"Senor Beecher," said the Indian, adding, in
Spanish, that he lived in the vicinity and had
only lately been engaged by the young professor
who hoped to discover the idol of gold before
Tom's scientific friend could do so.
Tom and Ned knew a little Spanish, and with
that, and simple but expressive signs on the part
of the Indian, they learned his story. He had his
palm-thatched hut not far from the Beecher camp,
in a small Indian village, and he, with others,
had been hired on the arrival of the Beecher party
to help with the excavations. These, for some
reason, were delayed.
"Delayed because they daren't use the map they
stole from us," commented Ned.
"Maybe," agreed Tom.
The Indian, whose name, it developed, was Tal,
as nearly as Tom and Ned could master it, had
left camp to go to visit his wife and child in the
jungle hut, intending to return to the Beecher
camp at night. But as he passed through the
forest the jaguar had dropped on him, bearing him
to earth.
"But you saved my life, Senor," he said to
Tom, dropping on one knee and trying to kiss
Tom's hand, which our hero avoided. "And now
my life is yours," added the Indian.
"Well, you'd better get home with it and take
care of it," said Tom. "I'll have Professor Bumper
come over and dress your scratches in a better
and more careful way. The bandages we put
on are only temporary."
"My wife she make a poultice of leaves--they
cure me," said the Indian.
"I guess that will be the best way," observed
Ned.
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