“Bless my heart!” cried Mr. Damon.  “The whole place has been wiped out.”

“Not one hut left,” added Ned.

“Hark!” cried Tom.

An instant later there arose, off in the woods, a chorus of wild yells.  It was followed by the weird sound of tom-toms and the gourd and skin drums of the natives.  The shouting noise increased, and the sound of the war drums also.

“Look!” cried Mr. Damon, pointing to a distant hill, and there the boys saw two large bodies of natives rushing toward one another, brandishing spears, clubs and the deadly blow guns.

They were not more than half a mile away, and in plain view of Tom and his party, though the two forces had not yet seen our friends.

“They’re going to fight!” cried Tom.

And the next moment the two bodies of natives came together in a mass, the enemies hurling themselves at each other with the eagerness and ferocity of wild beasts.  It was a deadly battle.

CHAPTER XIII

THE DESERTION

“Say, look at those fellows pitch into one another!” gasped Ned.

“It’s fighting at close range all right,” commented Mr. Damon.

“If they had rifles they wouldn’t be at it hand to hand,” spoke Tom.  “Maybe it’s just as well they haven’t, for there won’t be so many killed.  But say, we’d better be thinking of ourselves.  They may make up their quarrel and turn against us any minute.”

“No—­never—­no danger of them being friends—­they are rival tribes,” said San Pedro.  “But either one may attack us—­the one that is the victor.  It is better that we keep away.”

“I guess you’re right,” agreed Tom.  “Lead the way, San Pedro, and we’ll get out of sight.”

But there was a fascination in watching the distant battle that was hard to resist.  It was like looking at a moving picture, for at that distance none of the horrors of war were visible.  True, natives went down by scores, and it was not to be doubted but what they were killed or injured, but it seemed more like a big football scrimmage than a fight.

“This is great!” cried Tom.  “I like to watch it, but I’m sorry for the poor chaps that get hurt or killed.  I hope they’re only stunned as we stunned the wild horses.”

“I’m afraid it is more serious than that,” spoke San Pedro.  “These natives are very bloodthirsty.  It would not be well for us to incur their anger.”

“We won’t run any chances,” decided Tom.  “We’ll just travel on.  Come on, Ned—­Mr. Damon.”

As he spoke there was a sudden victorious shout from the scene of the battle.  One body of natives was seen to turn and flee, while the others pursued them.

“Now’s our time to make tracks!” called Tom.  “We’ll have to push on to the next village before we can ask where the gi—­” he caught himself just in time, for San Pedro was looking curiously at him.