Tom Swift in the Land of Wonders

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Meanwhile the surprise occasioned by the
unexpected meeting of their rivals seemed to have
spread something like consternation among the
white members of the Beecher party. As for the
natives they evidently did not care one way or
the other.

There was a hasty consultation among the
professors accompanying Mr. Beecher, and then the
latter himself advanced toward the tents of Tom
and his friends and asked:

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't see that we are called upon to answer
that question," replied Professor Bumper stiffly.

"Perhaps not, and yet----"

"There is no perhaps about it!" said Professor
Bumper quickly. "I know what your object is,
as I presume you do mine. And, after what
I may term your disgraceful and unsportsmanlike
conduct toward me and my friends, I prefer
not to have anything further to do with you.
We must meet as strangers hereafter."

"Very well," and Professor Beecher's voice was
as cold and uncompromising as was his rival's.
"Let it be as your wish. But I must say I don't
know what you mean by unsportsmanlike conduct."

"An explanation would be wasted on you,"
said Professor Bumper stiffly. "But in order that
you may know I fully understand what you did
I will say that your efforts to thwart us through
your tool Jacinto came to nothing. We are here
ahead of you."

"Jacinto!" cried Professor Beecher in real or
simulated surprise. "Why, he was not my `tool,'
as you term it."

"Your denial is useless in the light of his
confession," asserted Professor Bumper.

"Confession?"

"Now look here!" exclaimed the older
professor, "I do not propose to lower myself by
quarreling with you. I know certainly what
you and your party tried to do to prevent us
from getting here. But we got out of the trap
you set for us, and we are on the ground first.
I recognize your right to make explorations as
well as ourselves, and I presume you have not
fallen so low that you will not recognize the
unwritten law in a case of this kind--the law
which says the right of discovery belongs to the
one who first makes it."

"I shall certainly abide by such conduct as
is usual under the circumstances," said
Professor Beecher more stiffly than before.
"At the same time I must deny having set a trap.
And as for Jacinto----"

"It will be useless to discuss it further!"
broke in Professor Bumper.

"Then no more need be said," retorted the
younger man. "I shall give orders to my friends,
as well as to the natives, to keep away from
your camp, and I shall expect you to do the
same regarding mine."

"I should have suggested the same thing
myself," came from Tom's friend, and the two rival
scientists fairly glared at one another, the others
of both parties looking on with interest.

Professor Bumper turned and walked defiantly
back to his tent. Professor Beecher did the same
thing. Then, after a short consultation among
the white members of the latter's organization,
their tents were set up in another clearing,
removed and separated by a screen of trees and
bushes from those of Tom Swift's friends. The
natives of the Beecher party also withdrew a little
way from those of Professor Bumper's organization,
and then preparations for spending the
night in the jungle went on in the rival
headquarters.

"Well, he certainly had nerve, to deny, practically,
that he had set Jacinto up to do what he did," commented Tom.

"I should say so!" agreed Ned.

"How do you imagine he got here nearly as
soon as we did, when he did not start until
later?" asked Mr. Damon.

"He did not have the unfortunate experience
of being deserted in the jungle," replied Tom.
"He probably had Jacinto, or some of that
unprincipled scoundrel's friends, show him a short
route to Copan and he came on from there."

"Well, I did hope we might have the ground
to ourselves, at least for the preliminary explorations
and excavations. But it is not to be. My
rival is here," sighed Professor Bumper.

"Don't let that discourage you!" exclaimed Tom.
"We can fight all the better now the foe
is in the open, and we know where he is."

"Yes, Tom Swift, that is true," agreed the
scientist. "I am not going to give up, but I
shall have to change my plans a little. Perhaps
you will come into the tent with me," and he
nodded to Tom and Ned. "I want to talk over
certain matters with you and Mr. Damon."

"Pleased to," assented the young inventor, and
his financial secretary nodded.

A little later, supper having been eaten, the
camp made shipshape and the natives settled
down, Tom, Ned, Mr. Damon and Professor
Bumper assembled in the tent of the scientist,
where a dry battery lamp gave sufficient illumination
to show a number of maps and papers scattered
over an improvised table.

"Now, gentlemen," said the professor, "I have
called you here to go over my plans more in
detail than I have hitherto done, now we are on
the ground. You know in a general way what
I hope to accomplish, but the time has come
when I must be specific.

