“I say, when are we going to eat?” asked Bob. “I know it’s long past noon.”
“Wrong for once, Chunky,” answered Ned, looking at his watch. “It’s only eleven o’clock.”
“Well, here’s a good place to stop and eat, anyhow,” went on the stout lad, to whom eating never came amiss.
“All right, we’ll camp,” put in Jerry, bringing the machine to a stop.
It was rather pleasant in the shade of the forest in spite of the heat, and the boys enjoyed it very much. The gasolene stove was lighted and Ned made some chocolate, for, since their advent into Mexico the travelers had come to like this beverage, which almost every one down in that country drinks. With this and some frijoles and cold chicken brought from the inn, they made a good meal.
“I’m going to hunt for some specimens,” announced the professor. “You boys can rest here for an hour or so.”
With his green collecting box and his butterfly net the naturalist disappeared along a path that led through the forest.
“I suppose he’ll come back with a blue-nosed baboon or a flat-headed gila monster,” said Ned. “He does find the queerest things.”
It was almost an hour later, when the boys were wondering what had become of the naturalist, that they heard faint shouts in the direction he had taken.
“Hurry, boys!” the professor’s voice called. “Hurry! Help! help! I’m caught!”