“Their country!” echoed Joe. “I should think the Bolivian government would send a regiment up here and subdue the rascals.”
“Several such expeditions have been despatched,” was the response, “but the fate of all has been the same. Several months after their departure the remainder of the force has come straggling home, more dead than alive, to tell a tale of death and defeat.”
“But how can Indians cope with civilized troops?” Nat wanted to know.
“For one thing, they are inured to the hardships of the forest,” rejoined the professor; “for another, these Bolivian Indians wage war with poisoned arrows shot from long blow guns. A man usually dies in a few minutes after such an arrow has struck him, unless medical attention is at hand. Armed with these weapons, the Indians creep up on their foes and noiselessly decimate an entire force. It is in this way that the Indians have managed to reserve this part of the country for themselves and keep the hated white man out of it.”
The boys looked rather grave as they continued their tramp back to the Discoverer.
“Looks to me as if we were in for a more exciting time than we bargained for,” observed Nat to Joe.
“I guess you are right,” rejoined Joe. “A battle with Indians who employ such deadly weapons does not appeal to me.”
“Oh, I guess we’ll get through without trouble,” exclaimed Nat. “At any rate, if we are attacked, we can climb aboard the good old Discoverer and soon be out of range.”
“That’s so,” agreed Joe, and the lads dismissed the matter from their minds; but whether Nat’s surmise was correct or not, we shall see in due time.