The accident cast a little damper over the party, and there was a feeling of gloom among the Indians.  Professor Bumper announced that he would see to it that the man’s family did not want, and this seemed to give general satisfaction, especially to a brother who was with the party.

Aside from being caught in a drenching storm and one or two minor accidents, nothing else of moment marked the remainder of the river journey, and at the end of the third day the canoes pulled to shore and a night camp was made.

“But where are the mules we are to use in traveling to-morrow?” asked the professor of Jacinto.

“In the next village.  We shall march there in the morning.  No use to go there at night when all is dark.”

“I suppose that is so.”

The Indians made camp as usual, the goods being brought from the canoes and piled up near the tents.  Then night settled down.

“Hello!” cried Tom, awakening the next morning to find the sun streaming into his tent.  “We must have overslept, Ned.  We were to start before old Sol got in his heavy work, but we haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“I didn’t hear any one call us,” remarked Ned.

“Nor I. Wonder if we’re the only lazy birds.”  He looked from the tent in time to see Mr. Damon and the professor emerging.  Then Tom noticed something queer.  The canoes were not on the river bank.  There was not an Indian in sight, and no evidence of Jacinto.

“What’s the matter?” asked the young inventor.  “Have the others gone on ahead?”

“I rather think they’ve gone back,” was the professor’s dry comment.

“Gone back?”

“Yes.  The Indians seem to have deserted us at the ending of this stage of our journey.”

“Bless my time-table!” cried Mr. Damon.  “You don’t say so!  What does it mean?  What has becomes of our friend Jacinto?”

“I’m afraid he was rather a false friend,” was the professor’s answer.  “This is the note he left.  He has gone and taken the canoes and all the Indians with him,” and he held out a paper on which was some scribbled writing.

CHAPTER XIII

FORWARD AGAIN

“What does it all mean?” asked Tom, seeing that the note was written in Spanish, a tongue which he could speak slightly but read indifferently.

“This is some of Beecher’s work,” was Professor Bumper’s grim comment.  “It seems that Jacinto was in his pay.”

“In his pay!” cried Mr. Damon.  “Do you mean that Beecher deliberately hired Jacinto to betray us?”

“Well, no.  Not that exactly.  Here, I’ll translate this note for you,” and the professor proceeded to read: 

“Senors:  I greatly regret the step I have to take, but I am a gentleman, and, having given my word, I must keep it.  No harm shall come to you, I swear it on my honor!”

“Queer idea of honor he has!” commented Tom, grimly.