Instantly there was a jangling of bells in the engine room, and the Soudalar lost headway.

"What's the matter?" asked several persons.

They were answered a moment later, for the big whale, even though grievously wounded in his fight with the killer, had risen not a hundred feet away from the ship, and was coming toward it with the speed of an express train.

"Bless my blubber!" cried Mr. Damon. "We must have hit the whale, or it hit us under the water and now it's going to attack us!"

He had no more than gotten the words out of his mouth ere the great creature of the deep came on full tilt at the vessel, struck it a terrific blow which made it tremble from stem to stern, and careen violently.

There was a chorus of frightened cries, sailors rushed to and fro, the engine-room bells rang violently, and the captain and mates shouted hoarse orders.

"Here he comes again!" yelled Mr. Durban, as he hurried to the side of the ship. "The whale takes us for an enemy, I guess. and he's going to ram us again!"

"And if he does it many times, he'll start the plates and cause a leak that won't be stopped in a hurry!" cried a sailor as he rushed past Tom.

The young inventor looked at the oncoming monster for a moment, and then started on the run for his cabin.

"Here! Where are you going?" cried Mr. Damon, but Tom did not answer.



CHAPTER X

OFF IN THE AIRSHIP

As Tom Swift hurried down the companionway he again felt the ship careen as the whale struck it a powerful blow, and he was almost knocked off his feet. But he kept on.

Below he found some frightened men and women, a number of whom were adjusting life preservers about them, under the impression that the ship had struck a rock and was going down. They had not been up on deck, and did not know of the battle between the killer and the whale, nor what followed.

"Oh, I know we're sinking!" cried one timid woman. "What has happened?" she appealed to Tom.

"It will be all right in a little while," he assured her.

"But what is it? I want to know. Have we had a collision."

"Yes, with a whale," replied Tom, as he grabbed up something from his stateroom, and again rushed up on deck. As he reached it the whale came on once more, and struck the ship another terrific blow. Then the monster sank and could be seen swimming back, just under the surface of the water, getting ready to renew the attack.

"He's going to ram us again!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my machine oil! Why doesn't the captain do something?"

At that moment the commander cried from the bridge:

"Send a man below, Mr. Laster, to see if we are making any water. Then tell half a dozen of the sailors to get out the rifles, and see if they can't kill the beast. He'll put us in Davy Jones's locker if he keeps this up! Lively now, men!"

The first mate, Mr. Laster, called out the order. A sailor went below to see if the ship was leaking much, and the captain rang for full speed ahead. But the Soudalar was slow in getting under way again, and, even at top speed she was no match for the whale, which was again rushing toward the vessel.

"Quick with those rifles!" cried the captain. "Fire a volley into the beast!"

"There's no need!" suddenly called Mr. Damon, who had caught sight of Tom Swift, and the object which the lad carried.

"No need?" demanded the commander. "Why, has the whale sunk, or made off?"

"No," answered the eccentric man, "the whale is still coming on, but Tom Swift will fix him. Get there, Tom, and let him have a good one!"

"What sort of a gun is that?" demanded the commander as the young inventor took his place at the rail, which was now almost deserted.

Tom did not answer. Bracing himself against the rolling and heaving of the vessel, which was now under about half speed, Tom aimed his electric rifle at the oncoming leviathan. He looked at the automatic gage, noted the distance and waiting a moment until the crest of a wave in front of the whale had subsided, he pressed the button.

If those watching him expected to hear a loud report, and see a flash of flame, they were disappointed. There was absolutely no sound, but what happened to the whale was most surprising.

The great animal stopped short amid a swirl of foam, and the next instant it seemed to disintegrate. It went all to pieces, just as had the dummy figure which Tom on one occasion fired at with his rifle and as had the big packing-cases. The whale appeared to dissolve, as does a lump of sugar in a cup of hot tea, and, five seconds after Tom Swift had fired his electric gun, there was not a sign of the monster save a little blood on the calm sea.

"What—what happened?" asked the captain in bewilderment. "Is—is that monster gone?"

"Completely gone!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my powder horn, Tom, but I knew you could do it!"

"Is that a new kind of whale gun, firing an explosive bullet?" inquired the commander, as he came down off the bridge and shook hands with Tom. "If it is, I'd like to buy one. We may be rammed again by another whale."

"This is my new, electric rifle," explained the young inventor modestly, "and it fires wireless charges of electricity instead of bullets. I'm sorry I can't let you have it, as it's the only one I have. But I guess no more whales will ram us. That one was evidently crazed by the attack of the killer, and doubtless took us for another of its enemies."

Sailors and passengers crowded around Tom, eager to shake his hand, and to hear about the gun. Many declared that he had saved the ship.

This was hardly true, for the whale could not have kept up its attacks much longer. Still he might have done serious damage, by causing a leak, and, while the Soudalar was a stanch craft, with many water-tight compartments, still no captain likes to be a week from land with a bad leak, especially if a storm comes up. Then, too, there was the danger of a panic among the passengers, had the attacks been kept up, so, though Tom wanted to make light of his feat, the others would not let him.

"You're entitled to the thanks of all on board," declared Captain Wendon, "and I'll see that the owners hear of what you did. Well, I guess we can go on, now. I'll not stop again to see a fight between a killer and a whale."

The steamer resumed her way at full speed, and the sailor, who had gone below, came up to report that there was only a slight leak, which need not cause any uneasiness.

Little was talked of for the next few days but the killing of the whale, and Tom had to give several exhibitions of his electric rifle, and explain its workings. Then, too, the story of his expedition became known, and also the object of Mr. Anderson's quest, and Tom's offer of aid to help rescue the missionaries, so that, altogether, our hero was made much of during the remainder of the voyage.

"Well, if your gun will do that to a whale, what will it do to an elephant?" asked Mr. Durban one morning, when they were within a day's steaming of their port. "I'm afraid it's almost too strong, Tom. It will leave nothing—not even the tusks to pick up."

"Oh, I can regulate the power," declared the lad. "I used full force on the whale, just to see what it would do. It was the first tine I'd tried it on anything alive. I can so regulate the charge that it will kill even an elephant, and leave scarcely a mark on the beast."

"I'd like to see it done," remarked the old. hunter.

"I'll show you, if we sight any sharks," promised Tom. He was able to keep his word for that afternoon a school of the ugly fish followed the steamer for the sake of the food scraps thrown overboard. Tom took his position in the stern, and gave an exhibition of shooting with his electric gun that satisfied even Mr. Durban, exacting as he was.

For the lad, by using his heaviest charges, destroyed the largest sharks so that they seemed to instantly disappear in the water, and from that he toned down the current until he could kill some of the monsters so easily and quickly that they seemed to float motionless on the surface, yet there was no life left in them once the electric charge touched them.

"We'll use the light charges when we're killing elephants for their tusks," said Tom, "and the heavy ones when we're in danger from a rush of the beasts."

He little knew how soon he would have to put his plan into effect.

They arrived safely at Majumba, the African coast city, and for two days Tom was kept busy superintending the unloading of the parts of his airship. But it was safely taken ashore, and he and his friends hired a disused warehouse in which to work at reassembling the Black Hawk.

Tom had everything down to a system, and, in less than a week the aircraft was once more ready to be sent aloft. It was given a try-out, much to the astonishment of the natives, and worked perfectly. Then Tom and his friends busied themselves laying in a stock of provisions and stores for the trip into the interior.

They made inquiries about the chances of getting ivory and were told that they were good if they went far enough into the jungle and forests, for the big beasts had penetrated farther and farther inland.

They also tried to get some news regarding the captive missionaries, but were unsuccessful nor could they learn what had become of Tomba, who had brought the dire news to civilization.

