For once it was dead, game did not keep
well in that hot climate, and needed to be cooked
almost immediately.
"We'll try some shots on our back trip," said
the young inventor.
Professor Bumper found plenty of his own
particular kind of "game" which he caught in the
net, transferring the specimens to the boxes he
carried. There were beautiful butterflies, moths
and strange bugs in the securing of which the
scientist evinced great delight, though when one
beetle nipped him firmly and painfully on his
thumb his involuntary cry of pain was as real
as that of any other person.
"But I didn't let him get away," he said in
triumph when he had dropped the clawing insect
into the cyanide bottle where death came painlessly.
"It is well worth a sore thumb."
They wandered on through the jungle, taking
care not to get too far from their camp, for they
did not want to lose their way, nor did they want
to be absent too long in case Tolpec and his
native friends should return.
"Well, it's about time we shot something, I
think," remarked Ned, when they had been out
about two hours. "Let's try for some of these
wild turkeys. They ought to go well roasted
even if it isn't Thanksgiving."
"I'm with you," agreed Tom. "Let's see who
has the best luck. But tone down the charge
in your rifle and use a smaller projectile, or you'll
have nothing but a bunch of feathers to show
for your shot. The guns are loaded for deer."
The change was made, and once more the two
young men started off, a little ahead of Professor
Bumper and Mr.
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