"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."
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.
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