"It's too soon to hope for anything yet," said Mr. Anderson. "Wait until we get near the country of the red pygmies."

"And then it may be too late," said Tom in a low voice.

It was two weeks after their arrival in Majumba that Tom announced that all was in readiness. The airship was in perfect working order, it was well stocked with food, arms, articles and trinkets with which to trade among the natives, spare parts for the machinery, special tools and a good supply of the chemicals needed to manufacture the lifting gas.

Of course Tom did not leave behind his electric weapon and Mr. Durban and the others took plenty of ammunition for the ordinary rifles which they carried.

One morning, after cabling to his father that they were about to start, Tom gave a last careful look to his airship, tested the motor and dynamos, took a hasty survey of the storeroom, to see that nothing had been forgotten, and gave the word to get aboard.

They took their places in the cabin. Outside a crowd of natives, and white traders of many nationalities had gathered. Tom pulled the starting lever. The Black Hawk shot across a specially prepared starting ground, and, attaining sufficient momentum, suddenly arose into the air.

There was a cheer from the watching crowd, and several superstitious blacks, who saw the airship for the first time, ran away in terror.

Up into the blue atmosphere Tom took his craft. He looked down on the city over which he was flying. Then he pointed the prow of the Black Hawk toward the heart of the dark continent.

"Off for the interior!" he murmured. "I wonder if we'll ever get out again?"

No one could answer. They had to take their chances with the dangers and terrors of elephant land, and with the red pygmies. Yet Tom Swift was not afraid.



CHAPTER XI

ANCHORED TO EARTH

With the voyage on the steamer, their arrival in Africa, the many strange sights of the city of Majumba, and the refitting of the airship, our friends had hardly had time to catch their breath since Tom Swift's determination to go elephant hunting. Now, as the Black Hawk was speeding into the interior, they felt, for the first time in many weeks, that they "could take it easy," as Ned Newton expressed it.

"Thank goodness," said the bank clerk, "I can sit down and look at something for a while," and he gazed out of the main cabin windows down at the wild country over which they were then flying.

For, so swiftly had the airship moved that it was hardly any time at all before it had left Majumba far behind, and was scudding over the wilderness.

"Bless my camera," exclaimed Mr. Damon, who had brought along one of the picture machines, "bless my camera! I don't call that much to look at," and he pointed to the almost impenetrable forest over which they then were.

"No, it isn't much of a view," said the old elephant hunter, "but wait. You'll soon see all you want to. Africa isn't all like this. There are many strange sights before us yet. But, Tom Swift, tell us how the airship is working in this climate. Do you find any difficulty managing it?"

"Not at all," answered Tom, who was in the cabin then, having set the automatic steering apparatus in the pilot house, and come back to join the others. "It works as well as it did in good old York State. Of course I can't tell what affect the continual hot and moist air will have on the gas bag, but I guess we'll make out all right."

"I certainly hope so," put in Mr. Anderson. "It would be too bad to be wrecked in the middle of Africa, with no way to get out."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," said Ned with a laugh. "If the airship should smash, Tom would build another out of what was left, and we'd sail away as good as before."

"Hardly that," answered the young inventor.

"But we won't cross a bridge until we hear it coming, as Eradicate would say. Hello, that looks like some sort of native village."

He pointed ahead to a little clearing in the forest, where a number of mud and grass huts were scattered about. As they came nearer they could see the black savages, naked save for a loin cloth, running about in great excitement, and pointing upward.

"Yes, that's one of the numerous small native villages we'll see from now on," said Mr. Durban. "Many a night have I spent in those same grass huts after a day's hunting. Sometimes, I've been comfortable, and again not. I guess we've given those fellows a scare."

It did seem so, for by this time the whole population, including women and children, were running about like mad. Suddenly, from below there sounded a deep booming noise, which came plainly to the ears of the elephant hunters through the opened windows of the airship cabin.

"Hark! What's that?" cried Tom, raising his hand for silence.

"Bless my umbrella! it sounds like thunder," said Mr. Damon.

"No, it's one of their war drums," explained Mr. Durban. "The natives make large ones out of hollow trees, with animal skins stretched over the ends, and they beat them to sound a warning, or before going into battle. It makes a great noise."

"Do you think they want to fight us?" asked Ned, looking anxiously at Tom, and then toward where his rifle stood in a corner of the cabin.

"No, probably that drum was beaten by some of the native priests," explained the hunter. "The natives are very superstitious, and likely they took us for an evil spirit, and wanted to drive us away."

"Then we'll hustle along out of their sight," said Tom, as he went to the pilot house to increase the speed of the airship, for he had been letting it drift along slowly to enable the adventurers to view the country over which they were passing. A few minutes later, under the increased force of the machinery, the Black Hawk left the native village, and the crowd of frightened blacks, far behind.

The travelers passed over a succession of wild stretches of forest or jungle, high above big grassy plains, over low but rugged mountain ranges, and big rivers. Now and then they would cross some lake, on the calm surface of which could be made out natives, in big canoes, hollowed out from trees. In each case the blacks showed every appearance of fright at the sight of the airship throbbing along over their heads.

On passing over the lake, Ned Newton looked down and cried out excitedly:

"Look! Elephants! They're in swimming, and the natives are shooting them! Now's our chance, Tom!"

Mr. Anderson and Mr. Durban, after a quick glance, drew back laughing.

"Those are hippopotami!" exclaimed the old elephant man. "Good hunting, if you don't care what you shoot, but not much sport in it. It will be some time yet before we see any elephants, boys."

Ned was rather chagrined at his mistake, but the African travelers told him that any one, not familiar with the country, would have made it, especially in looking down from a great height.

They sailed along about half a mile above the earth, Tom gradually increasing the speed of the ship, as he found the machinery to be working well. Dinner was served as they were crossing a high grassy plateau, over which could be seen bounding a number of antelopes.

"Some of those would go good for a meal," said Mr. Durban, after a pause during which he watched the graceful creatures.

"Then we'll go down and get some for supper," decided Tom, for in that hot climate it was impossible to carry fresh meat on the airship.

Accordingly, the Black Hawk was sent down, and came to rest in a natural clearing on the edge of the jungle. After waiting until the fierce heat of noonday was over, the travelers got out their rifles and, under the leadership of Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson, who was also an experienced hunter, they set off.

Game was plentiful, but as they could only eat a comparatively small quantity, and as it would not keep, they only shot what they needed. Tom had his electric rifle, but hesitated to use it, as Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson had each already bowled over a fine buck.

However, a chance came most unexpectedly, for, as they were passing along the banks of a little stream, which was almost hidden from view by thick weeds and rank grass, there was a sudden commotion in the bushes, and a fierce wild buffalo sprang out at the party.

There are few animals in Africa more dreaded by hunters than the wild buffalo, for the beast, with its spreading sharp horns is a formidable foe, and will seldom give up the attack until utterly unable to move. They are fierce and relentless.

"Look out!" yelled Mr. Durban. "To cover, everybody! If that beast gets after you it's no fun! You and I will fire at him, Mr. Anderson!"

Mr. Durban raised his rifle, and pulled the trigger, but, for some reason, the weapon failed to go off. Mr. Anderson quickly raised his, but his foot slipped in a wet place and he fell. At that moment the buffalo, with a snort of rage, charged straight for the fallen man.

"Tom! your electric rifle!" yelled Ned Newton, but he need not have done so, for the young inventor was on the alert.

Taking instant aim, and adjusting his weapon for the heaviest charge, Tom fired at the advancing beast. The result was the same as in the case of the whale, the buffalo seemed to melt away. And it was stopped only just in time, too, for it was close to the prostrate Mr. Anderson, who had sprained his ankle slightly, and could not readily rise.