"Aside from being on the spot, below which,
or below the vicinity where, I believe, lies the
lost city of Kurzon and, I hope, the idol of gold,
a situation has arisen--an unexpected situation,
I may say--which calls for different action from
that I had counted on.

"I refer to the presence of my rival, Professor
Beecher. I will not dwell now on what he has
done. It is better to consider what he may do."

"That's right," agreed Ned. "He may get up in
the night, dig up this city and skip with that
golden image before we know it."

"Hardly," grinned Tom.

"No," said Professor Bumper. "Excavating
buried cities in the jungle of Honduras is not
as simple as that. There is much work to be
done. But accidents may happen, and in case
one should occur to me, and I be unable to prosecute
the search, I want one of you to do it. For
that reason I am going to show you the maps
and ancient documents and point out to you
where I believe the lost city lies. Now, if you
will give me your attention, I'll proceed."

The professor went over in detail the story
of how he had found the old documents relating
to the lost city of Kurzon, and of how, after
much labor and research, he had located the
city in the Copan valley. The great idol of
gold was one of the chief possessions of Kurzon,
and it was often referred to in the old
papers; copies and translations of which the
professor had with him.

"But this is the most valuable of all," he said,
as he opened an oiled-silk packet. "And before
I show it to you, suppose you two young men
take a look outside the tent."

"What for?" asked Mr. Damon.

"To make sure that no emissaries from the
Beecher crowd are sneaking around to overhear
what we say," was the somewhat bitter answer
of the scientist. "I do not trust him, in spite
of his attempted denial."

Tom and Ned took a quick but thorough
observation outside the tent. The blackness of the
jungle night was in strange contrast to the light
they had just left.

"Doesn't seem to be any one around here,"
remarked Ned, after waiting a minute or two.

"No. All's quiet along the Potomac. Those
Beecher natives are having some sort of a song-
fest, though."

In the distance, and from the direction of their
rivals' camp, came the weird chant.

"Well, as long as they stay there we'll be all
right," said Tom. "Come on in. I'm anxious to
hear what the professor has to say."

"Everything's quiet," reported Ned.

"Then give me your attention," begged the
scientist.

Carefully, as though about to exhibit some,
precious jewel, he loosened the oiled-silk wrappings
and showed a large map, on thin but tough
paper.

"This is drawn from the old charts," the
professor explained. "I worked on it many months,
and it is the only copy in the world. If it were
to be destroyed I should have to go all the way
back to New York to make another copy. I have
the original there in a safe deposit vault."

"Wouldn't it have been wise to make two
copies?" asked Tom.

"It would have only increased the risk. With
one copy, and that constantly in my possession,
I can be sure of my ground. Otherwise not.
That is why I am so careful of this. Now I will
show you why I believe we are about over the
ancient city of Kurzon."

"Over it!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my
gunpowder! What do you mean?" and he looked
down at the earthen floor of the tent as though
expecting it to open and swallow him.

"I mean that the city, like many others of
Central and South America, is buried below the
refuse of centuries," went on the professor.
"Very soon, if we are fortunate, we shall be
looking on the civilization of hundreds of years
ago--how long no one knows.

"Considerable excavation has been done in
Central America," went on Professor Bumper,
"and certain ruins have been brought to light.
Near us are those of Copan, while toward the
frontier are those of Quirigua, which are even
better preserved than the former. We may visit
them if we have time. But I have reason to
believe that in this section of Copan is a large
city, the existence of which has not been made
certain of by any one save myself--and, perhaps,
Professor Beecher.

"Certainly no part of it has seen the light of
day for many centuries. It shall be our pleasure
to uncover it, if possible, and secure the idol of
gold."

"How long ago do you think the city was
buried?" asked Tom.

"It would be hard to say. From the carvings
and hieroglyphics I have studied it would seem
that the Mayan civilization lasted about five
hundred years, and that it began perhaps in the
year A. D. five hundred."

"That would mean," said Mr. Damon, "that
the ancient cities were in ruins, buried, perhaps,
long before Columbus discovered the new
world."

"Yes," assented the professor. "Probably
Kurzon, which we now seek, was buried deep for
nearly five hundred years before Columbus landed
at San Salvadore. The specimens of writing and
architecture heretofore disclosed indicate that.
But, as a matter of fact, it is very hard to
decipher the Mayan pictographs. So far, little but
the ability to read their calendars and numerical
system is possessed by us, though we are gradually
making headway.

