Tom Swift in the Land of Wonders

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Suddenly the jaguar, attracted either by some
slight movement on the part of Ned or Tom, or
perhaps by having winded them, turned his head
quickly and gazed with cruel eyes straight at the
spot where the two young men stood behind the
bushes.

"He's seen us," whispered Ned.

"Yes," assented Tom. "And it's a perfect shot.
Hope I don't miss!"

It was not like Tom Swift to miss, nor did he
on this occasion. There was a slight report from
the electric rifle--a report not unlike the crackle
of the wireless--and the powerful projectile sped
true to its mark.

Straight through the throat and chest under
the uplifted jaw of the jaguar it went--through
heart and lungs. Then with a great coughing,
sighing snarl the beast reared up, gave a convulsive
leap forward toward its newly discovered
enemies, and fell dead in a limp heap, just beyond
the native over which it had been crouching before
it delivered the death stroke, now never to fall.

"You did it, Tom! You did it!" cried
Ned, springing up from where he had been kneeling
to give his chum a better chance to shoot.
"You did it, and saved the man's life!" And Ned
would have rushed out toward the still twitching body.

"Just a minute!" interposed Tom. "Those
beasts sometimes have as many lives as a cat.
I'll give it one more for luck." Another electric
projectile through the head of the jaguar produced
no further effect than to move the body
slightly, and this proved conclusively that there
was no life left. It was safe to approach, which
Tom and Ned did.

Their first thought, after a glance at the
jaguar, was for the Indian. It needed but a brief
examination to show that he was not badly hurt.
The jaguar had leaped on him from a low tree
as he passed under it, as the boys learned afterward,
and had crushed the man to earth by the
weight of the spotted body more than by a stroke
of the paw.

The American jaguar is not so formidable a
beast as the native name of tiger would cause
one to suppose, though they are sufficiently dan-
gerous, and this one had rather badly clawed the
Indian. Fortunately the scratches were on the
fleshy parts of the arms and shoulders, where,
though painful, they were not necessarily serious.

"But if you hadn't shot just when you did, Tom,
it would have been all up with him," commented
Ned.

"Oh, well, I guess you'd have hit him if I
hadn't," returned the young inventor. "But let's
see what we can do for this chap."

The man sat up wonderingly--hardly able to
believe that he had been saved from the dreaded
"tigre." His wounds were bleeding rather freely,
and as Tom and Ned carried with them a first-aid
kit they now brought it into use. The wounds
were bound up, the man was given water to
drink and then, as he was able to walk, Tom and
Ned offered to help him wherever he wanted to
go.

"Blessed if I can tell whether he's one of our
Indians or whether he belongs to the Beecher
crowd," remarked Tom.

"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. "These natives can doctor themselves for
some things, better than we can."

"Well, we'll take him home," suggested Tom.
"He might keel over from loss of blood.
Come on," he added to Tal, indicating his object.

It was not far to the native's hut from the place
where the jaguar had been killed, and there Tom
and Ned underwent another demonstration of affection
as soon as those of Tal's immediate family and the
other natives understood what had happened.

"I hate this business!" complained Tom, after
having been knelt to by the Indian's wife and
child, who called him the "preserver" and other
endearing titles of the same kind. "Come on,
let's hike back."

But Indian hospitality, especially after a life
has been saved, is not so simple as all that.

"My life--my house--all that I own is yours,"
said Tal in deep gratitude. "Take everything,"
and he waved his hand to indicate all the possessions
in his humble hut.

"Thanks," answered Tom, "but I guess you
need all you have. That's a fine specimen of
blow gun though," he added, seeing one hanging
on the wall. "I wouldn't mind having one like
that. If you get well enough to make me one,
Tal, and some arrows to go with it, I'd like it
for a curiosity to hang in my room at home."

"The Senor shall have a dozen," promised the
Indian.

"Look, Ned," went on Tom, pointing to the
native weapon. "I never saw one just like this.
They use small arrows or darts, tipped with wild
cotton, instead of feathers."