It was all over in a few seconds, but it was a tense time while it lasted.

"You saved my life again, Tom Swift," said Mr. Anderson, as he limped toward our hero. "Once on Earthquake Island, and again now. I shan't forget it," and he shook hands with the young inventor.

The others congratulated Tom on his quick shot, and Mr. Damon, as usual blessed everything in sight, and the electric rifle especially.

They went back to the airship, taking the fresh meat with them, but on account of the injury to Mr. Anderson's ankle could not make quick progress, so that it was almost dusk when they reached the craft.

"Well, we'll have supper, and then start off," proposed Tom, "I don't think it would be wise to remain on the ground so near the jungle."

"No' it's safer in the air," agreed Mr. Durban. The meal was much enjoyed, especially the fresh meat, and, after it was over, Tom took his place in the pilot house to start the machinery, and send the airship aloft.

The motor hummed and throbbed, and the gas hissed into the bag, for the ground was not level enough to permit of a running start by means of the planes. Lights gleamed from the Black Hawk and the big search-lantern in front cast a dazzling finger of light into the black forest.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" called Ned, who heard the machinery in motion, but who could not feel the craft rising. "Why don't you go up, Tom?"

"I'm trying to," answered the young inventor. "Something seems to be the matter." He pulled the speed lever over a few more notches, and increased the power of the gas machine. Still the Black Hawk did not rise.

"Bless my handkerchief box!" cried Mr. Damon, "what's the matter?"

"I don't know," answered Tom. "We seem to be held fast."

He further increased the speed of the propellers, and the gas machine was set to make vapor at its fullest capacity, and force it into the bag. Still the craft was held to the earth.

"Maybe the gas has no effect in this climate," called Ned.

"It can't be that," replied Tom. "The gas will operate anywhere. It worked all right today."

Suddenly she airship moved up a little way, and then seemed to be pulled down again, hitting the ground with a bump.

"Something is holding us!" cried Tom. "We're anchored to earth! I must see what it is!" and, catching up his electric rifle, he dashed out of the cabin.



CHAPTER XII

AMONG THE NATIVES

For a moment after Tom's departure the others stared blankly at one another. They could hear the throbbing and hum of the machinery, and feel the thrill of the anchored airship. But they could not understand what the trouble was.

"We must help Tom!" cried Ned Newton at length as he caught up his rifle. "Maybe we are in the midst of a herd of elephants, and they have hold of the ship in their trunks."

"It couldn't be!" declared Mr. Durban, yet they soon discovered that Ned's guess was nearer the truth then any of them had suspected at the time.

"We must help him, true enough!" declared Mr. Anderson, and he and the others followed Ned out on deck.

"Where are you Tom?" called his chum.

"Here." was the answer. "I'm on the forward deck."

"Do you see anything?"

"No, it's too dark. Turn the search-light this way."

"I will," shouted Mr. Damon, and a moment later the gleam of the powerful lantern brought Tom clearly into view, as he stood on the small forward observation platform in the bow of the Black Hawk.

An instant later the young inventor let out a startled cry.

"What is it?" demanded Mr. Durban.

"An immense snake!" shouted Tom. "It's wound around a tree, and partly twined around the ship! That's why we couldn't go up! I'm going to shoot it."

They looked to where he pointed, and there, in the glare of the light, could be seen an immense python, fully twenty-five feet long, the forward part of its fat ugly body circled around the slender prow of the airship, while the folds of the tail were about a big tree.

Tom Swift raised his electric rifle, took quick aim, and, having set it to deliver a moderate charge, pressed the button. The result was surprising, for the snake being instantly killed the folds uncoiled and the ship shot upward, only, instead of rising on an even keel, the bow pointed toward the sky, while the stern was still fast to the earth. Tilted at an angle of forty-five degrees the Black Hawk was in a most peculiar position, and those standing on the deck began to slide along it.

"There's another snake at the stern!" cried Mr. Damon as he grasped a brace to prevent falling off. "Bless my slippers! it's the mate of the one you killed! Shoot the other one, Tom!"

The young inventor needed no urging. Making his way as best he could to the stern of the airship, he killed the second python, which was even larger than the first, and in an instant the Black Hawk shot upward, this time level, and as it should be. Things on board were soon righted, and the travelers could stand upright. High above the black jungle rose the craft, moving forward under the full power of the propellers, until Tom rushed into the engine room, and reduced speed.

"Well, talk about things happening!" exclaimed Ned, when they had somewhat recovered from the excitement. "I should say they were beginning with a vengeance!"

"That's the way in Africa," declared Mr. Durban. "It's a curious country. Those pythons generally go in pairs, but it's the first time I ever knew them to tackle an airship. They probably stay around here where there is plenty of small game for them, and very likely they merely anchored to our craft while waiting for a supper to come along."

"It was a very odd thing," said Tom. "I couldn't imagine what held us. After this I'll see that all is clear before I try to go up. Next time we may be held by a troop of baboons and it strains the machinery to have it pull against dead weight in that way."

However, it was found no harm had resulted from this experience, and, after reducing the gas pressure, which was taking them too high, Tom set the automatic rudders.

"We'll keep on at slow speed through the night," he explained, "and in the morning we'll be pretty well into the interior. Then we can lay our course for wherever we want to go. Where had we better head for?"

"I don't want to interfere with your plans," said Mr. Anderson, "but I would like to rescue those missionaries. But the trouble is, I don't know just where to look for them. We couldn't get much of a line in Majumba on where the country of the red pygmies is located. What do you think about it, Mr. Durban?"

"As far as elephant hunting goes we can probably do as well in the pygmy land as anywhere else," answered the veteran, "and perhaps it will be well to head for that place. If we run across any elephant herds in the meanwhile, we can stop, get the ivory, and proceed."

They discussed this plan at some length, and agreed that it was the best thing to do. Mr. Durban had a map of the country around the center of Africa, and he marked on it, as nearly as he could, the location of the pygmies' country, while Mr. Anderson also had a chart, showing the location of the mission which had been wiped out of existence. It was in the midst of a wild and desolate region.

"We'll do the best we can," declared Tom, "and I think we'll succeed. We ought to be there in about a week, if we have no bad luck."

All that night the Black Hawk flew on over Africa, covering mile after mile, passing over jungle, forest, plains, rivers and lakes, and, doubtless, over many native villages, though they could not be seen.

Morning found the travelers above a great, grassy plain, dotted here and there with negro settlements which were separated by rivers, lakes or thin patches of forest.

"Well, we'll speed up a bit," decided Tom after breakfast, which was eaten to the weird accompaniment of hundreds of native warning-drums, beaten by the superstitious blacks.

Tom went to the engine room, and turned on more speed. He was about to go back to the pilot house, to set the automatic steering apparatus to coincide with the course mapped out, when there was a crash of metal, an ominous snapping and buzzing sound, followed by a sudden silence.

"What's that?" cried Ned, who was in the motor compartment with his chum.

"Something's gone wrong!" exclaimed the young inventor, as he sprang back toward the engine. The propellers had ceased revolving, and as there was no gas in the bag at that time, it having been decided to save the vapor for future needs, the Black Hawk began falling toward the earth.

"We're going down!" yelled Ned.

"Yes, the main motor has broken!" exclaimed Tom. "We'll have to descend to repair it."

"Say!" yelled Mr. Damon, rushing in, "we're right over a big African village! Are we going to fall among the natives?"

"It looks that way," admitted Tom grimly, as he hastened to the pilot house to shift the wings so that the craft could glide easily to the ground.

"Bless my shoe blacking!" cried the eccentric man as he heard the beating of drums, and the shouts of the savages.

