“Yes, it is,” broke in Professor Bumper.  “But what if it is?  We might as well trust him, and if he proves true, as I believe he will, we’ll be so much better off.  If he proves a traitor we’ll only have lost a few days, for if he doesn’t come back we can go on again in the way we started.”

“But that’s just it!” complained Tom.  “We don’t want to lose any time with that Beecher chap on our trail.”

“I am not so very much concerned about him,” remarked Professor Bumper, dryly.

“Why not?” snapped out Mr. Damon.

“Well, because I think he’ll have just about as hard work locating the hidden city, and finding the idol of gold, as we’ll have.  In other words it will be an even thing, unless he gets too far ahead of us, or keeps us back, and I don’t believe he can do that now.

“So I thought it best to take a chance with this Indian.  He would hardly have taken the trouble to come all the way back, and run the risks he did, just to delay us a few days.  However, we’ll soon know.  Meanwhile, we’ll take it easy and wait for the return of Tolpec and his friends.”

Though none of them liked to admit it, Ned’s words had caused his three friends some anxiety, and though they busied themselves about the camp there was an air of waiting impatiently for something to occur.  And waiting is about the hardest work there is.

But there was nothing for it but to wait, and it might be at least a week, Professor Bumper said, before the Indian could return with a party of porters and mules to move their baggage.

“Yes, Tolpec has not only to locate the settlement,” Tom admitted, “but he must persuade the natives to come back with him.  He may have trouble in that, especially if it is known that he has left Jacinto, who, I imagine, is a power among the tribes here.”

But there were only two things left to do—­wait and hope.  The travelers did both.  Four days passed and there was no sign of Tolpec.  Eager-ly, 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.