"Now this is the map of the district, and by the
markings you can see where I hope to find what
I seek. We shall begin digging here," and he
made a small mark with a pencil on the map.

"Of course," the professor explained, "I may be
wrong, and it will take some time to discover the
error if we make one. When a city is buried thirty
or forty feet deep beneath earth and great trees
have grown over it, it is not easy to dig down to it."

"How do you ever expect to find it?" asked Ned.

"Well, we will sink shafts here and there. If
we find carved stones, the remains of ancient
pottery and weapons, parts of buildings or building
stones, we shall know we are on the right
track," was the answer. "And now that I have
shown you the map, and explained how valuable
it is, I will put it away again. We shall begin
our excavations in the morning."

"At what point?" asked Tom.

"At a point I shall indicate after a further
consultation of the map. I must see the configuration
of the country by daylight to decide.
And now let's get some rest. We have had a
hard day."

The two tents housing the four white members
of the Bumper party were close together,
and it was decided that the night would be divided
into four watches, to guard against possible
treachery on the part of the Beecher crowd.

"It seems an unkind precaution to take against
a fellow scientist," said Professor Bumper, "but
I can not afford to take chances after what has
occurred."

The others agreed with him, and though standing
guard was not pleasant it was done. However
the night passed without incident, and then
came morning and the excitement of getting
breakfast, over which the Indians made merry.
They did not like the cold and darkness, and
always welcomed the sun, no matter how hot.

"And now," cried Tom, when the meal was
over, "let us begin the work that has brought us
here."

"Yes," agreed Professor Bumper, "I will
consult the map, and start the diggers where I think
the city lies, far below the surface. Now, gentlemen,
if you will give me your attention----"

He was seeking through his outer coat pockets,
after an ineffectual search in the inner one. A
strange look came over his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom.

"The map--the map!" gasped the professor.
"The map I was showing you last night! The map
that tells where we are to dig for the idol of gold!
It's gone!"

"The map gone?" gasped Mr. Damon.

"I--I'm afraid so," faltered the professor.
"I put it away carefully, but now----"

He ceased speaking to make a further search
in all his pockets.

"Maybe you left it in another coat," suggested Ned.

"Or maybe some of the Beecher crowd took it!" snapped Tom.

CHAPTER XVIII

"EL TIGRE!"

The four men gazed at one another.
Consternation showed on the face of Professor
Bumper, and was reflected, more or less, on the
countenances of his companions.

"Are you sure the map is gone?" asked Tom.
"I know how easy it is to mislay anything in a
camp of this sort. I couldn't at first find my
safety razor this morning, and when I did locate
it the hoe was in one of my shoes. I'm sure a
rat or some jungle animal must have dragged
it there. Now maybe they took your map,
Professor. That oiled silk in which it was wrapped
might have appealed to the taste of a rat or a
snake."

"It is no joking matter," said Professor
Bumper. "But I know you appreciate the seriousness
of it as much as I do, Tom. But I had the map
in the pocket of this coat, and now it is gone!"

"When did you put it there?" asked Ned.

"This morning, just before I came to breakfast."

"Oh, then you have had it since last night!"
Tom ejaculated.

"Yes, I slept with it under my clothes that I
rolled up for a pillow, and when it was my turn
to stand guard I took it with me. Then I put
it back again and went to sleep. When I awoke
and dressed I put the packet in my pocket and
ate breakfast. Now when I look for it--why,
it's gone!"

"The map or the oiled-silk package?" asked
Mr. Damon, who, once having been a businessman,
was sometimes a stickler for small points.

"Both," answered the professor. "I opened
the silk to tie it more smoothly, so it would not
be such a lump in my pocket, and I made sure
the map was inside."

"Then the whole thing has been taken--or you
have lost it," suggested Ned.

"I am not in the habit of losing valuable maps,"
retorted the scientist. "And the pocket of my
coat I had made deep, for the purpose of carrying
the long map. It could not drop out."

"Well, we mustn't overlook any possible
chances," suggested Tom. "Come on now, we'll
search every inch of the ground over which you
traveled this morning, Professor."

"It MUST be found," murmured the scientist.
"Without it all our work will go for naught."

They all went into the tent where the professor
and Mr. Damon had slept when they were not
on guard. The camp was a busy place, with the
Indians finishing their morning meal, and getting
ready for the work of the day. For word
had been given out that there would be no more
long periods of travel.

