Part 15 (2/2)

They started off, skirting the burned village to get on the trail beyond it. But hardly had they made a detour of the burned huts than one of the native drivers, who was in the rear, came riding up with a shout.

”Now what's the matter?” cried Tom, looking back.

There was a voluble chattering in Spanish between the driver and San Pedro.

”He says the natives that lived in this village have driven their enemies away, and are coming back--after us,” translated the head mule driver.

”After us!” gasped Ned.

”Yes,” replied San Pedro simply. ”They are coming even now. They will fight too, for all their wild nature is aroused.”

It needed but a moment's listening to prove this. From the rear came wild yells and the beating of drums and tom-toms.

”Bless my fountain pen!” cried Mr. Damon. ”What are we going to do?”

”Stop them if we can,” answered Tom coolly. ”Ned, you and I and Mr.

Damon will form a rear guard. San Pedro, take the mules and the men, and make as good time as you can in advance. We'll take three of the fastest mules, and hold these fellows back with the electric rifles, and when we've done that we'll ride on and catch up to you.”

”Very good,” said San Pedro, who seemed relieved to know that he did not have to do any of the fighting.

Three of the lighter weight mules, who carried small burdens, were quickly relieved of them, and mounting these steeds in preference to the ones they had been riding since they took the trail, Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon dropped back to try and hold off the enemy.

They had not far to ride nor long to wait. They could hear the fierce yells of the victorious tribesmen as they came back to their ruined village, and though there were doubtless sad hearts among them, they rejoiced that they had defeated their enemies. They knew they could soon rebuild the simple gra.s.s huts.

”Small charges, just to stun them!” ordered Tom, and the electric rifles were so adjusted.

”Here's a good place to meet them,” suggested Ned, as they came to a narrow turn in the trail. ”They can't come against us but a few at a time, and we can pump them full of electricity from here.”

”The very thing!” cried Tom, as he dismounted, an example followed by the others. Then, in another moment, they saw the blacks rus.h.i.+ng toward them. They were clad in nondescript garments, evidently of their own make, and they carried clubs, spears, bows and arrows and blow guns. There was not a firearm among them, as they pa.s.sed on after the party of our friends whom they had seen from the battle-hill.

They gave wild yells as they saw the young inventor's friends.

”Let 'em have it!” called Tom in a low voice, and the electric rifles sent out their stunning charges. Several natives in the front rank dropped, and there was a cry of fear and wonder from the others. Then, after a moment's hesitation they pressed on again.

”Once more!” cried Tom.

Again the electric rifles spoke, and half a score went down unconscious, but not seriously hurt. In a few hours they would be as well as ever, such was the merciful charge that Tom Swift and the others used in the rifles.

The third time they fired, and this was too much for the natives.

They could not battle against an unseen and silent enemy who mowed them down like a field of grain. With wild yells they fled back along the trail they had come.

”I guess that does it!” cried Tom. ”We'd better join the others now.”

Mounting their mules, they galloped back to where San Pedro and his natives were pressing forward.

”Did you have the honor of defeating them,” the head mule driver asked.

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