A little later the airship had settled into the midst of a crowd of Africans, who swarmed all about the craft.



CHAPTER XIII

ON AN ELEPHANT TRAIL

"Get ready with your guns, everybody!" cried the old elephant hunter, as he prepared to leave the cabin of the Black Hawk. "Tom Swift, don't forget your electric rifle. There'll be trouble soon!"

"Bless my cartridge belt!" gasped Mr. Damon. "Why? What will happen?"

"The natives," answered Mr. Durban. "They'll attack us sure as fate! See, already they're getting out their bows and arrows, and blowguns! They'll pierce the gas bag in a hundred places!"

"If they do, it will be a bad thing for us," muttered Tom. "We can't have that happen."

He followed the old elephant hunter outside, and Mr. Anderson, Ned Newton and Mr. Damon trailed after, each one with a gun, while Tom had his electric weapon. The airship rested on its wheels on some level ground, just in front of a large hut, surrounded by a number of smaller ones. All about were the natives, tall, gaunt black men, hideous in their savagery, wearing only the loin cloth, and with their kinky hair stuck full of sticks, bones and other odd objects they presented a curious sight.

Some of them were dancing about, brandishing their weapons—clubs spears, bows, and arrows, or the long, slender blowguns, consisting merely of a hollow reed. Women and children there were, too, also dancing and leaping about, howling at the tops of their voices. Above the unearthly din could be heard the noise of the drums and tom-toms, while, as the adventurers drew up in front of their airship, there came a sort of chant, and a line of natives, dressed fantastically in the skins of beasts, came filing out of the large hut.

"The witch-doctors!" exclaimed Tom, who had read of them in African travel books.

"Are they going to attack us?" cried Ned.

"Bless my hymn book! I hope not!" came from Mr. Damon. "We wouldn't have any chance at all in this horde of black men. I wish Eradicate Sampson and his mule Boomerang were here. Maybe he could talk their language, and tell them that we meant no harm."

"If there's any talking to be done, I guess our guns will have to do it," said Tom grimly.

"I can speak a little of their language," remarked Mr. Durban, "but what in the world are the beggars up to, anyhow? I supposed they'd send a volley of arrows at us, first shot, but they don't seem to be going to do that."

"No, they're dancing around us," said Tom.

"That's it!" exclaimed Mr. Anderson. "I have it! Why didn't I think of it before? The natives are welcoming us!"

"Welcoming us?" repeated Ned.

"Yes," went on the missionary seeker. "They are doing a dance in our honor, and they have even called out the witch-doctors to do us homage."

"That's right," agreed Mr. Durban, who was listening to the chanting of the natives dressed in animal skins. "They take us for spirits from another land, and are making us welcome here. Listen, I'll see if I can make out what else they are saying."

The character of the shouts and chants changed abruptly, and the dancing increased in fervor, even the children throwing themselves wildly about. The witch-doctors ran around like so many maniacs, and it looked as much like an American Indian war dance as anything else.

"I've got it!" shouted Mr. Durban, for he had to call loudly to be heard above the din. "They are asking us to make it rain. It seems there has been a dry spell here, and their own rain-makers and witch-doctors haven't been able to get a drop out of the sky. Now, they take it that we have come to help them. They think we are going to bring rain."

"And if we don't, what will happen?" asked Tom.

"Maybe they won't be quite so glad to see us," was the answer.

"Well, if they don't mean war, we might as well put up our weapons," suggested Mr. Anderson. "If they're going to be friendly, so much the better, and if it should happen to rain while we're here, they'd think we brought it, and we could have almost anything we wanted. Perhaps they have a store of ivory hidden away, Mr. Durban. Some of these tribes do."

"It's possible, but the chances for rain are very small. How long will we have to stay here, Tom Swift?" asked the elephant hunter anxiously.

"Well, perhaps I can get the motor mended in two or three days," answered the young inventor.

"Then we'll have to stay here in the meanwhile," decided Mr. Durban. "Well, we'll make the best of it. Ha, here comes the native king to do us honor," and, as he spoke there came toward the airship a veritable giant of a black man, wearing a leopard skin as a royal garment, while on his head was a much battered derby hat, probably purchased at a fabulous price from some trader. The king, if such he could be called, was accompanied by a number of attendants and witch-doctors. In front walked a small man, who, as it developed, was an interpreter. The little cavalcade advanced close to the airship, and came to a halt. The king made a low bow, either to the craft or to the elephant hunters drawn up in front of it. His attendants followed his example, and then the interpreter began to speak.

Mr. Durban listened intently, made a brief answer to the little man, and then the elephant hunter's face lighted up.

"It's all right," he said to Tom and the others. "The king takes us for wonderful spirits from another land. He welcomes us, says we can have whatever we want, and he begs us to make it rain. I have said we will do our best, and I have asked that some food be sent us. That's always the first thing to do. We'll be allowed to stay here in peace until Tom can mend the ship, and then we'll hit the air trail again."

The talk between Mr. Durban and the interpreter continued for some little time longer. Then the king went back to his hut, refusing, as Mr. Durban said, an invitation to come aboard and see how a modern airship was constructed. The natives, too, seemed anxious to give the craft a wide berth.

The excitement had quieted down now, and, in a short tine a crowd of native women came toward the airship, bearing, in baskets on their heads, food of various kinds. There were bananas, some wild fruits, yams, big gourds of goats' milk, some boiled and stewed flesh of young goats, nicely cooked, and other things, the nature of which could only be guessed at.

"Shall we eat this stuff, or stick to Mr. Damon's cooking?" asked Tom.

"Oh, you'll find this very good," explained Mr. Durban. "I've eaten native cookery before. Some of it is excellent and as this appears to be very good, Mr. Damon can have a vacation while we are here."

The old elephant hunter proved the correctness of his statement by beginning to eat, and soon all the travelers were partaking of the food left by the native women. They placed it down on the ground at a discreet distance from the airship, and hurriedly withdrew. But if the women and men were afraid, the children were not, and they were soon swarming about the ship, timidly touching the sides with their little black fingers, but not venturing on board.

Tom, with Ned and Mr. Damon to help him, began work on the motor right after dinner. He found the break to be worse than he had supposed, and knew that it would take at least four days to repair it.

Meanwhile the airship continued to be a source of wonder to the natives. They were always about it, save at night, but their admiration was a respectful one. The king was anxious for the rain-making incantations to begin, but Mr. Durban put him off.

"I don't want to deceive these simple natives," he said, "and for our own safety we can't pretend to make rain, and fail. As soon as we have a chance we'll slip away from here."

But an unexpected happening made a change in their plans. It was on, the afternoon of their third day in the native village, and Tom and his assistants were working hard at the motor. Suddenly there seemed to be great excitement in the vicinity of the king's hut. A native had rushed into the village from the jungle, evidently with some news, for presently the whole place was in a turmoil.

Once more the king and his attendants filed out toward the airship. Once more the interpreter talked to Mr. Durban, who listened eagerly.

"By Jove! here's our chance!" he cried to Tom, when the little man had finished.

"What is it?" asked the young inventor.

"A runner has just come in with news that a large herd of wild elephants is headed this way. The king is afraid the big beasts will trample down all their crops, as often occurs, and he begs us to go out and drive the animals away. It's just what we want. Come on, Tom, and all of you. The airship will be safe here, for the natives think that to meddle with it would mean death or enchantment for then. We'll get on our first elephant trail!"

The old hunter went into the cabin for his big game gun, while Tom hastened to get out his electric rifle. Now he would have a chance to try it on the powerful beasts which he had come to Africa to hunt.

Amid the excited and joyous shouts of the natives, the hunters filed out of the village, led by the dusky messenger who had brought the news of the elephants. And, as Tom and the others advanced, they could hear a distant trumpeting, and a crashing in the jungle that told of the near presence of the great animals.