"These the arrows," explained Tal's wife,
bringing a bundle from a corner of the one-room
hut. As she held them out her husband gave a
cry of fear.

"Poisoned arrows! Poisoned arrows!" he exclaimed.
"One scratch and the senors are dead men. Put them away!"

In fear the Indian wife prepared to obey, but
as she did so Tom Swift caught sight of the package
and uttered a strange cry.

"Thundering hoptoads, Ned!" he exclaimed.
"The poisoned arrows are wrapped in the piece of oiled
silk that was around the professor's missing map!"

CHAPTER XX

AN OLD LEGEND

Fascinated, Tom and Ned gazed at the package
the Indian woman held out to them. Undoubtedly
it was oiled silk on the outside, and through
the almost transparent covering could be seen
the small arrows, or darts, used in the blow gun.

"Where did you get that?" asked Tom, pointing
to the bundle and gazing sternly at Tal.

"What is the matter, Senor?" asked the Indian in turn.
"Is it that you are afraid of the poisoned arrows?
Be assured they will not harm you unless
you are scratched by them."

Tom and Ned found it difficult to comprehend
all the rapid Spanish spoken by their host, but
they managed to understand some, and his
eloquent gestures made up the rest.

"We're not afraid," Tom said, noting that the
oiled skin well covered the dangerous darts. "But
where did you get that?"

"I picked it up, after another Indian had thrown
it away. He got it in your camp, Senor. I
will not lie to you. I did not steal. Valdez
went to your camp to steal--he is a bad Indian--
and he brought back this wrapping. It contained
something he thought was gold, but it was
not, so he----"

"Quick! Yes! Tell us!" demanded Tom
eagerly. "What did he do with the professor's
map that was in the oiled silk? Where is it?"

"Oh, Senors!" exclaimed the Indian woman,
thinking perhaps her husband was about to be
dealt harshly with when she heard Tom's
excited voice. "Tal do no harm!"

"No, he did no harm," went on Tom, in a
reassuring tone. "But he can do a whole lot of good
if he tells us what became of the map that was in
this oiled silk. Where is it?" he asked again.

"Valdez burn it up," answered Tal.

"What, burned the professor's map?" cried Ned.

"If that was in this yellow cloth--yes,"
answered the injured man. "Valdez he is bad. He
say to me he is going to your camp to see what
he can take. How he got this I know not, but
he come back one morning with the yellow pack-
age. I see him, but he make me promise not
to tell. But you save my life I tell you everything.

"Valdez open the package; but it is not gold,
though he think so because it is yellow, and the
man with no hair on his head keep it in his pocket
close, so close," and Tal hugged himself to indicate
what he meant.

"That's Professor Bumper," explained Ned.

"How did Valdez get the map out of the
professor's coat?" asked Tom.

"Valdez he very much smart. When man
with no hair on his head take coat off for a
minute to eat breakfast Valdez take yellow thing
out of pocket."

"The Indian must have sneaked into camp
when we were eating," said Tom. "Those from
Beecher's party and our workers look all alike
to us. We wouldn't know one from the other,
and one of our rival's might slip in."

"One evidently did, if this is really the piece of
oiled silk that was around the professor's map,"
said Ned.

"It certainly is the same," declared the young
inventor. "See, there is his name," and he
stretched out his hand to point.

"Don't touch!" cried Tal. "Poisoned arrows
snake poison--very dead-like and quick."

"Don't worry, I won't touch," said Tom grimly.
"But go on. You say Valdez sneaked into our
camp, took the oiled-silk package from the coat
pocket of Professor Bumper and went back to
his own camp with it, thinking it was gold."

"Yes," answered Tal, though it is doubtful if
he understood all that Tom said, as it was half
Spanish and half English. But the Indian knew
a little English, too. "Valdez, when he find no
gold is very mad. Only papers in the yellow
silk-papers with queer marks on. Valdez think
it maybe a charm to work evil, so he burn them
up--all up!"

"Burned that rare map!" gasped Tom.

