"In the next village. We shall march there in the morning. No use to go there at night when all is dark."
"I suppose that is so."
The Indians made camp as usual, the goods being brought from the canoes and piled up near the tents. Then night settled down.
"Hello!" cried Tom, awakening the next morning to find the sun streaming into his tent. "We must have overslept, Ned. We were to start before old Sol got in his heavy work, but we haven't had breakfast yet."
"I didn't hear any one call us," remarked Ned.
"Nor I. Wonder if we're the only lazy birds." He looked from the tent in time to see Mr. Damon and the professor emerging. Then Tom noticed something queer. The canoes were not on the river bank. There was not an Indian in sight, and no evidence of Jacinto.
"What's the matter?" asked the young inventor. "Have the others gone on ahead?"
"I rather think they've gone back," was the professor's dry comment.
"Gone back?"
"Yes. The Indians seem to have deserted us at the ending of this stage of our journey."