“Blessed if I can tell whether he’s one of our Indians or whether he belongs to the Beecher crowd,” remarked Tom.
“Se�or 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
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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, Se�or,” 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.