Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
_Printed in the United States of America_
Copyright, 1926 by The Reilly & Lee Co. _All Rights Reserved_
CHAPTER PAGE I The White Gleam 9 II Sudden Catastrophe 23 III Mysterious Sounds 38 IV Tree Hay and a Jaguar 47 V Narrow Escapes 58 VI Lost in the Jungle 65 VII Peril in the Dark 77 VIII Death Ahead 87 IX “It’s Death an’ Destruction” 100 X Johnny’s Ghost Walks 114 XI Provisioned for a Long Journey 128 XII A Bronze Beauty 135 XIII Purring Shadows 151 XIV Forgotten Tribes 159 XV The Hidden City 169 XVI Pant Sets a Trap 177 XVII The Spanish Girl Reappears 185 XVIII Pant Springs the Trap 191 XIX Capturing a Black Shadow 199 XX Century Old Caverns 209 XXI Trapped 218 XXII Magic Power 228 XXIII The Passing of the Ghost 237 XXIV Blind Drifting 242 XXV The Battle of Rio Hondo 252
As Johnny Thompson bent over the black waters of the river he thought he heard a stealthy movement behind him. Before he could decide whether or not his eyes had deceived him he caught the reflection of a sudden white gleam on the dark surface of the water. At the same time something told him to dive, and dive he did. With the rocket-like speed that was his, he shot straight into the water, then away beneath the surface. He rose some ten yards downstream. After one deep, silent breath, he grasped a red mangrove branch for support, then paused to listen.
He did not listen long, for there came a sudden wild swirl of water close beside him.
“Alligator!” he breathed, as with a sudden and mighty tug at the mangrove branch he threw himself clear of the water and out upon the bank.
Here he paused to listen again. Catching no sound, he began creeping back toward his first position, the foot of the path that had been cut to the river.
All this time his mind was working on double-quick time. What had caused that sound behind him there on the bank—man or beast? What was the white gleam? Was it, after all, only a product of his overwrought mind? The whole day had seemed full of brooding menace.
“No,” he told himself stoutly, “it was not all imagination. The sound might have been—but the white gleam? No. I saw that. After all, though, it might have been only the reflection of a white heron in silent flight.”