“Ho! ho! ho! ah reckon dat’s right, Marse Ned,” roared Jupe, opening his big lips and exposing his ivories. “Has any one ever penetrated into their country?” went on Tom, addressing Captain Andrews. “I guess your father went as far as anybody,” was the response, “and you know how far he got. I have heard that the remnants of the ancient tribes have a law, making it death for the man who dares to advance into their territory.” “But the natives that caught you didn’t seem disposed to kill you,” objected Jack. “Oh, those fellows; they are of the inferior coast tribes,” was the rejoinder. “The ancient races regarded them as dirt under their feet. I guess they don’t know any more about the interior of those mountains than we do.” The current of the river, discolored and yellow from the recent earthquake back in the foothills, was so swift as they ascended that Captain Andrews found no opportunity for further talk. It required all his attention to keep the _Vagrant’s_ bow pointed upstream. The river narrowed considerably after passing its mouth. Its turbid current rolled seaward between two low and densely wooded banks, not more than sixty feet apart. “How far is it to the spot where that craft of Herrera’s was moored?” asked Jack, when he found an opportunity. “Fully fifteen or twenty miles, I should say,” was the response, “and if we are making two miles an hour against this current we are doing well. This river runs mighty near as fast as the Lachine Rapids back home.” “You’re not far out on that, Cap,” remarked the volatile Ned Bang’s, who had quite recovered his usual flow of spirits. The lad had not as much at stake as Jack and Tom, and, moreover, he did not quite realize the seriousness of the undertaking before them to the same extent that they did. Hour after hour they fought their way up the coffee-colored river. The character of the vegetation on the banks had begun to change by this time. Here and there stood a majestic clump of mahogany trees; but logwood, a valuable article of commerce in the dyeing industry, formed the major part of the growth. Once, as they rounded a bend, the flash of a lithe body was seen among the trees, as a beautifully spotted jaguar slunk away from the overhanging limb where it had been lying. “Let’s try the gas-guns on the next one we see,” suggested Tom, and the lads hastened below and returned armed with the odd weapons. An opportunity to use them soon presented itself. From a thick mass of brake there came a mighty squealing and grunting, as the _Vagrant_ came slowly around one of the numerous bends in the stream. All at once several small, bristly animals, like miniature pigs, dashed out with a mighty commotion. Three gas-guns flashed to three shoulders simultaneously. It was an odd and rather uncanny sight to behold an instant later, six little wild piggies lying with their toes turned up, “dead to the world,” as the slangy Ned Bangs put it.