they came upon evidences of a native village. Scattered huts, made of plastered mud and grass, with thatched roofs of palm leaves, were met with, as they advanced, but none of the places seemed to be inhabited, though rude gardens around them showed that they had been the homes of natives up to recently.
"No one seems to be at home," remarked Tom, when they had gone past perhaps half a dozen of these lonely huts.
"I wonder what can be the matter?" asked Ned. "It looks as if they had gone off in a hurry, too. Maybe there's been some sort of epidemic."
"No, no sickness," said San Pedro. "Natives no sick."
"Bless my liver pill!" cried Mr. Damon, who was almost himself again. "Then what is it?"
"Much fight, maybe."
"Much fight?" repeated Tom.
"Yes, tribes at war. Maybe natives go away so as not be killed."
"By Jove!" exclaimed the young inventor.
"That's so. I forgot about what Mr. Preston said. There's a native war going on around here. Well, when we get to the town we can find out more about it, and steer clear of the two armies, if we have to."
