"
"Bless my wishbone!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "You don't think he meant
to use it on us, Tom?"
"Why no? What makes you ask that?"
"Oh, I'm just nervous, I guess," replied the odd man.
But if Mr. Damon could have seen that same half-breed a little
later, as he slipped into a Rosario resort, with the yellow stain
washed from his face, the nervousness of the eccentric gentleman
would have increased. For the man who had been detected with the
revolver muttered to himself:
"Caught! Well, I'll fool 'em next time all right! I thought I could
get away with the pack train, and then it would have been easy to
turn the natives any way I wished, after I had found what I'm
looking for. But I had to go and carry that gun! I never thought
they'd spot it. Well, it's all up now, and if Waydell heard of it
he'd want to fire me. But I'll make good yet. I'll have to adopt
some other disguise, and see if I can't tag along behind."
All unconscious of the plotter they had left back of them, Tom and
his companions pushed on, rapidly leaving such signs of civilization
as were represented by small native towns and villages, and coming
nearer to the jungles and forests that lay between them and the
place where Tom was destined to be made a captive.
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