"All in fire," went on Tal, indicating by his
hands the play of flames. "Valdez throw away
yellow silk, and I take for my arrows so rain not
wash off poison. I give to you, if you like, with
blow gun."

"No, thank you," answered Tom, in disappointed
tones. "The oiled silk is of no use without
the map, and that's gone. Whew! but this is
tough!" he said to his chum. "As long as it was
only stolen there was a chance to get it back,
but if it's burned, the jig is up."

"It looks so," agreed Ned. "We'd better get
back and tell the professor. It he can't get along
without the map it's time he started a movement
toward getting another. So it wasn't Beecher,
after all, who got it."

"Evidently not," assented Tom. "But I
believe him capable of it."

"You haven't much use for him," remarked Ned.

"Huh!" was all the answer given by his chum.

"I am sorry, Senors," went on Tal, "but I
could not stop Valdez, and the burning of the
papers----"

"No, you could not help it," interrupted the
young inventor. "But it just happens that it
brings bad luck to us. You see, Tal, the papers
in this yellow covering, told of an old buried
city that the bald-headed professor--the-man-
with-no-hair-on-his-head--is very anxious to
discover. It is somewhere under the ground," and
he waved to the jungle all about them, pointing
earthwards.

"Paper Valdez burn tell of lost city?" asked
Tal, his face lighting up.

"Yes. But now, of course, we can't tell where
to dig for it."

The Indian turned to his wife and talked rapidly
with her in their own dialect. She, too, seemed
greatly excited, making quick gestures. Finally
she ran out of the hut.

"Where is she going?" asked Tom suspiciously.

"To get her grandfather. He very old Indian.
He know story of buried cities under trees. Very
old story--what you call legend, maybe. But
Goosal know. He tell same as his grandfather
told him. You wait. Goosal come, and you listen."

"Good, Ned!" suddenly cried Tom. "Maybe,
we'll get on the track of lost Kurzon after all,
through some ancient Indian legend. Maybe we
won't need the map!"

"It hardly seems possible," said Ned slowly.
"What can these Indians know of buried cities
that were out of existence before Columbus came
here? Why, they haven't any written history."

"No, and that may be just the reason they are
more likely to be right," returned Tom. "Legends
handed down from one grandfather to another
go back a good many hundred years. If
they were written they might be destroyed as
the professor's map was. Somehow or other,
though I can't tell why, I begin to see daylight
ahead of us."

"I wish I did," remarked Ned.

"Here comes Goosal I think," murmured Tom,
and he pointed to an Indian, bent with the weight
of years, who, led by Tal's wife, was slowly
approaching the hut.

CHAPTER XXI

THE CAVERN

"Now Goosal can tell you," said Tal, evidently
pleased that he had, in a measure, solved the
problem caused by the burning of the professor's
map. "Goosal very old Indian. He know old
stories--legends--very old."

"Well, if he can tell us how to find the buried
city of Kurzon and the--the things in it," said
Tom, "he's all right!"

The aged Indian proceeded slowly toward the
hut where the impatient youths awaited him.

"I know what you seek in the buried city,"
remarked Tal.

"Do you?" cried Tom, wondering if some one
had indiscreetly spoken of the idol of gold.

"Yes you want pieces of rock, with strange
writings on them, old weapons, broken pots.
I know. I have helped white men before."

"Yes, those are the things we want," agreed
Tom, with a glance at his chum. "That is--some
of them. But does your wife's grandfather talk
our language?"

"No, but I can tell you what he says."

By this time the old man, led by "Mrs. Tal"--
as the young men called the wife of the Indian
they had helped--entered the hut. He seemed
nervous and shy, and glanced from Tom and Ned
to his grandson-in-law, as the latter talked rapidly
in the Indian dialect. Then Goosal made answer,
but what it was all about the boys could
not tell.

"Goosal say," translated Tal, "that he know a
story of a very old city away down under ground."

"Tell us about it!" urged Tom eagerly.

But a difficulty very soon developed. Tal's
intentions were good, but he was not equal to
the task of translating. Nor was the understanding
of Tom and Ned of Spanish quite up to the mark.

