"Bless my walking stick!" cried Mr. Damon. "Have we really to go
into the jungle, Tom?"

"I'm afraid we have, if we want to get any giants, and get a trace
of Mr. Poddington."

"All right, I'm game, but I do hope we won't run into a band of
fighting natives."

In Rosario it was learned that while the "war" was not regarded
seriously from the fact that the fighting tribes were far inland,
still it was going on with vigor, and large bands of natives were
roaming about, stealing each others' cattle and horses, burning
villages, and taking captives.

"I guess we're in for it," remarked Tom grimly. "But I'm not going
to back out now."

Unexpected complications, difficulties in the way of getting the
right kind of help, and a competent man to take charge of the native
drivers, so delayed our friends that it was nearly two weeks after
their arrival in Rosario before they could start for the interior.

Of course the object of the expedition was kept a secret, and Tom
let it be known that he and his friends were merely exploring, and
wanted rare plants, orchids, or anything in that line. The natives
were not very curious.

At last the day for the start came. The mules, which had been hired