"Bless my walking stick!" cried Mr. Damon. "Have we really to go into the jungle, Tom?"
"I'm afraid we have, if we want to get any giants, and get a trace of Mr. Poddington."
"All right, I'm game, but I do hope we won't run into a band of fighting natives."
In Rosario it was learned that while the "war" was not regarded seriously from the fact that the fighting tribes were far inland, still it was going on with vigor, and large bands of natives were roaming about, stealing each others' cattle and horses, burning villages, and taking captives.
"I guess we're in for it," remarked Tom grimly. "But I'm not going to back out now."
Unexpected complications, difficulties in the way of getting the right kind of help, and a competent man to take charge of the native drivers, so delayed our friends that it was nearly two weeks after their arrival in Rosario before they could start for the interior.
Of course the object of the expedition was kept a secret, and Tom let it be known that he and his friends were merely exploring, and wanted rare plants, orchids, or anything in that line. The natives were not very curious.
At last the day for the start came. The mules, which had been hired as beasts of burdens, were loaded with boxes or bales on either side, the
