The insect pests of Honduras, as in all tropical countries, are annoying and dangerous.  Therefore it was imperative to sleep under mosquito netting.

On the advice of Val Jacinto, who was to accompany them, the travelers were to go up the river about fifty miles.  This was as far as it would be convenient to use the canoes, the guide told Tom and his friends, and from there on the trip to the Copan valley would be made on the backs of mules, which would carry most of the baggage and equipment.  The heavier portions would be transported in ox-carts.

As Professor Bumper expected to do considerable excavating in order to locate the buried city, or cities, as the case might be, he had to contract for a number of Indian diggers and laborers.  These could be hired in Copan, it was said.

The plan, therefore, was to travel by canoes during the less heated parts of the day, and tie up at night, making camp on shore in the net-protected tents.  As for the Indians, they did not seem to mind the bites of the insects.  They sometimes made a smudge fire, Val Jacinto had said, but that was all.

“Well, we haven’t seen anything of Beecher and his friends,” remarked the young inventor as they were about to start.

“No, he doesn’t seem to have arrived,” agreed Professor Bumper.  “We’ll get ahead of him, and so much the better.

“Well, are we all ready to start?” he continued, as he looked over the little flotilla which carried his party and his goods.

“The sooner the better!” cried Tom, and Ned fancied his chum was unusually eager.

“I guess he wants to make good before Beecher gets the chance to show Mary Nestor what he can do,” thought Ned.  “Tom sure is after that idol of gold.”

“You may start, Senor Jacinto,” said the professor, and the guide called something in Indian dialect to the rowers.  Lines were cast off and the boats moved out into the stream under the influence of the sturdy paddlers.

“Well, this isn’t so bad,” observed Ned, as he made himself comfortable in his canoe.  “How about it, Tom?”

“Oh, no.  But this is only the beginning.”

A canopy had been arranged over their boat to keep off the scorching rays of the sun.  The boat containing the exploring party and Val Jacinto took the lead, the baggage craft following.  At the place where it flowed into the bay on which Puerto Cortes was built, the stream was wide and deep.

The guide called something to the Indians, who increased their stroke.

“I tell them to pull hard and that at the end of the day’s journey they will have much rest and refreshment,” he translated to Professor Bumper and the others.

“Bless my ham sandwich, but they’ll need plenty of some sort of refreshment,” said Mr. Damon, with a sigh.  “I never knew it to be so hot.”

“Don’t complain yet,” advised Tom, with a laugh.  “The worst is yet to come.”