CHAPTER XIV

A STAMPEDE

"Look to your guns, everybody!" cautioned Mr. Durban. "It's no joke to be caught in an elephant herd with an unloaded rifle. Have you plenty of ammunition, Mr. Damon?"

"Ammunition? Bless my powder bag, I think I have enough for all the elephants I'll kill. If I get one of the big beasts I'll be satisfied. Bless my piano keys! I think I see them, Tom!"

He pointed off through the thick jungle. Surely something was moving there amid the trees; great slate-colored bodies, massive forms and waving trunks! The trumpeting increased, and the crashing of the underbrush sounded louder and nearer.

"There they are!" cried Tom Swift joyously.

"Now for my first big game!" yelled Ned Newton.

"Take it easy," advised Mr. Anderson. "Remember to aim for the spot I mentioned to you as being the best, just at the base of the skull. If you can't make a head shot, or through the eye, try for the heart. But with the big bullets we have, almost any kind of a shot, near a vital spot, will answer."

"And Tom can fire at their TOES and put them out of business," declared Ned, who was eagerly advancing. "How about it, Tom?"

"Well, I guess the electric rifle will come up to expectations. Say, Mr. Durban, they seem to be heading this way!" excitedly cried Tom, as the herd of big beasts suddenly turned and changed their course.

"Yes, they are," admitted the old elephant hunter calmly. "But that won't matter. Take it easy. Kill all you can."

"But we don't want to put too many out of business," said Tom, who was not needlessly cruel, even in hunting.

"I know that," answered Mr. Durban. "But this is a case of necessity. I've got to get ivory, and we have to kill quite a few elephants to accomplish this. Besides the brutes will head for the village and the natives' grain fields, and trample them down, if they're not headed back. So all together now, we'll give them a volley. This is a good place! There they are. All line up now. Get ready!"

He halted, and the others followed his example. The natives had come to a stop some time before, and were huddled together in the jungle back of our friends, waiting to see the result of the white men's shots.

Tom, Ned, Mr. Damon, and the two older hunters were on an irregular line in the forest. Before them was the mass of elephants advancing slowly, and feeding on the tender leaves of trees as they came on. They would reach up with their long trunks, strip off the foliage, and stuff it into their mouths. Sometimes, they even pulled up small trees by the roots for the purpose of stripping them more easily.

"Jove! There are some big tuskers in that bunch!" cried Mr. Durban. "Aim for the bulls, every one, don't kill the mothers or little ones." Tom now saw that there were a number of baby Elephants in the herd, and he appreciated the hunter's desire to spare them and their mothers.

"Here we go!" exclaimed Mr. Durban, as he saw that Tom and the others were ready. "Aim! Fire!"

There were thundering reports that awoke the echoes of the jungle, and the sounds of the rifles were followed by shrill trumpets of rage. When the smoke blew away three elephants were seen prostrate, or, rather two, and part of another one. The last vas almost blown to pieces by Tom Swift's electric rifle; for the young inventor had used a little too heavy charge, and the big beast had been almost annihilated.

Mr. Durban had dropped his bull with a well-directed shot, and Mr. Anderson had a smaller one to his credit.

"I guess I missed mine," said Ned ruefully.

"Bless my dress-suit case!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "So did I!"

"One of you hit that fellow!" cried Mr. Durban. "He's wounded."

He pointed to a fair-sized bull who was running wildly about, uttering shrill cries of anger. The other beasts had gathered in a compact mass, with the larger bulls, or tuskers, on the outside, to protect the females and young.

"I'll try a shot at him," said Tom, and raising his electric, gun, he took quick aim. The elephant dropped in his tracks, for this time the young inventor had correctly adjusted the power of the wireless bullet.

"Good!" cried Mr. Durban. "Give them some more! This is some of the best ivory I've seen yet!"

As he spoke he fired, and bowled over another magnificent specimen. Ned Newton, determined to make a record of at least one, fired again, and to his delight, saw a big fellow drop.

"I got him!" he yelled.

Mr. Anderson also got another, and then Mr. Damon, blessing something which his friends could not make out, fired at one of the largest bulls in the herd.

"You only nipped him!" exclaimed Mr. Durban when the smoke had drifted away. "I guess I'll put him out of his misery!"

He raised his weapon and pulled the trigger but no report followed. He uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"The breech-action has jammed!" he exclaimed. "Drop him, Tom. He's scented us, and is headed this way. The whole herd will follow in a minute."

Already the big brute wounded by Mr. Damon had trumpeted out a cry of rage and defiance. It was echoed by his mates. Then, with upraised trunk, he darted forward, followed by a score of big tuskers.

But Tom had heard and understood. The leading beast had not taken three steps before he dropped under the deadly and certain fire of the young inventor.

"Bless my wishbone!" cried Mr. Damon when he saw how effective the electric weapon was.

There was a shout of joy from the natives in the rear. They saw the slain creatures and knew there would be much fresh meat and feasting for them for days to come.

Suddenly Mr. Durban cried out: "Fire again, Tom! Fire everybody! The whole herd is coming this way. If we don't stop them they'll overrun the fields and village, anti may smash the airship! Fire again!"

Almost as he spoke, the rush, which had been stopped momentarily, when Tom dropped the wounded elephant, began again. With shrill menacing cries the score of bulls in the lead came on, followed this time by the females and the young.

"It's a stampede!" yelled Mr. Anderson, firing into the midst of the herd. Mr. Durban was working frantically at his clogged rifle. Ned and Mr. Damon both fired, and Tom Swift, adjusting his weapon to give the heaviest charges, shot a fusillade of wireless bullets into the center of the advancing elephants, who were now wild with fear and anger.

"It's a stampede all right!" said Tom, when he saw that the big creatures were not going to stop, in spite of the deadly fire poured into them.



CHAPTER XV

LIONS IN THE NIGHT

Shouting, screaming, imploring their deities in general, and the white men in particular for protection, the band of frightened natives broke and ran through the jungle, caring little where they went so long as they escaped the awful terror of the pursuing herd of maddened elephants. Behind them came Tom Swift and the others, for it were folly to stop in the path of the infuriated brutes.

"Our only chance is to get on their flank and try to turn them!" yelled Mr. Durban. "We may beat them in getting to the clearing, for the trail is narrow. Run, everybody!"

No one needed his excited advice to cause them to hurry. They scudded along, Mr. Damon's cap falling off in his haste. But he did not stop to pick it up.

The hunters had one advantage. They were on a narrow but well-cleared trail through the jungle, which led from the village where they were encamped, to another, several miles away. This trail was too small for the elephants, and, indeed, had to be taken in single file by the travelers.

But it prevented the elephants making the same speed as did our friends, for the jungle, at this point, consisted of heavy trees, which halted the progress of even the strongest of the powerful beasts. True, they could force aside the frail underbrush and the small trees, but the others impeded their progress.

"We'll get there ahead of them!" cried Tom. "Have you got your rifle in working order yet, Mr. Durban?"

"No, something has broken, I fear. We'll have to depend on your electric gun, Tom. Have you many charges left?"

"A dozen or so. But Ned and the others have plenty of ammunition."

"Don't count—on—me!" panted Mr. Damon, who was well-nigh breathless from the run. "I—can't—aim—straight—any—more!"

"I'll give 'em a few more bullets!" declared Mr. Anderson.

The fleeing natives were now almost lost to sight, for they could travel through the jungle, ignoring the trail, at high speed. They were almost like snakes or animals in this respect. Their one thought was to get to their village, and, if possible, protect their huts and fields of grain from annihilation by the elephants.