In consequence, efforts were being directed by
the head men of the bearers to making a more
permanent camp in the wilderness. Shelters of
palm-thatched huts were being built, a site for
cooking fires made, and, at the direction of Mr.
Damon, to whom this part was entrusted, some
sanitary regulations were insisted on.

Leaving this busy scene, the four, with solemn
faces, proceeded to the tent where it was hoped
the map would be found. But though they went
through everything, and traced and retraced
every place the professor could remember having
traversed about the canvas shelter, no signs of
the important document could be found.

"I don't believe I dropped it out of my pocket,"
said the scientist, for perhaps the twentieth time.

"Then it was taken," declared Tom.

"That's what I say!" chimed in Ned.
"And by some of Beecher's party!"

"Easy, my boy," cautioned Mr. Damon. "We
don't want to make accusations we can't prove."

"That is true," agreed Professor Bumper.
"But, though I am sorry to say it of a fellow
archaelogist, I can not help thinking Beecher
had something to do with the taking of my map."

"But how could any of them get it?" asked Mr. Damon.
"You say you had the map this morning, and certainly
none of them has been in our camp since dawn,
though of course it is possible that some of them
sneaked in during the night."

"It does seem a mystery how it could have
been taken in open daylight, while we were about
camp together," said Tom. "But is the loss
such a grave one, Professor Bumper?"

"Very grave. In fact I may say it is impossible
to proceed with the excavating without the map."

"Then what are we to do?" asked Ned.

"We must get it back!" declared Tom.

"Yes," agreed the scientist, "we can not work
without it. As soon as I make a little further
search, to make sure it could not have dropped
in some out-of-the-way place, I shall go over to
Professor Beecher's camp and demand that he
give me back my property."

"Suppose he says he hasn't taken it?" asked Tom.

"Well, I'm sure he either took it personally,
or one of his party did. And yet I can't understand
how they could have come here without our
seeing them," and the professor shook his head
in puzzled despair.

A more detailed search did not reveal the missing
map, and Mr. Damon and his friend the
scientist were on the point of departing for the
camp of their rivals, less than a mile away, when
Tom had what really amounted to an inspiration.

"Look here, Professor!" he cried. "Can you
remember any of the details of your map--say,
for instance, where we ought to begin excavating
to get at the wonders of the underground city?"

"Well, Tom, I did intend to compare my map
with the configuration of the country about here.
There is a certain mountain which serves as a
landmark and a guide for a starting point. I
think that is it over there," and the scientist
pointed to a distant snow-capped peak.

The party had left the low and marshy land
of the true jungle, and were among the foothills,
though all about them was dense forest and
underbush, which, in reality, was as much a jungle
as the lower plains, but was less wet.

"The point where I believe we should start
to dig," said the professor, "is near the spot
where the top of the mountain casts a shadow
when the sun is one hour high. At least that is
the direction given in the old manuscripts. So,
though we can do little without the map, we
might make a start by digging there."

"No, not there!" exclaimed Tom.

"Why not?"

"Because we don't want to let Beecher's crowd
know that we are on the track of the idol of gold."

"But they know anyhow, for they have the map,"
commented Ned, puzzled by his chum's words.

"Maybe not," said Tom slowly. "I think this
is a time for a big bluff. It may work and it
may not. Beecher's crowd either has the map or
they have not. If they have it they will lose
no time in trying to find the right place to start
digging and then they'll begin excavating.

"Very good! If they do that we have a right
to dig near the same place. But if they have not
the map, which is possible, and if we start to dig
where the professor's memory tells him is the
right spot, we'll only give them the tip, and they'll
dig there also."

"I'm sure they have the map," the professor said.
"But I believe your plan is a good one, Tom."

"Just what do you propose doing?" asked Ned.

"Fooling 'em!" exclaimed Tom quickly. "We'll
dig in some place remote from the spot where the
mountain casts its shadow. They will think, if
they haven't the map, that we are proceeding by
it, and they'll dig, too. When they find nothing,
as will also happen to us, they may go away.

"If, on the other hand, they have the map, and
see us digging at a spot not indicated on it, they
will be puzzled, knowing we must have some idea
of where the buried city lies. They will think
the map is at fault, perhaps, and not make use of
it. Then we can get it back."

"Bless my hatband!" cried Mr. Damon.
"I believe you're right, Tom.
We'll dig in the wrong place to fool 'em."

