"Hand me the rifle, Ned."
Tom took quick aim and pulled the trigger.
The explosive electric bullet went true to its
mark, and the great animal turned over in a death
struggle. But the river was filled with them, and
no sooner had the one nearest the unfortunate
Indian been disposed of than another made a
dash for the man.
There was a wild scream of agony and then
a dark arm shot up above the red foam. The
waters seethed and bubbled as the alligators
fought under it for possession of the paddler.
Tom fired bullet after bullet from his wonderful
rifle into the spot, but though he killed some
of the alligators this did not save the man's life.
His body was not seen again, though search was
made for it.
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.
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