Once more Ned composed himself to sleep, and this time successfully, for he did not have any more unpleasant dreams. The quiet of the jungle settled down over the camp, at least the comparative quiet of the jungle, for there were always noises of some sort going on, from the fall of some rotten tree limb to the scream or growl of a wild beast, while, now and again, from the river came the pig-like grunts of the alligators.
It was about two o’clock in the morning, as they ascertained later, when the whole camp—white travelers and all—was suddenly awakened by a wild scream. It seemed to come from one of the natives, who called out a certain word ever and over again. To Tom and Ned it sounded like:
“Oshtoo! Oshtoo! Oshtoo!”
“What’s the matter?” cried Professor Bumper.
“The vampires!” came the answering voice of Jacinto. “One of the Indians has been attacked by a big vampire bat! Look out, every one! It may be a raid by the dangerous creatures! Be careful!”
Notwithstanding this warning Ned stuck his head out of the tent. The same instant he was aware of a dark enfolding shadow passing over him, and, with a shudder of fear, he jumped back.
CHAPTER XII
A FALSE FRIEND
“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried Tom springing from his cot and hastening to the side of his chum in the tent. “What has happened, Ned?”
“I don’t know, but Jacinto is yelling something about vampires!”
“Vampires?”
“Yes. Big bats. And he’s warning us to be careful. I stuck my head out just now and I felt that same sort of shadow I felt this evening when we were down near the river.”
“Nonsense!”
“I tell you I did!”
At that instant Tom flashed a pocket electric lamp he had taken from beneath his pillow and in the gleam of it he and Ned saw fluttering about the tent some dark, shadow-like form, at the sight of which Tom’s chum cried:
“There it is! That’s the shadow! Look out!” and he held up his hands instinctively to shield his face.
“Shadow!” yelled Tom, unconsciously adding to the din that seemed to pervade every part of the camp. “That isn’t a shadow. It’s substance. It’s a monster bat, and here goes for a strike at it!”
He caught up his camera tripod which was near his cot, and made a swing with it at the creature that had flown into the tent through an opening it had made for itself.
“Look out!” yelled Ned. “If it’s a vampire it’ll—”
“It won’t do anything to me!” shouted Tom, as he struck the creature, knocking it into the corner of the tent with a thud that told it must be completely stunned, if not killed. “But what’s it all about, anyhow?” Tom asked. “What’s the row?”
From without the tent came the Indian cries of:
“Oshtoo! Oshtoo!”
Mingled with them were calls of Jacinto, partly in Spanish, partly in the Indian tongue and partly in English.
“It is a raid by vampire bats!” was all Tom and Ned could distinguish. “We shall have to light fires to keep them away, if we can succeed. Every one grab up a club and strike hard!”
“Come on!” cried Tom, getting on some clothes by the light of his gleaming electric light which he had set on his cot.
“You’re not going out there, are you?” asked Ned.
“I certainly am! If there’s a fight I want to be in it, bats or anything else. Here, you have a light like mine. Flash it on, and hang it somewhere on yourself. Then get a club and come on. The lights will blind the bats, and we can see to hit ’em!”
Tom’s plan seemed to be a good one. His lamp and Ned’s had small hooks on them, so they could be carried in the upper coat pocket, showing a gleam of light and leaving the hands free for use.
Out of the tents rushed the young men to find Professor Bumper and Mr. Damon before them. The two men had clubs and were striking about in the half darkness, for now the Indians had set several fires aglow. And in the gleams, constantly growing brighter as more fuel was piled on, the young inventor and his chum saw a weird sight.
Circling and wheeling about in the camp clearing were many of the black shadowy forms that had caused Ned such alarm. Great bats they were, and a dangerous species, if Jacinto was to be believed.
The uncanny creatures flew in and out among the trees and tents, now swooping low near the Indians or the travelers. At such times clubs would be used, often with the effect of killing or stunning the flying pests. For a time it seemed as if the bats would fairly overwhelm the camp, so many of them were there. But the increasing lights, and the attacks made by the Indians and the white travelers turned the tide of battle, and, with silent flappings of their soft, velvety wings, the bats flew back to the jungle whence they had emerged.
“We are safe—for the present!” exclaimed Jacinto with a sigh of relief.
“Do you think they will come back?” asked Tom.
“They may—there is no telling.”
“Bless my speedometer!” cried Mr. Damon, “If those beasts or birds—whatever they are—come back I’ll go and hide in the river and take my chances with the alligators!”
“The alligators aren’t much worse,” asserted Jacinto with a visible shiver. “These vampire bats sometimes depopulate a whole village.”
“Bless my shoe laces!” cried Mr. Damon. “You don’t mean to say that the creatures can eat up a whole village?”
