to that Indian village Jacinto told us of.”
This Professor Bumper did, being able to make himself understood in the queer part-Spanish dialect used by the native Hondurians, though he could not, of course, speak it as fluently as had Jacinto.
Professor Bumper had made only a few remarks to the man who had so unexpectedly appeared out of the jungle when the scientist gave an exclamation of surprise at some of the answers made.
“Bless my moving picture!” cried Mr. Damon.
“What’s the matter now? Is anything wrong? Does he refuse to help us?”
“No, it isn’t that,” was the answer. “In fact he came here to help us. Tom, this is the brother of the Indian who fell overboard and who was eaten by the alligators. He says you were very kind to try to save his brother with your rifle, and for that reason he has come back to help us.”
“Come back?” queried Tom.
“Yes, he went off with the rest of the Indians when Jacinto deserted us, but he could not stand being a traitor, after you had tried to save his brother’s life. These Indians are queer people.
They don’t show much emotion, but they have deep feelings. This one says he will devote himself to your service from now on. I believe we can count on him. He is deeply grateful to you, Tom.”
“I’m glad of that for all our sakes. But what does he say about Jacinto?”
The professor asked some more questions, receiving answers, and then translated them.
“This Indian, whose name is Tolpec, says Jacinto is a fraud,” exclaimed Professor Bumper. “He made all the Indians leave us in the night, though many of them were willing to stay and fill the contract they had made. But Jacinto would not let them, making them desert. Tolpec went away with the others, but because of what Tom had done he planned to come back at the first chance and be our guide. Accordingly he jumped ashore from one of the canoes, and made his way to our camp. He got there, found it deserted and followed us, coming up just now.”
“Well I’m glad I didn’t frighten him off with my gun,” remarked Tom grimly. “So he agrees with us that Jacinto is a scoundrel, does he? I guess he might as well classify Professor Beecher in the same way.”
“I am not quite so sure of that,” said Professor Bumper slowly. “I can not believe Beecher would play such a trick as this, though some over-zealous friend of his might.”
“Oh, of course Beecher did it!” cried Tom. “He heard we were coming here, figured out that we’d start ahead of him, and he wanted to side- track us. Well, he did it all right,” and Tom’s voice was bitter.
“He has only side-tracked us for a while,” announced Professor Bumper in cheerful tones.
“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Damon.
“I mean that this Indian comes just in the nick of time. He is well acquainted with this part of the jungle, having lived here all his life, and he offers to guide us to a place where we can get mules to transport ourselves and our baggage to Copan.”
“Fine!” cried Ned. “When can we start?”
Once more the professor and the native conversed in the strange tongue, and then Professor Bumper announced:
“He says it will be better for us to go back where we left our things and camp there. He will stay with us to-night and in the morning go on to the nearest Indian town and come back with porters and helpers.”
“I think that is good advice to follow,” put in Tom, “for we do need our goods; and if we reached the settlement ourselves, we would have to send back for our things, with the uncertainty of getting them all.”
So it was agreed that they would make a forced march back through the jungle to where they had been deserted by Jacinto. There they would make camp for the night, and until such time as Tolpec could return with a force of porters.
It was not easy, that backward tramp through the jungle, especially as night had fallen. But the new Indian guide could see like a cat, and led the party along paths they never could have found by themselves. The use of their pocket electric lights was a great help, and possibly served to ward off the attacks of jungle beasts, for as they tramped along they could hear stealthy sounds in the underbush on either side of the path, as though tigers were stalking them. For there was in the woods an animal of the leopard family, called tiger or “tigre” by the natives, that was exceedingly fierce and dangerous. But watchfulness prevented any accident, and eventually the party reached the place where they had left their goods. Nothing had been disturbed, and finally a fire was made, the tents set up and a light meal, with hot tea served.
“We’ll get ahead of Beecher yet,” said Tom.
“You seem as anxious as Professor Bumper,” observed Mr. Damon,
“I guess I am,” admitted Tom. “I want to see that idol of gold in the possession of our party.”
The night passed without incident, and then, telling his new friends that he would return as soon as possible with help, Tolpec, taking a small supply of food with him, set out through the jungle again.
As the green vines and creepers closed after him, and the explorers were left alone with their possessions piled around them, Ned remarked:
“After all, I wonder if it was wise to let him go?”
“Why not?” asked Tom.
“Well, maybe he only wanted to get us back here, and then he’ll desert, too. Maybe that’s what he’s done now, making us lose two or three days by inducing us to return, waiting for what will never happen–his return with other natives.”
A silence followed Ned’s intimation.
CHAPTER XV
IN THE COILS