“That Beecher certainly was slick,” commented Professor Bumper when they were ready to start.  “He must have known about what time I would arrive, and he had Jacinto waiting for us.  I thought it was too good to be true, to get an experienced guide like him so easily.  But it was all planned, and I was so engrossed in thinking of the ancient treasures I hope to find that I never thought of a possible trick.  Well, let’s start!” and he led the way into the jungle, carrying his heavy pack as lightly as did Tom.

Professor Bumper had a general idea in which direction lay a number of native villages, and it was determined to head for them, blazing a path through the wilderness, so that the Indians could follow it back to the goods left behind.

It was with rather heavy hearts that the party set off, but Tom’s spirits could not long stay clouded, and the scientist was so good-natured about the affair and seemed so eager to do the utmost to render Beecher’s trick void, that the others fell into a lighter mood, and went on more cheerfully, though the way was rough and the packs heavy.

They stopped at noon under a bower they made of palms, and, spreading the nets over them, got a little rest after a lunch.  Then, when the sun was less hot, they started off again.

“Forward is the word!” cried Ned cheerfully.  “Forward!"’

They had not gone more than an hour on the second stage of their tramp when Tom, who was in the lead, following the direction laid out by the compass, suddenly stopped, and reached around for his electric rifle, which he was carrying at his back.

“What is it?” asked Ned in a whisper.

“I don’t know, but it’s some big animal there in the bushes,” was Tom’s low-voiced answer.  “I’m ready for it.”

The rustling increased, and a form could be seen indistinctly.  Tom aimed the deadly gun and stood ready to pull the trigger.

Ned, tho had a side view into the underbrush, gave a sudden cry.

“Don’t shoot, Tom!” he yelled.  “It’s a man!”

CHAPTER XIV: 

A NEW GUIDE

In spite of Ned Newton’s cry, Tom’s finger pressed the switch-trigger of the electric rifle, for previous experience had taught him that it was sometimes the best thing to awe the natives in out-of-the-way corners of the earth.  But the young inventor quickly elevated the muzzle, and the deadly missile went hissing through the air over the head of a native Indian who, at that moment, stepped from the bush.

The man, startled and alarmed, shrank back and was about to run into the jungle whence he had emerged.  Small wonder if he had, considering the reception he so unwittingly met with.  But Tom. aware of the necessity for making inquiries of one who knew that part of the jungle, quickly called to him.

“Hold on!” he shouted.  “Wait a minute.  I didn’t mean that.  I thought at first you were a tapir or a tiger.  No harm intended.  I say, Professor,” Tom called back to the savant, “you’d better speak to him in his lingo, I can’t manage it.  He may be useful in guiding us to that Indian village Jacinto told us of.”