And this was done. Search for the precious
map was given up for the time being, and the
professor and his friends set the natives to work
digging shafts in the ground, as though sinking
them down to the level of the buried city.

But though this false work was prosecuted with
vigor for several days, there was a feeling of
despair among the Bumper party over the loss of
the map.

"If we could only get it back!" exclaimed the
professor, again and again.

Meanwhile the Beecher party seemed inactive.
True, some members of it did come over to look
on from a respectful distance at what the diggers
were doing. Some of the rival helpers, under
the direction of the head of the expedition, also
began sinking shafts. But they were not in the
locality remembered by Professor Bumper as being
correct.

"I can't imagine what they're up to," he said.
"If they have my map they would act differently,
I should think."

"Whatever they're up to," answered Tom, "the
time has come when we can dig at the place
where we can hope for results." And the following
day shafts were started in the shadow of the
mountain.

Until some evidence should have been obtained
by digging, as to the location beneath the surface
of a buried city, there was nothing for the
travelers to do but wait. Turns were taken in
directing the efforts of the diggers, and an
occasional inspection was made of the shafts.

"What do you expect to find first?" asked Tom
of Professor Bumper one day, when the latter was
at the top of a shaft waiting for a bucket load
of dirt to be hoisted up.

"Potsherds and artifacts," was the answer.

"What sort of bugs are they?" asked Ned with
a laugh. He and Tom were about to go hunting
with their electric rifles.

"Artifacts are things made by the Indians--or
whatever members of the race who built the
ancient cities were called--such as household articles,
vases, ornaments, tools and so on. Anything
made by artificial means is called an artifact."

"And potsherds are things with those Chinese
laundry ticket scratches on them," added Tom.

"Exactly," said the professor, laughing.
"Though some of the strange-appearing inscriptions
give much valuable information. As soon
as we find some of them--say a broken bit of
pottery with hieroglyphics on--I will know I am
on the right track."

And while the scientist and Mr. Damon kept
watch at the top of the shaft, Tom and Ned went
out into the jungle to hunt. They had killed some
game, and were stalking a fine big deer, which
would provide a feast for the natives, when suddenly
the silence of the lonely forest was broken
by a piercing scream, followed by an agonized
cry of

"El tigre! El tigre!"

CHAPTER XIX

POISONED ARROWS

"Did you hear that, Tom?" asked Ned, in a
hoarse whisper.

"Surely," was the cautious answer. "Keep
still, and I'll try for a shot."

"Better be quick," advised Ned in a tense voice.
"The chap who did that yelling seems to be in
trouble!"

And as Ned's voice trailed off into a whisper,
again came the cry, this time in frenzied pain.

"El tigre! El tigre!" Then there was a jumble of words.

"It's over this way!" and this time Ned shouted,
seeing no need for low voices since the other was so loud.

Tom looked to where Ned had parted the
bushes alongside a jungle path. Through the
opening the young inventor saw, in a little glade,
that which caused him to take a firmer grip on his
electric rifle, and also a firmer grip on his nerves.

Directly in front of him and Ned, and not more
than a hundred yards away, was a great tawny
and spotted jaguar--the "tigre" or tiger of Central
America. The beast, with lashing tail, stood
over an Indian upon whom it seemed to have
sprung from some lair, beating the unfortunate
man to the ground. Nor had he fallen scatheless,
for there was blood on the green leaves about
him, and it was not the blood of the spotted
beast.

"Oh, Tom, can you--can you----" and Ned
faltered.

The young inventor understood the unspoken
question.

"I think I can make a shot of it without hitting
the man," he answered, never turning his head.
"It's a question, though, if the beast won't claw
him in the death struggle. It won't last long,
however, if the electric bullet goes to the right
place, and I've got to take the chance."

Cautiously Tom brought his weapon to bear.
Quiet as Ned and he had been after the discovery,
the jaguar seemed to feel that something was
wrong. Intent on his prey, for a time he had
stood over it, gloating. Now the brute glanced
uneasily from side to side, its tail nervously
twitching, and it seemed trying to gain, by a sniffing
of the air, some information as to the direction
in which danger lay, for Tom and Ned had
stooped low, concealing themselves by a screen
of leaves.

The Indian, after his first frenzied outburst
of fear, now lay quiet, as though fearing to move,
moaning in pain.

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