It really was not unpleasant traveling, aside from the heat.  And they had expected that, coming as they had to a tropical land.  But, as Tom said, what lay before them might be worse.

In a little while they had left behind them all signs of civilization.  The river narrowed and flowed sluggishly between the banks which were luxuriant with tropical growth.  Now and then some lonely Indian hut could be seen, and occasionally a craft propelled by a man who was trying to gain a meager living from the rubber forest which hemmed in the stream on either side.

As the canoe containing the men was paddled along, there floated down beside it what seemed to be a big, rough log.

“I wonder if that is mahogany,” remarked Mr. Damon, reaching over to touch it.  “Mahogany is one of the most valuable woods of Honduras, and if this is a log of that nature——­

“Bless my watch chain!” he suddenly cried.  It’s alive!”

And the “log” was indeed so, for there was a sudden flash of white teeth, a long red opening showed, and then came a click as an immense alligator, having opened and closed his mouth, sank out of sight in a swirl of water.

Mr. Damon drew back so suddenly that he tilted the canoe, and the black paddlers looked around wonderingly.

“Alligator,” explained Jacinto succinctly, in their tongue.

“Ugh!” they grunted.

“Bless my—­bless my——­” hesitated Mr. Damon, and for one of the very few times in his life his language failed him.

“Are there many of them hereabouts?” asked Ned, looking back at the swirl left by the saurian.

“Plenty,” said the guide, with a shrug of his shoulders.  He seemed to do as much talking that way, and with his hands, as he did in speech.  “The river is full of them.”

“Dangerous?” queried Tom.

“Don’t go in swimming,” was the significant advice.  “Wait, I’ll show you,” and he called up the canoe just behind.

In this canoe was a quantity of provisions.  There was a chunk of meat among other things, a gristly piece, seeing which Mr. Damon had objected to its being brought along, but the guide had said it would do for fish bait.  With a quick motion of his hand, as he sat in the awning-covered stern with Tom, Ned and the others, Jacinto sent the chunk of meat out into the muddy stream.

Hardly a second later there was a rushing in the water as though a submarine were about to come up.  An ugly snout was raised, two rows of keen teeth snapped shut as a scissors-like jaw opened, and the meat was gone.

“See!” was the guide’s remark, and something like a cold shiver of fear passed over the white members of the party.  “This water is not made in which to swim.  Be careful!”

“We certainly shall,” agreed Tom.  “They’re fierce.”

“And always hungry,” observed Jacinto grimly.

“And to think that I—­that I nearly had my hand on it,” murmured Mr. Damon.  “Ugh!  Bless my eyeglasses!”