Behind our friends, trumpeting, bellowing and crashing came the pachyderms. They seemed to be gaining, and Tom, looking back, saw one big brute emerge upon the trail, and follow that.

"I've got to stop him, or some of the others will do the same," thought the young inventor. He halted and fired quickly. The elephant seemed to melt away, and Tom with regret, saw a pair of fine tusks broken to bits. "I used too heavy a charge," he murmured, as he took up the retreat again.

In a few minutes the party of hunters, who were now playing more in the role of the hunted, came out into the open. They could hear the natives beating on their big hollow tree drums, and on tom-toms, while the witch-doctors and medicine men were chanting weird songs to drive the elephants away.

But the beasts came on. One by one they emerged from the jungle, until the herd was gathered together again in a compact mass. Then, under the leadership of some big bulls, they advanced. It seemed as if they knew what they were doing, and were determined to revenge themselves by trampling the natives' huts under their ponderous feet.

But Tom and the others were not idle. Taking a position off to one side, the young inventor began pouring a fusillade of the electric bullets into the mass of slate-colored bodies. Mr. Anderson was also firing, and Ned, who had gotten over some of his excitement, was also doing execution. Mr. Durban, after vainly trying to get his rifle to work, cast it aside. "Here! Let me take your gun!" he cried to Mr. Damon, who, panting from the run, was sitting beneath a tree.

"Bless my cartridge belt! Take it and welcome!" assented the eccentric man. It still had several shots in the magazine, and these the old hunter used with good effect.

At first it seemed as if the elephants could not be turned back. They kept on rushing toward the village, which was not far away, and Tom and the others followed at one side, as best they could, firing rapidly. The electric rifle did fearful execution.

Emboldened by the fear that all their possessions would be destroyed a body of the natives rushed out, right in front of the elephants, and beat tom-toms and drums, almost under their feet, at the same time singing wild songs.

"I'm afraid we can't stop them!" muttered Mr. Anderson. "We'd better hurry to the airship, and protect that, Tom."

But, almost as he spoke, the tide of battle turned. The elephants suddenly swung about, and began a retreat. They could not stand the hot fire of the four guns, including Tom's fearful weapon. With wild trumpetings they fled back into the jungle, leaving a number of their dead behind.

"A close call," murmured Tom, as he drew a breath of relief. Indeed this was true, for the tide had turned when the foremost elephants were not a hundred feet away from the first rows of native huts.

"I should say it was," agreed Ned Newton, wiping his face with his handkerchief. He, as well as the others, was an odd-looking sight. They were blackened by powder smoke, scratched by briars, and red from exertion.

"But we got more ivory in this hour than I could have secured in a week of ordinary hunting" declared Mr. Durban. "If this keeps up we won't have to get much more, except that I don't think any of the tusks to-day are large enough for the special purpose of my customer."

"The sooner we get enough ivory the quicker we can go to the rescue of the missionaries," said Mr. Anderson.

"That's so," remarked Tom. "We must not forget the red pygmies."

The natives were now dancing about, wild in delight at the prospect of unlimited eating, and also thankful for what the white men had done for them. Alone, the blacks would never have been able to stop the stampede. They were soon busy cutting up the elephants ready for a big feast, and runners were sent to tell neighboring tribes, in adjoining villages, of the delights awaiting them.

Mr. Durban gave instructions about saving the ivory tusks, and the valuable teeth, each pair worth about $1,000, were soon cut out and put away for our friends. Some had been lost by the excessive power of Tom's gun, but this could not be helped. It was necessary to stop the rush at any price.

There was soon a busy scene at the native village, and with the arrival of other tribesmen it seemed as if Bedlam had broken loose. The blacks chattered like so many children as they prepared for the feast.

"Do white men ever eat elephant meat?" asked Mr. Damon, as the adventurers were gathered about the airship.

"Indeed they do," declared Mr. Durban. "Baked elephant foot is a delicacy that few appreciate. I'll have the natives cook some for us."

He gave the necessary orders, and the travelers had to admit that it was worth coming far to get.

For the next few days and nights there was great feasting in that African village, and the praises of the white men, and power of Tom Swift's electric rifle, were sung loud and long.

Our friends had resumed work on repairing the airship, and the young inventor declared, one night, that they could proceed the next day.

They were seated around a small campfire, watching the dancing and antics of some natives who were at their usual work of eating meat. All about our friends were numerous blazes for the cooking of the feasts, and some were on the very edge of the jungle.

Suddenly, above the uncouth sounds of the merry-making, there was heard a deep vibration and roar, not unlike the distant rumble of thunder or the hum of a great steamer's whistle heard afar in the fog.

"What's that?" cried Ned.

"Lions," said Mr. Durban briefly. "They have been attracted by the smell of cooking."

At that moment, and instantly following a very loud roar, there was an agonized scream of pain and terror. It sounded directly in back of the airship.

"A lion!" cried Mr. Anderson. "One of the brutes has grabbed a native!"

Tom Swift caught up his rifle, and darted off toward the dark jungle.



CHAPTER XVI

SEEKING THE MISSIONARIES

"Here! Come back!" yelled Mr. Damon and Mr. Anderson, in the same breath, while the old elephant hunter cried out: "Don't you know you're risking your life, Tom to go off in the dark, to trail a lion?"

"I can't stand it to let the native be carried off!" Tom shouted back.

"But you can't see in the dark," objected Mr. Anderson. He had probably forgotten the peculiar property of the electric rifle. Tom kept on, and the others slowly followed.

The natives had at once ceased their merrymaking at the roaring of the lions, and now all were gathered close about the campfires, on which more wood had been piled, to drive away the fearsome brutes.

"There must be a lot of them," observed Mr. Durban, as menacing growls and roars came from the jungle, along the edge of which Tom and the others were walking just then. "There are so many of the brutes that they are bold, and they must be hungry, too. They came close to our fire, because it wasn't so bright as the other blazes, and that native must have wandered off into the forest. Well, I guess it's all up with him."

"He's screaming yet," observed Ned.

Indeed, above the rumbling roars of the lions, and the crackling of the campfires, could be heard the moaning cries of the unfortunate black.

"He's right close here!" suddenly called Tom. "He's skirting the jungle. I think I can get him!"

"Don't take any risks!" called Mr. Durban, who had caught up his own rifle, that was now in working order again.

Tom Swift was not in sight. He had now penetrated into the jungle—into the black forest where stalked the savage lions, intent on getting other prey. Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson vainly tried to pierce the darkness to see something at which to shoot. Ned Newton had eagerly started to follow his chum, but could not discern where Tom was. A nameless fear clutched at the lad's heart. Mr. Damon was softly blessing everything of which he could think.

Once more came that pitiful cry from the native, who was, as they afterward learned, being dragged along by the lion, who had grabbed him by the shoulder.

Suddenly in the dense jungle there shone a purple-bluish light. It illuminated the scene like some great sky-rocket for an instant, and in that brief time Ned and the others caught sight of a great, tawny form, bounding along. It was a lion, with head held high, dragging along a helpless black man.

A second later, and before the intense glare had died away, the watchers saw the lion gently sink down, as though weary. He stopped short in his tracks, his head rolled back, the jaws relaxed and the native, who was unconscious now, toppled to one side.

"Tom's killed him with the electric rifle!" cried Mr. Durban.

"Bless my incandescent lamp! so he has," agreed Mr. Damon. "Bless my dynamo! but that's a wonderful gun, it's as powerful as a thunderbolt, or as gentle as a summer shower."

Mr. Durban seeing that the lion was dead, in that brief glance he had had of the brute, called to some of the natives to come and get their tribesman. They came, timidly enough at first, carrying many torches, but when they understood that the lion was dead, they advanced more boldly. They carried the wounded black to a hut, where they applied their simple but effective remedies for the cruel bite in his shoulder.