“Not quite. Though they might if they got the chance,” was the answer of the Spanish guide. “These vampire bats fly from place to place in great swarms, and they are so large and blood-thirsty that a few of them can kill a horse or an ox in a short time by sucking its blood. So when the villagers find they are visited by a colony of these vampires they get out, taking their live stock with them, and stay in caves or in densely wooded places until the bats fly on. Then the villagers come back.
“It was only a small colony that visited us tonight or we would have had more trouble. I do not think this lot will come back. We have killed too many of them,” and he looked about on the ground where many of the uncanny creatures were still twitching in the death struggle.
“Come back again!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my skin! I hope not! I’ve had enough of bats—and mosquitoes,” he added, as he slapped at his face and neck.
Indeed the party of whites were set upon by the night insects to such an extent that it was necessary to hurry back to the protection of the nets.
Tom and Ned kicked outside the bat the former had killed in their tent, and then both went back to their cots. But it was some little time before they fell asleep. And they did not have much time to rest, for an early start must be made to avoid the terrible heat of the middle of the day.
“Whew!” whistled Ned, as he and Tom arose in the gray dawn of the morning when Jacinto announced the breakfast which the Indian cook had prepared. “That was some night! If this is a sample of the wilds of Honduras, give me the tameness of Shopton.”
“Oh, we’ve gone through with worse than this,” laughed Tom. “It’s all in the day’s work. We’ve only got started. I guess we’re a bit soft, Ned, though we had hard enough work in that tunnel-digging.”
After breakfast, while the Indians were making ready the canoes, Professor Bumper, who, in a previous visit to Central America, had become interested in the subject, made a brief examination of some of the dead bats. They were exceptionally large, some almost as big as hawks, and were of the sub-family _Desmodidae_, the scientist said.
“This is a true blood-sucking bat,” went on the professor. “This,” and he pointed to the nose-leaves, “is the sucking apparatus. The bat makes an opening in the skin with its sharp teeth and proceeds to extract the blood. I can well believe two or three of them, attacking a steer or mule at once, could soon weaken it so the animal would die.”
“And a man, too?” asked Ned.
“Well a man has hands with which to use weapons, but a helpless quadruped has not. Though if a sufficient number of th
ese bats attacked a man at the same time, he would have small chance to escape alive. Their bites, too, may be poisonous for all I know.”
The Indians seemed glad to leave the “place of the bats,” as they called the camp site. Jacinto explained that the Indians believed a vampire could kill them while they slept, and they were very much afraid of the blood-sucking bats. There were many other species in the tropics, Professor Bumper explained, most of which lived on fruit or on insects they caught. The blood-sucking bats were comparatively few, and the migratory sort fewer still.
“Well, we’re on our way once more,” remarked Tom as again they were in the canoes being paddled up the river. “How much longer does your water trip take, Professor?”
“I hardly know,” and Professor Bumper looked to Jacinto to answer.
“We go two more days in the canoes,” the guide answered, “and then we shall find the mules waiting for us at a place called Hidjio. From then on we travel by land until—well until you get to the place where you are going.
“I suppose you know where it is?” he added, nodding toward the professor. “I am leaving that part to you.”
“Oh, I have a map, showing where I want to begin some excavations,” was the answer. “We must first go to Copan and see what arrangements we can make for laborers. After that—well, we shall trust to luck for what we shall find.”
“There are said to be many curious things,” went on Jacinto, speaking as though he had no interest. “You have mentioned buried cities. Have you thought what may be in them—great heathen temples, idols, perhaps?”
For a moment none of the professor’s companions spoke. It was as though Jacinto had tried to get some information. Finally the scientist said:
“Oh, yes, we may find an idol. I understand the ancient people, who were here long before the Spaniards came, worshiped idols. But we shall take whatever antiquities we find.”
“Huh!” grunted Jacinto, and then he called to the paddlers to increase their strokes.
The journey up the river was not very eventful. Many alligators were seen, and Tom and Ned shot several with the electric rifle. Toward the close of the third day’s travel there was a cry from one of the rear boats, and an alarm of a man having fallen overboard was given.
Tom turned in time to see the poor fellow’s struggles, and at the same time there was a swirl in the water and a black object shot forward.
“An alligator is after him!” yelled Ned.
“I see,” observed Tom calmly. “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 tomorrow?” 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.”
The Indians made camp as usual, the goods being brought from the canoes and piled up near the tents. Then night settled down.
“Hello!” cried Tom, awakening the next morning to find the sun streaming into his tent. “We must have overslept, Ned. We were to start before old Sol got in his heavy work, but we haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“I didn’t hear any one call us,” remarked Ned.
“Nor I. Wonder if we’re the only lazy birds.” He looked from the tent in time to see Mr. Damon and the professor emerging. Then Tom noticed something queer. The canoes were not on the river bank. There was not an Indian in sight, and no evidence of Jacinto.