"Say, this is too much for me!" exclaimed Tom.
"We are losing the most valuable part of this by
not understanding what Goosal says, and what
Tal translates."

"What can we do?" asked Ned.

"Get the professor here as soon as possible.
He can manage this dialect, and he'll get the
information at first hand. If Goosal can tell
where to begin excavating for the city he ought
to tell the professor, not us."

"That's right," agreed Ned. "We'll bring the
professor here as soon as we can."

Accordingly they stopped the somewhat difficult
task of listening to the translated story and
told Tal, as well as they could, that they would
bring the "man-with-no-hair-on-his-head" to
listen to the tale.

This seemed to suit the Indians, all of whom
in the small colony appeared to be very grateful
to Tom and Ned for having saved the life of
Tal.

"That was a good shot you made when you
bowled over the jaguar," said Ned, as the two
young explorers started back to their camp.

"Better than I realized, if it leads to the discovery
of Kurzon and the idol of gold," remarked Tom.

"And to think we should come across the oiled-
silk holding the poisoned arrows!" went on Ned.
"That's the strangest part of the whole affair.
If it hadn't been that you shot the jaguar this
never would have come about."

That Professor Bumper was astonished, and
Mr. Damon likewise, when they heard the story
of Tom and Ned, is stating it mildly.

"Come on!" exclaimed the scientist, as Tom
finished, "we must see this Goosal at once.
If my map is destroyed, and it seems to be,
this old Indian may be our only hope.
Where did he say the buried city was, Tom?"

"Oh, somewhere in this vicinity, as nearly as
I could make out. But you'd better talk with
him yourself. We didn't say anything about the
idol of gold."

"That's right. It's just as well to let the
natives think we are only after ordinary relics."

"Bless my insurance policy!" gasped Mr. Damon.
"It does not seem possible that we are on
the right track."

"Well, I think we are, from what little information
Goosal gave us," remarked Tom. "This buried city
of his must be a wonderful place."

"It is, if it is what I take it to be," agreed the
professor. "I told you I would bring you to a
land of wonders, Tom Swift, and they have hardly
begun yet. Come, I am anxious to talk to Goosal."

In order that the Indians in the Bumper camp
might not hear rumors of the new plan to locate
the hidden city, and, at the same time, to keep
rumors from spreading to the camp of the rivals,
the scientist and his friends started a new shaft,
and put a shift of men at work on it.

"We'll pretend we are on the right track, and
very busy," said Tom. "That will fool Beecher."

"Are you glad to know he did not take your
map Professor Bumper?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Well, yes. It is hard to believe such things of
a fellow scientist."

"If he didn't take it he wanted to," said Tom.
"And he has done, or will do, things as unsportsmanlike."

"Oh, you are hardly fair, perhaps, Tom,"
commented Ned.

"Um!" was all the answer he received.

With the Indians in camp busy on the excavation
work, and having ascertained that similar
work was going on in the Beecher outfit,
Professor Bumper, with Mr. Damon and the young
men, set off to visit the Indian village and listen
to Goosal's story. They passed the place where
Tom had slain the jaguar, but nothing was left
but the bones; the ants, vultures and jungle animals
having picked them clean in the night.

On the arrival of Tom and his friends at the
Indian's hut, Goosal told, in language which
Professor Bumper could understand, the ancient
legend of the buried city as he had had it from his
grandfather.

"But is that all you know about it, Goosal?"
asked the savant.

"No, Learned One. It is true most of what I
have told you was told to me by my father and
his father's father. But I--I myself--with these
eyes, have looked upon the lost city."

"You have!" cried the professor, this time in
English. "Where? When? Take us to it!
How do you get here?"

"Through the cavern of the dead," was the
answer when the questions were modified.

"Bless my diamond ring!" exclaimed Mr.
Damon, when Professor Bumper translated the reply.
"What does he mean?"

And then, after some talk, this information
came out. Years before, when Goosal was a
young man, he had been taken by his grandfather
on a journey through the jungle. They
stopped one day at the foot of a high mountain,
and, clearing away the brush and stones at a
certain place, an entrance to a great cavern was
revealed. This, it appeared, was the Indian burial
ground, and had been used for generations.