After Tom had shot several other of the illuminated charges into the jungle, to see if he could discover any more lions, but failed to do so, he and his friends returned to the anchored airship, amid the murmured thanks of the Africans.

Bright fires were kept blazing all the rest of the night, but, though lions could be heard roaring in the jungle, and though they approached alarmingly close to the place where our friends were encamped, none of the savage brutes ventured within the clearing.

With the valuable store of ivory aboard the Black Hawk, which was now completely repaired, an early start was made the next morning. The Africans besought Tom and his companions to remain, for it was not often they could have the services of white men in slaying elephants and lions.

"But, we've got to get on the trail," decided Tom, when the natives had brought great stores of food, and such simple presents as they possessed, to induce the travelers to remain.

"Every hour may add to the danger of the missionaries in the hands of the red pygmies."

"Yes," said Mr. Anderson gravely, "it is our duty to save them."

And so the airship mounted into the air, our friends waving farewells to the simple-hearted blacks, who did a sort of farewell war-dance in their honor, shouting their praises aloud, and beating the drums and tom-toms, so that the echoes followed for some time after the Black Hawk had begun to mount upward toward the sky.

The craft was in excellent shape, due to the overhauling Tom had given it while making the repairs. With the propellers beating the air, and the rudder set to hold them about two thousand feet high, the travelers moved rapidly over clearings, forests and jungles.

It was agreed that now, when they had made such a good start in collecting ivory, that they would spend the next few days in trying to get on the trail of the red pygmies. It might seem a simple matter, after knowing the approximate location of the land of these fierce little natives, to have proceeded directly to it. But Africa is an immense continent, and even in an airship comparatively little of the interior can be seen at a time.

Besides, the red pygmies had a habit of moving from place to place, and they were so small, and so wild, capable of living in very tiny huts or caves, and so primitive, not building regular villages as the other Africans do, that as Ned said, they were as hard to locate as the proverbial flea.

Our friends had a general idea of where to look for them, but on nearing that land, and making inquiries of several friendly tribes, they learned that the red pygmies had suddenly disappeared from their usual haunts.

"I guess they heard that we were after them," said Tom, with a grim smile one day, as he sent the airship down toward the earth, for they were over a great plain, and several native villages could be seen dotted on its surface.

"More likely they are in hiding because they have as captives two white persons," said Mr. Anderson. "They are fierce and fearless, but, nevertheless, they have, in times past, felt the vengeance of the white man, and perhaps they dread that now."

They made a descent, and spent several days making inquiries from the friendly blacks about the race of little men. But scarcely anything was learned. Some of the negro tribes admitted having heard of the red pygmies, and others, with superstitious incantations and imprecations, said they had never heard of them.

One tribe of very large negroes had heard a rumor to the effect that the band of the pygmies was several days' journey from their village, across the mountains, and when Tom sent his airship there, the searchers only found an impenetrable jungle, filled with lions and other wild beasts, but not a sign of the pygmies, and with no elephants to reward their search.

"But we're not going to give up," declared Tom, and the others agreed with him. Forward went the Black Hawk in the search for the imprisoned ones, but, as the days passed, and no news was had, it seemed to grow more and more hopeless.

"I'm afraid if we do find them now," remarked Mr. Anderson at length, "that we'll only recover the bodies of the missionaries."

"Then we'll avenge them," said Tom quietly.

They had stopped at another native village to make inquiries, but without result, and were about to start off again that night when a runner came in to announce that a herd of big elephants was feeding not many miles away.

"Well, we'll stay over a day or so, and get some more ivory," decided Mr. Durban and that night they got ready for what was to prove a big hunt.



CHAPTER XVII

SHOTS FROM ABOVE

"There they are!"

"My, what a lot of big ones!"

"Jove! Mr. Anderson, see those tusks!"

"Yes, you ought to get what you want this time, Mr. Durban."

"Bless my hatband! There must be two hundred of them!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"I'm glad I recharged my rifle last night!" exclaimed Tom Swift. "It's fully loaded now."

Then followed exulting cries and shouts of the natives, who were following our friends, the elephant hunters, who had given voice to the remarks we have just quoted.

It was early in the morning, and the hunt was about to start, for the news brought in by the runner the night before had been closely followed by the brutes themselves, and at dawn our friends were astir, for scouts brought in word that the elephants, including many big ones, were passing along only a few miles from the African village.

Cautiously approaching, with the wind blowing from the elephants to them, the white hunters made their way along. Mr. Durban was in the lead, and when he saw a favorable opportunity he motioned for the others to advance. Then, when he noticed the big bull sentinels of the herd look about as if to detect the presence of enemies, he gave another signal and the hunters sank out of sight in the tall grass.

As for the natives, they were like snakes, unseen but ever present, wriggling along on their hands and knees. They were awaiting the slaughter, when there would be fresh meat in abundance.

At length the old elephant hunter decided that they were near enough to chance some shots. As a matter of fact, Tom Swift, with his electric rifle, had been within range some time before, but as he did not want to spoil the sport for the others, by firing and killing, and so alarming the herd, he had held back. Now they could all shoot together.

"Let her go!" suddenly cried Mr. Durban, and they took aim.

There was a fusillade of reports and several of the big brutes toppled over.

"Bless my toothbrush!" cried Mr. Damon, "that's the time I got one!"

"Yes, and a fine specimen, too!" added Mr. Durban, who had only succeeded in downing a small bull, with an indifferent pair of tusks. "A fine specimen, Mr. Damon, I congratulate you!"

As for Tom Swift, he had killed two of the largest elephants in the herd.

But now the hunters had their work cut out for them, since the beasts had taken fright and were charging away at what seemed an awkward gait, but which, nevertheless, took them rapidly over the ground.

"Come on!" cried Mr. Durban. "We must get some more. Some of the finest tusks I have ever seen are running away from us!"

He began to race after the retreating herd, but it is doubtful if he would have caught up to them had not a band of natives, who had crept up and surrounded the beasts, turned them by shouts and the beating of tom-toms. Seeing an enemy in front of them, the elephants turned, and our friends were able to get in several more shots. Tom Swift picked out only those with immense tusks, and soon had several to his credit. Ned Newton also bagged some prizes.

But finally the elephants, driven to madness by the firing and the yells of the natives, broke through the line of black men, and charged off into the jungle, where it was not only useless but dangerous to follow them.

"Well, we have enough," said Mr. Durban, and when the tusks had been collected it was found that indeed a magnificent and valuable supply had been gathered.

"But I have yet to get my prize ones," said the old hunter with a sigh. "Maybe we'll find the elephant with them when we locate the red pygmies."

"If we do, we'll have our work cut out for us," declared Tom.

As on the other occasion after the hunt, there was a great feast for the natives, who invited tribes from miles around, and for two days, while the tusks were being cut out and cleaned, there were barbeques on every side.

It was one afternoon, when they were seated in the shade of the airship, cleaning their guns, and discussing the plans they had best follow next, that our travellers suddenly heard a great commotion amongst the Africans, who had for the past hour been very quiet, most of them sleeping after the feasts. They yelled and shouted, and began to beat their drums.

"Something is coming," said Ned.

"Perhaps there's going to be a fight," suggested Tom.

"Maybe it's the red pygmies," said Mr. Damon. "Bless my—"

But what he was going to bless he did not say, for at that instant it seemed as if every native in sight suddenly disappeared, almost like magic. They sank down into the grass, darted into their huts, or hid in the tall grass.

"What can it be?" cried Tom, as he looked to see that his rifle was in working order.

