CHAPTER XIV
The Deserted Village
PROFESSOR Bigelow was right. On the shore not far away were a dozen or more native huts, grouped in a cluster about one that was larger and more carefully built. All about on the ground were various objects of daily life, such as wooden machetes, pots and kettles of clay, pieces of wood, and hides and skins of animals. But, strain their eyes as they did, the explorers could see no Indians.
The explorers were uncertain as to whether it would be safe to go ashore, but finally Professor Bigelow resolved to take the chance. He was as excited as a boy, and seemed not able to wait until the boats could be turned to the river bank.
The crew, however, were a bit dubious about the venture into an unknown village. They had heard stories of how explorers had been massacred by savage Indians, and as they had never been far as this upstream, they were at a loss to know how the strange tribe would treat them.
Still if the strange scientist was bound to hazard it they would go, although they would be ready for instant flight if necessary.
The boats were brought up alongside the bank and made secure to small trees. Then the explorers climbed out and looked about.
“An ideal site for a village,” said Joe, glancing about.
“Trust the natives to pick out the best spots,” said Bob.