“You don’t seem very enthusiastic,” remarked Ned.  “What’s the matter, Tom?”

“Oh, nothing much.  Though I would feel better if I knew that Andy Foger didn’t have any inkling of what our plans were,” he added, for Eradicate was not present.

“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed his chum.  “Mr. Preston will be here in the morning, and he’ll know whether his rival has any idea of camping on our trail.  Cheer up!”

“Yes, I suppose I am foolish to worry,” admitted Tom. “but, somehow I can’t help it.  I wish Mr. Preston was here now to tell us that Wayland Waydell had gone off to the centre of Africa for a dwarf.  Then I’d know we had nothing to fear.  But I guess—­”

Tom did not finish his sentence for, at that moment, there came a peal at the door bell.  Instinctively every one started, and Mr. Damon exclaimed: 

“Bless my burglar alarm!  What’s that?”

“Someone at the door, Tom,” replied Mr. Swift calmly.  “That’s nothing unusual.  It’s early yet.”

But, in spite of his reassuring words, there was a feeling of vague alarm.

“I’ll see who it is,” volunteered Ned.  “If it’s Andy Foger—­”

Mrs. Baggert entered the room at that moment.  She had hurried to the door, and, as she entered she announced: 

“Mr. Preston!”

“Yes, it is I!” added the circus man following her quickly into the room.  “I came on to-night instead of waiting for the morning, Tom.  I have bad news for you!”

“Bad news!” gasped the young inventor.  “Has Waydell got hold of your plans.”

“I’ll wager it has something to do with Andy Foger!” exclaimed Ned.

“Neither one,” spoke the circus man.  “But I have just had a cable dispatch from one of my animal agents in Brazil, saying that war has broken out among the tribes in the central part of South America.  A big native war is being waged all around giant land, as near as we can figure it out.”

“War among the native tribes!” exclaimed Mr. Swift.

“Yes, and one of the worst in years.  Of course, Tom, after such alarming news as this I won’t hold you to your promise to go.  It’s all off.  I’m sorry, but you’d better wait.  It won’t be safe to go there now.  Better unpack, Tom.”

For a moment there was a silence in the room.  Then the young inventor leaped to his feet and faced the circus man.

“Unpack?” cried Tom in ringing tones.  “Never!  I’m going to giant land, fight or no fight!  Ned, come with me and we’ll put in some of my electric rifles.  I wasn’t going to take them along, but I will now.  Unpack?  I guess not!  I’m going to get a giant for you, Mr. Preston, and save Jake Poddington if he’s alive.  Come on, Ned.”

CHAPTER VII

FIRE ON BOARD

“Your electric rifles!” exclaimed Ned Newton, as he followed his chum to the storeroom, where Tom kept a number of spare guns.  “It’s a good thing you thought of them, Tom.”