"Bad news!" gasped the young inventor. "Has Waydell got hold of your
plans."

"I'll wager it has something to do with Andy Foger!" exclaimed Ned.

"Neither one," spoke the circus man. "But I have just had a cable
dispatch from one of my animal agents in Brazil, saying that war has
broken out among the tribes in the central part of South America. A
big native war is being waged all around giant land, as near as we
can figure it out."

"War among the native tribes!" exclaimed Mr. Swift.

"Yes, and one of the worst in years. Of course, Tom, after such
alarming news as this I won't hold you to your promise to go. It's
all off. I'm sorry, but you'd better wait. It won't be safe to go
there now. Better unpack, Tom."

For a moment there was a silence in the room. Then the young
inventor leaped to his feet and faced the circus man.

"Unpack?" cried Tom in ringing tones. "Never! I'm going to giant
land, fight or no fight! Ned, come with me and we'll put in some of
my electric rifles. I wasn't going to take them along, but I will
now. Unpack? I guess not! I'm going to get a giant for you, Mr.
Preston, and save Jake Poddington if he's alive. Come on, Ned."