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and not a little anxiously, they watched the jungle path along which he had disappeared.
“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Tom one morning, when the day seemed a bit cooler than its predecessor. “Let’s go for a hunt, or something! I’m tired of sitting around camp.”
“Bless my watch hands! So am I!” cried Mr. Damon. “Let’s all go for a trip. It will do us good.”
“And perhaps I can get some specimens of interest,” added Professor Bumper, who, in addition to being an archaeologist, was something of a naturalist.
Accordingly, having made everything snug in camp, the party, Tom and Ned equipped with electric rifles, and the professor with a butterfly net and specimen boxes, set forth. Mr. Damon said he would carry a stout club as his weapon.
The jungle, as usual, was teeming with life, but as Ned and Tom did not wish to kill wantonly they refrained from shooting until later in the day. For once it was dead, game did not keep well in that hot climate, and needed to be cooked almost immediately.
“We’ll try some shots on our back trip,” said the young inventor.
Professor Bumper found plenty of his own particular kind of “game” which he caught in the
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net, transferring the specimens to the boxes he carried. There were beautiful butterflies, moths and strange bugs in the securing of which the scientist evinced great delight, though when one beetle nipped him firmly and painfully on his thumb his involuntary cry of pain was as real as that of any other person.