“Oh, it isn’t a question of money,” said Tom.  “It’s time.”

“That’s just what it is with me!” exclaimed Professor Bumper.  “I haven’t any time to lose.  My rivals may, even now, be on their way to Honduras!”

“Your rivals!” cried Tom.  “You didn’t say anything about them!”

“No, I believe I didn’t There were so many other things to talk about.  But there is a rival archaeologist who would ask nothing better than to get ahead of me in this matter.  He is younger than I am, and youth is a big asset nowadays.”

“Pooh!  You’re not old!” cried Mr. Damon.  “You’re no older than I am, and I’m still young.  I’m a lot younger than some of these boys who are afraid to tackle a trip through a tropical wilderness,” and he playfully nudged Tom in the ribs.

“I’m not a bit afraid!” retorted the young inventor.

“No, I know you’re not,” laughed Mr. Damon.  “But I’ve got to say something, Tom, to stir you up.  Ned, how about you?  Would you go?”

“I can’t, unless Tom does.  You see I’m his financial man now.”

“There you are, Tom Swift!” cried Mr. Damon.  “You see you are holding back a number of persons just because you don’t want to go.”

“I certainly wouldn’t like to go without Tom,” said the professor slowly.  “I really need his help.  You know, Tom, we would never have found the city of Pelone if it had not been for you and your marvelous powder.  The conditions in the Copan valley are likely to be still more difficult to overcome, and I feel that I risk failure without your young energy and your inventive mind to aid in the work and to suggest possible means of attaining our object.  Come, Tom, reconsider, and decide to make the trip.”

“And my promise to go was dependent on
Tom’s agreement to accompany us,” said Mr.
Damon

“Come on!” urged the professor, much as one boy might urge another to take part in a ball game.  “Don’t let my rival get ahead of me.”

“I wouldn’t like to see that,” Tom said slowly.  “Who is he—­any one I know?”

“I don’t believe so, Tom.  He’s connected with a large, new college that has plenty of money to spend on explorations and research work.  Beecher is his name—­Fenimore Beecher.”

“Beecher!” exclaimed Tom, and there was such a change in his manner that his friends could not help noticing it.  He jumped to his feet, his eyes snapping, and he looked eagerly and anxiously at Professor Bumper.

“Did you say his name was Fenimore Beecher?” Tom asked in a tense voice.

“That’s what it is—­Professor Fenimore Beecher.  He is really a learned young man, and thoroughly in earnest, though I do not like his manner.  But he is trying to get ahead of me, which may account for my feeling.”

Tom Swift did not answer.  Instead he hurried from the room with a murmured apology.

“I’ll be back in about five minutes,” he said, as he went out.