The man, startled and alarmed, shrank back and was about to run into the jungle whence he had emerged. Small wonder if he had, considering the reception he so unwittingly met with. But Tom. aware of the necessity for making inquiries of one who knew that part of the jungle, quickly called to him.
“Hold on!” he shouted. “Wait a minute. I didn’t mean that. I thought at first you were a tapir or a tiger. No harm intended. I say, Professor,” Tom called back to the savant, “you’d
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better speak to him in his lingo, I can’t manage it. He may be useful in guiding us to that Indian village Jacinto told us of.”
This Professor Bumper did, being able to make himself understood in the queer part-Spanish dialect used by the native Hondurians, though he could not, of course, speak it as fluently as had Jacinto.
Professor Bumper had made only a few remarks to the man who had so unexpectedly appeared out of the jungle when the scientist gave an exclamation of surprise at some of the answers made.
“Bless my moving picture!” cried Mr. Damon.
“What’s the matter now? Is anything wrong? Does he refuse to help us?”
“No, it isn’t that,” was the answer. “In fact he came here to help us. Tom, this is the brother of the Indian who fell overboard and who was eaten by the alligators. He says you were very kind to try to save his brother with your rifle, and for that reason he has come back to help us.”
“Come back?” queried Tom.
“Yes, he went off with the rest of the Indians when Jacinto deserted us, but he could not stand being a traitor, after you had tried to save his brother’s life. These Indians are queer people.