“Good!” cried Tom, “then we’ll fool our rival relic hunters and our museum will get the benefit.”  He said this quite loudly.

“Ah, then you want the relics for a museum?” asked the Mexican contractor quickly.

“Yes, if they pay enough,” replied Tom, and he meant it, for he had no doubt that many museums would be glad to get specimens of the golden images.

Just as they were about to start off Tom had swept the moonlit trail with his night-glass, but there was no sign of the Fogers, though they may have seen their rivals start off.

“Let her go!” ordered Tom, and they were once more underway.

It was about five miles to where the trail divided, and it was midnight when they got there, for the going was not easy.

“Now, which way,” asked Delazes, as the caravan came to a halt.  “To the left or right?”

“Let me see,” mused Tom, trying to remember the map the African missionary had sent him.  “Do these roads come together farther on?”

“No, but there is a cross trail about twenty miles ahead by which one can get from either of these trails to the other.”

“Good!” cried the young inventor.  “Then we’ll go to the right, and we can make our way back.  But wait a minute.  Send a couple of carts on the left trail for about two miles.  We’ll wait here until they come back.”

“The senor is pleased to joke,” remarked the Mexican quickly.

“I never was more earnest in all my life,” replied Tom.

“What’s the answer?” asked Ned.

“I want to fool the Fogers.  If they see cart tracks on both roads they won’t know which one we took.  They may hit on the right one first shot, and again, they may go to the left until they come to the place where our two carts turn back.  In that case we’ll gain a little time.”

“Good!” cried Ned.  “I might have known you had a good reason, Tom.”

“Send on two carts,” ordered the young inventor, and now Delazes understood the reason for the strategy.  He chuckled as he ordered two of the drivers to start off, and come back after covering a couple of miles.

It was rather dreary waiting there at the fork of the trail, and to beguile the time Tom ordered fires lighted and chocolate made.  The men appreciated this, and were ready to start off again when their companions returned.

“There,” announced Tom, when they were on the way once more, “I think we’ve given them something to think over at any rate.  Now for a few more miles, and then we’ll rest until morning.”

All were glad enough when Tom decided to go into camp, and they slept later than usual the next morning.  The trail was now of such a character that no one following them could be detected until quite close, so it was useless to worry over what the Fogers might do.

“We’ll just make the best time we can, and trust to luck,” Tom said.