“What’s the matter?” asked the young inventor. “Have the others gone on ahead?”
“I rather think they’ve gone back,” was the professor’s dry comment.
“Gone back?”
“Yes. The Indians seem to have deserted us at the ending of this stage of our journey.”
“Bless my time-table!” cried Mr. Damon. “You don’t say so! What does it mean? What has becomes of our friend Jacinto?”
“I’m afraid he was rather a false friend,” was the professor’s answer. “This is the note he left. He has gone and taken the canoes and all the Indians with him,” and he held out a paper on which was some scribbled writing.
CHAPTER XIII
FORWARD AGAIN
“What does it all mean?” asked Tom, seeing that the note was written in Spanish, a tongue which he could speak slightly but read indifferently.
“This is some of Beecher’s work,” was Professor Bumper’s grim comment. “It seems that Jacinto was in his pay.”
“In his pay!” cried Mr. Damon. “Do you mean that Beecher deliberately hired Jacinto to betray us?”
“Well, no. Not that exactly. Here, I’ll translate this note for you,” and the professor proceeded to read:
“Senors: I greatly regret the step I have to take, but I am a gentleman, and, having given my word, I must keep it. No harm shall come to you, I swear it on my honor!”
“Queer idea of honor he has!” commented Tom, grimly.
Professor Bumper read on:
“Know then, that before I engaged myself to you I had been engaged by Professor Beecher through a friend to guide him into the Copan valley, where he wants to make some explorations, for what I know not, save maybe that it is for gold. I agreed, in case any rival expeditions came to lead them astray if I could.
“So, knowing from what you said that you were going to this place, I engaged myself to you, planning to do what I have done. I greatly regret it, as I have come to like you, but I had given my promise to Professor Beecher’s friend, that I would first lead him to the Copan valley, and would keep others away until he had had a chance to do his exploration.
“So I have led you to this wilderness. It is far from the Copan, but you are near an Indian village, and you will be able to get help in a week or so. In the meanwhile you will not starve, as you have plenty of supplies. If you will travel northeast you will come again to Puerto Cortes in due season. As for the money I had from you, I deposit it to your credit, Professor Beecher having made me an allowance for steering rival parties on the wrong trail. So I lose nothing, and I save my honor.
“I write this note as I am leaving in the night with the Indians. I put some harmless sedative in your tea that you might sleep soundly, and not awaken until we were well on our way. Do not try to follow us, as the river will carry us swiftly away. And, let me add, there is no personal animosity on the part of Professor Beecher against you. I should have done to any rival expedition the same as I have done with you.
JACINTO.”
For a moment there was silence, and then Tom Swift burst out with:
“Well, of all the mean, contemptible tricks of a human skunk this is the limit!”
“Bless my hairbrush, but he is a scoundrel!” ejaculated Mr. Damon, with great warmth.
“I’d like to start after him the biggest alligator in the river,” was Ned’s comment.
Professor Bu
mper said nothing for several seconds. There was a strange look on his face, and then he laughed shortly, as though the humor of the situation appealed to him.
“Professor Beecher has more gumption than I gave him credit for,” he said. “It was a clever trick!”
“Trick!” cried Tom.
“Yes. I can’t exactly agree that it was the right thing to do, but he, or some friend acting for him, seems to have taken precautions that we are not to suffer or lose money. Beecher goes on the theory that all is fair in love and war, I suppose, and he may call this a sort of scientific war.”
Ned wondered, as he looked at his chum, how much love there was in it. Clearly Beecher was determined to get that idol of gold.
“Well, it can’t be helped, and we must make the best of it,” said Tom, after a pause.
“True. But now, boys, let’s have breakfast, and then we’ll make what goods we can’t take with us as snug as possible, until we can send the mule drivers after them,” went on Professor Bumper.
“Send the mule drivers after them?” questioned Ned. “What do you mean to do?”
“Do? Why keep on, of course. You don’t suppose I’m going to let a little thing like this stand between me and the discovery of Kurzon and the idol of gold, do you?”
“But,” began Mr. Damon, “I don’t see how—”
“Oh, we’ll find a way,” interrupted Tom. “It isn’t the first time I’ve been pretty well stranded on an expedition of this kind, and sometimes from the same cause—the actions of a rival. Now we’ll turn the tables on the other fellows and see how they like it. The professor’s right—let’s have breakfast. Jacinto seems to have told the truth. Nothing of ours is missing.”
Tom and Ned got the meal, and then a consultation was held as to what was best to be done.
“We can’t go on any further by water, that’s sure,” said Tom. “In the first place the river is too shallow, and secondly we have no canoes. So the only thing is to go on foot through the jungle.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 250
