But they kept on
with dogged patience, through many hardships.
To add to their troubles they seemed to have
entered the abode of the fiercest mosquitoes
encountered since coming to Honduras. At times
it was necessary to ride along with hats covered
with mosquito netting, and hands encased in
gloves.
They had taken plenty of condensed food with
them, and they did not suffer in this respect.
Game, too, was plentiful and the electric rifles of
Tom and Ned added to the larder.
One night, after a somewhat sound sleep
induced by hard travel on the trail that day, Tom
awoke to hear some one or something moving
about among their goods, which included their
provisions.
"Who's there?" asked the young inventor
sharply, as he reached for his electric rifle.
There was no answer, but a rattling of the pans.
"Speak, or I'll fire!" Tom warned, adding this
in such Spanish as he could muster, for he thought
it might be one of the Indians. No reply came,
and then, seeing by the light of the stars a dark
form moving in front of the tent occupied by
himself and Ned, Tom fired.
There was a combined grunt and squeal of
pain, then a savage growl, and Ned yelled:
"What's the matter, Tom?" for he had been
awakened, and heard the crackle of the electrical
discharge.
"I don't know," Tom answered. "But I shot
something--or somebody!"
"Maybe some of Beecher's crowd," ventured
his chum. But when they got their electric
torches, and focused them on the inert, black
object, it was found to be a bear which had come
to nose about the camp for dainty morsels.
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