n, as on the day when he first broached the subject, he reviewed all
that is known to the white race concerning the buried cities of Central
America and of the descendants of that mighty race of people whose once
high state of civilization cannot be questioned. When he concluded Jake
indulged in but one remark before composing himself for slumber:

"It don't make any difference to me whether the inscriptions can ever be
read or not; but a fellow feels sore to think that he had a chance of
scoopin' in enough to set himself up in great shape, an' was prevented
when the precious metal was under his very fingers."

"Have you any particular reason for going to Progresso?" Neal asked
after a pause.

"I have most decidedly. Since getting you in a scrape which nearly cost
your lives, it is only right I should see you homeward bound."

"Couldn't we find our way alone?"

"That would be impossible even for me. Poyor is the only guide, and when
he has done his work you sail on the steamer, while he and I return to
the little hut, there to wait for another opportunity of getting inside
the Silver City."

After this Cummings appeared disinclined to talk any more, and the boys
lay down near Jake for the slumber which both needed so badly.

Although their eyelids were heavy with sleep, it was not possible to
lose consciousness immediately. Now their safety was in a measure
assured, the thoughts of Cummings' great disappointment, and the lost
opportunity of making themselves famous, came to mind more forcibly than
ever before, causing both to remain awake after all save Poyor were
breathing heavily.

"This won't do," Teddy said half to himself. "The mysteries of the
Silver City are not to be solved by us, and the sooner we go to sleep
the better condition we shall be in for to-morrow's tramp."

Before Neal could reply the Indian stole softly toward them and
whispered:

"If you would see the father of serpents, sit up and look toward the
spring; but make no noise."

The boys did as they were directed and could distinguish by the glare of
the camp-fires the largest snake either had ever seen.

It was a boa, moving lazily toward the water course as if conscious that
its own wonderful strength was sufficient to enable it to cope
successfully with all enemies.

Before it was possible to form any estimate as to the serpent's size
another stranger appeared on the scene, causing Poyor to raise his gun
ready to shoot.

This vis