Goosal, though in fear and trembling, was lead
through it, and came to another cavern, vaster
than the first. And there he saw strange and
wonderful sights, for it was the remains of a buried
city, that had once been the home of a great
and powerful tribe unlike the Indians--the ancient
Mayas it would seem.

"Can you take us to this cavern?" asked the professor.

"Yes," answered Goosal. "I will lead to it
those who saved the life of Tal--them and their
friends. I will take you to the lost city!"

"Good!" cried Mr. Damon, when this had been
translated. "Now let Beecher try to play any
more tricks on us! Ho! for the cavern and the
lost city of Kurzon."

"And the idol of gold," said Tom Swift to
himself. "I hope we can get it ahead of Beecher.
Perhaps if I can help in that--Oh, well, here's hoping,
that's all!" and a little smile curved his lips.

Greatly excited by the strange news, but
maintaining as calm an air outwardly as possible, so
as not to excite the Indians, Tom and his friends
returned to camp to prepare for their trip. Goosal
had said the cavern lay distant more than a two-
days' journey into the jungle.

CHAPTER XXII

THE STORM

"Now," remarked Tom, once they were back
again in their camp, "we must go about this trip
to the cavern in a way that will cause no suspicion
over there as to what our object is," and he
nodded in the direction of the quarters of his
rival.

"Do you mean to go off quietly?" asked Ned.

"Yes. And to keep the work going on here,
at these shafts," put in the scientist, "so that
if any of their spies happen to come here they
will think we still believe the buried city to be
just below us. To that end we must keep the
Indians digging, though I am convinced now that
it is useless."

Accordingly preparations were made for an
expedition into the jungle under the leadership of
Goosal. Tal had not sufficiently recovered from
the jaguar wounds to go with the party, but the
old man, in spite of his years, was hale and hearty
and capable of withstanding hardships.

One of the most intelligent of the Indians was
put in charge of the digging gangs as foreman,
and told to keep them at work, and not to let
them stray. Tolpec, whose brother Tom had
tried to save, proved a treasure. He agreed to
remain behind and look after the interests of his
friends, and see that none of their baggage or
stores were taken.

"Well, I guess we're as ready as we ever
shall be," remarked Tom, as the cavalcade made
ready to start. Mules carried the supplies that
were to be taken into the jungle, and others of
the sturdy animals were to be ridden by the
travelers. The trail was not an easy one, Goosal
warned them.

Tom and his friends found it even worse than
they had expected, for all their experience in
jungle and mountain traveling. In places it was
necessary to dismount and lead the mules along,
sometimes pushing and dragging them. More
than once the trail fairly hung on the edge of
some almost bottomless gorge, and again it
wound its way between great walls of rock,
so poised that they appeared about to topple
over and crush the travelers. 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.

Bruin was quite dead, and as he was in prime
condition there was a feast of bear meat at the
following dinner. The white travelers found it
rather too strong for their palates, but the Indians
reveled in it.

It was shortly after noon the next day, when
Goosal, after remarking that a storm seemed
brewing, announced that they would be at the
entrance to the cavern in another hour.

"Good!" cried Professor Bumper. "At last
we are near the buried city."

"Don't be too sure," advised Mr. Damon,
"We may be disappointed. Though I hope not
for your sake, my dear Professor."

Goosal now took the lead, and the old Indian,
traveling on foot, for he said he could better look
for the old landmark that way than on the back
of a mule, walked slowly along a rough cliff.

"Here. somewhere, is the entrance to the cav-
ern," said the aged man. "It was many years
ago that I was here--many years. But it seems
as though yesterday. It is little changed."

Indeed little did change in that land of wonders.
Only nature caused what alterations there were.
The hand of man had long been absent.

Slowly Goosal walked along the rocky trail,
on one side a sheer rock, towering a hundred feet
or more toward the sky. On the other side a
deep gash leading to a great fertile valley below.

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