ehind and look after the interests of
his friends, and see that none of their baggage or stores were taken.

"Well, I guess we're as ready as we ever shall be," remarked Tom, as
the cavalcade made ready to start. Mules carried the supplies that
were to be taken into the jungle, and others of the sturdy animals were
to be ridden by the travelers. The trail was not an easy one, Goosal
warned them.

Tom and his friends found it even worse than they had expected, for all
their experience in jungle and mountain traveling. In places it was
necessary to dismount and lead the mules along, sometimes pushing and
dragging them. More than once the trail fairly hung on the edge of
some almost bottomless gorge, and again it wound its way between great
walls of rock, so poised that they appeared about to topple over and
crush the travelers. But they kept on with dogged patience, through
many hardships.

To add to their troubles they seemed to have entered the abode of the
fiercest mosquitoes encountered since coming to Honduras. At times it
was necessary to ride along with hats covered with mosquito netting,
and hands encased in gloves.

They had taken plenty of condensed food with them, and they did not
suffer in this respect. Game, too, was plentiful and the electric
rifles of Tom and Ned added to the larder.

One night, after a somewhat sound sleep induced by hard travel on the
trail that day, Tom awoke to hear some one or something moving about
among their goods, which included their provisions.

"Who's there?" asked the young inventor sharply, as he reached for his
electric rifle.

There was no answer, but a rattling of the pans.

"Speak, or I'll fire!" Tom warned, adding this in such Spanish as he
could muster, for he thought it might be one of the Indians. No reply
came, and then, seeing by the light of the stars a dark form moving in
front of the tent occupied by himself and Ned, Tom fired.

There was a combined grunt and squeal of pain, then a savage growl, and
Ned yelled:

"What's the matter, Tom?" for he had been awakened, and heard the
crackle of the electrical discharge.

"I don't know," Tom answered. "But I shot something--or somebody!"

"Maybe some of Beecher's crowd," ventured his chum. But when they got
their electric torches, and focused them on the inert, black object, it
was found to be a bear which had come to nose about the camp for dainty
morsels.

Bruin was quite dead, and as he was i