"What do you say, Professor Bumper; ought
we not to start off on our own account?"
"We had better if Tolpec does not return
today," was the answer.
They had eaten breakfast, had put their camp
in order, and were about to have a consultation
on what was best to do, when Tom suddenly
called to Ned, who was whistling:
"Hark!"
Through the jungle came a faint sound of singing
--not a harmonious air, but the somewhat
barbaric chant of the natives.
"It is Tolpec coming back!" cried Mr. Damon.
"Hurray! Now our troubles are over t Bless my
meal ticket! Now we can start!"
"It may be Jacinto," suggested Ned.
"Nonsense! you old cold-water pitcher!"
cried Tom. "It's Tolpec! I can see him! He's
a good scout all right!"
And then, walking at the head of a band of
Indians who were weirdly chanting while behind
them came a train of mules, was Tolpec, a cheerful
grin covering his honest, if homely, dark face.
"Me come back!" he exclaimed in gutteral
English, using about half of his foreign vocabulary.
"I see you did," answered Professor Bumper
in the man's own tongue. "Glad to see you.
Is everything all right?"
"All right," was the answer. "These Indians
will take you where you want to go, and will not
leave you as Jacinto did."
"We'll start in the morning!" exclaimed the
savant his own cheerful self again, now that
there was a prospect of going further into the
interior. "Tell the men to get something to eat,
Tolpec.
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