“As I said I had sent Jake Poddington, one of my best men, after tapirs and some other South American animals.  He didn’t have very good luck hunting along the Amazon.  In the first place that region has been pretty well cleaned out of circus animals, and another thing it’s getting too well populated.  Another thing is that you can’t get the native hunters and beaters to work for you as they did years ago.”

“So Poddington wrote to me that he was going to take his assistants, make a big jump, and hike it for the Argentine Republic.  He had a tip that along the Salado river there might be something doing, and I told him to go ahead.”

“He shipped me what few animals he had, and lit out for a three thousand mile journey.  I didn’t hear from him for some time, and, when I did, I got the finest collection of animals I had ever laid eyes on.  I got them about the same time I did a letter from Jake, for the mail service ain’t what you could call rushing in that part of South America.”

“But what about the giants?” interrupted Mr. Damon.

“I’m coming to them,” replied the circus man calmly.  “It was this way:  At the tail of his letter which he sent with the shipment of animals Jake said this, and I remember it almost word for word:” 

“‘If all goes well,’ he wrote, ’I’ll have a big surprise for you soon.  I’ve heard a story about a race of big natives that have their stamping ground in this section, and I’m going to try for a few specimens.  I know how much you want a giant.’”

“Well?” asked Tom, after a pause, for the circus man had ceased talking and was staring out of the opened library window into the garden that was just becoming green.

“That was all I ever heard from poor Jake,” said Mr. Preston softly.

“Bless my insurance policy!” gasped Mr. Damon.  “You didn’t tell me that!  What happened to him.”

“I never could find out,” resumed Mr. Preston.  “I never heard another word from him, and I’ve never seen him from the time I parted with him to go after the animals.  The letter saying he was going after the giants was the last line of his I’ve seen.”

“But didn’t you try to locate him?” asked Tom.  “Didn’t he have some companions—­some one who could tell what became of him?”

“Of course I tried!” exclaimed Mr. Preston.  “Do you think I’d let a man like Jake disappear without making some effort to find him?  But he was the only white man in his party, the rest were natives.  That was Jake’s way.  Well, when some time past and I didn’t hear from him, I got busy.  I wrote to our consuls and even some South American merchants with whom I had done business.  But it didn’t amount to anything.”

“Couldn’t you get any news?” asked Ned softly.

“Oh, yes, some, but it didn’t amount to much.  After a long time, and no end of trouble, I had a man locate a native named Zacatas, who was the head beater of the black men under Jake.”