"Some enemy," declared Mr. Anderson.

"There they are!" cried Ned Newton, and as he spoke there burst into view, coming from the tall grass that covered the plain about the village, a herd of savage, wild buffaloes. On rushed the shaggy creatures, their long, sharp horns seeming like waving spears as they advanced.

"Here's more sport!" cried Tom.

"No! Not sport! Danger!" yelled Mr. Durban. "They're headed right for us!"

"Then we'll stop them," declared the young inventor, as he raised his gun.

"No! No!" begged the old hunter. "It's as much as our lives are worth to try to stop a rush of wild buffaloes. You couldn't do it with Gatling guns. We can kill a few, but the rest won't stop until they've finished us and the aeroplane too."

"Then what's to be done?" demanded Mr. Anderson.

"Get into the airship!" cried Mr. Durban. "Send her up. It's the only way to get out of their path. Then we can shoot them from above, and drive them away!"

Quickly the adventurers leaped into the craft. On thundered the buffaloes. Tom feared he could not get the motor started quickly enough. He did not dare risk rising by means of the aeroplane feature, but at once started the gas machine.

The big bag began to fill. Nearer came the wild creatures, thundering over the ground, snorting and bellowing with rage.

"Quick, Tom!" yelled Ned, and at that instant the Black Hawk shot upward, just as the foremost of the buffaloes passed underneath, vainly endeavoring to gore the craft with their sweeping horns. The air-travelers had risen just in time.

"Now it's our turn!" shouted Ned, as he began firing from above into the herd of infuriated animals below him. Tom, after seeing that the motor was working well, sent the airship circling about, while standing in the steering tower, he guided his craft here and there, meanwhile pouring a fusillade of his wireless bullets into the buffaloes. Many of them dropped in their tracks, but the big herd continued to rush here and there, crashing into the frail native huts, tearing them down, and, whenever a black man appeared, chasing after him infuriatedly.

"Keep at it!" cried Mr. Durban, as he poured more lead into the buffaloes. "If we don't kill enough of them, and drive the others away, there won't be anything left of this village."



CHAPTER XVIII

NEWS OF THE RED PYGMIES

Seldom had it been the lot of Tom and his companions to take part in such a novel hunting scene as that in which they were now participating. With the airship moving quickly about, darting here and there under the guidance of the young inventor, the erratic movements hither and thither of the buffaloes could be followed exactly. Wherever the mass of the herd went the airship hovered over them.

"Want any help, Tom?" called Ned, who was firing as fast as his gun could be worked.

"I guess not," answered the steersman of the Black Hawk, who was dividing his attention between managing the craft and firing his electric rifle.

The others, too, were kept busy with their weapons, shooting down on the infuriated animals. It seemed like a needless slaughter, but it was not. Had it not been for the white men, the native village, which consisted of only frail huts, would have been completely wiped out by the animals. As it was they were kept "milling" about in a circle in an open space, just as stampeded cattle on the western ranges are kept from getting away, by being forced round and round.

Not a native was in sight, all being hidden away in the jungle or dense grass. The white hunters in their airship had matters to themselves.

At last the firing proved even too much for the buffaloes which, as we have said, are among the most dreaded of African beasts. With bellows of fear, the leading bulls of the herd unable to find the enemy above their heads, darted of into the forest the way they had come.

"There they go!" yelled Mr. Durban.

"Yes, and I'm glad to see the last of them," added Mr. Anderson, with a breath of relief.

"Score another victory for the electric rifle," exclaimed Ned.

"Oh, you did as much execution as I did," declared the inventor of the weapon.

"Bless my ramrod!" cried Mr. Damon. "I never shot so much in all my life before."

"Yes, there is enough food to last the natives for a week," observed Mr. Durban, as Tom adjusted the deflecting rudder to send the airship down.

"It won't last much longer at the rate they eat," spoke the young inventor with a laugh. "I never saw such fellows for appetites! They seem to eat in their sleep."

There were many dead buffaloes, but there was no fear that the meat, which was much prized by the Africans, would be wasted. Already the natives were coming from their hiding places, knowing that the danger was over. Once more they sang the praises of the mighty white hunters, and the magical air craft in which they moved about.

With the elephants previously killed, the buffaloes provided material for a great feast, preparations for which were at once gotten under way, in spite of the fact that the blacks had hardly stopped eating since the big hunt began. But it was about all they had to do.

Some of the buffaloes were very large, and there were a number of pairs of fine horns. Tom and Ned had some of the blacks cut them off for trophies, and they were stored in the airship together with the ivory.

Becoming rather tired of seeing so much feasting, our friends bade the Africans farewell the next day, and once more resumed their quest. They navigated through the air for another week, stopping at several villages, and scanning the jungles and plains by means of powerful telescopes, for a sight of the red pygmies. They also asked for news of the sacking of the missionary settlement, but, beyond meager facts, could learn nothing.

"Well, we've got to keep on, that's all," decided Mr. Durban. "We may find them most unexpectedly."

"I'm sorry if I have taken you away from your work of gathering ivory," spoke Mr. Anderson. "Perhaps you had better let me go, and I'll see if I can't organize a band of friendly blacks, and search for the red dwarfs myself."

"Not much!" exclaimed Tom warmly. "I said we'd help rescue those missionaries, and we'll do it, too!"

"Of course," declared the old elephant hunter. "We have quite a lot of ivory and, while we need more to make it pay well, we can look for it after we rescue the missionaries as well as before. Perhaps there will be a lot of elephants in the pygmies' land."

"I was only thinking that we can't go on forever in the airship." said Mr. Anderson. "You'll have to go back to civilization soon, won't you, Tom, to get gasolene?"

"No, we have enough for at least a month," answered the young inventor. "I took aboard an unusually large supply when we started."

"What would happen if we ran out of it in the jungle?" asked Ned. "Bless my pocketbook! What an unpleasant question!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "You are almost as cheerful, Ned, as was my friend Mr. Parker, the gloomy scientist, who was always predicting dire happenings."

"Well, I was only wondering," said Ned, who was a little abashed by the manner in which his inquiry was received.

"Oh, it would be all right," declared Tom. "We would simply become a balloon, and in time the wind would blow us to some white settlement. There is plenty of material for making the lifting gas."

This was reassuring, and, somewhat easier in mind, Ned took his place in the observation tower which looked down on the jungle over which they were passing.

It was a dense forest. At times there could be seen, in the little clearings, animals darting along. There were numbers of monkeys, an occasional herd of buffaloes were observed, sometimes a solitary stray elephant was noted, and as for birds, there were thousands of them. It was like living over a circus, Ned declared.

They had descended one day just outside a large native village to make inquiries about elephants and the red pygmies. Of the big beasts no signs had been seen in several months, the hunters of the tribe told Mr. Durban. And concerning the red pygmies, the blacks seemed indisposed to talk.

Tom and the others could not understand this, until a witch-doctor, whom the elephant hunter had met some time ago, when he was on a previous expedition, told him that the tribe had a superstitious fear of speaking of the little men.

"They may be around us—in the forest or jungle at any minute," the witch-doctor said. "We never speak of them."

"Say, do you suppose that can be a clew?" asked Tom eagerly. "They may be nearer at hand than we think."

"It's possible." admitted the hunter. "Suppose we stay here for a few days, and I'll see if I can't get some of the natives to go off scouting in the woods, and locate them, or at least put us on the trail of the red dwarfs."

This was considered good advice, and it was decided to adopt it. Accordingly the airship was put in a safe place, and our friends prepared to spend a week, if necessary, in the native village. Their presence with the wonderful craft was a source of wonder, and by means of some trinkets judiciously given to the native king, and also to his head subjects, and to the witch-doctors (who were a power in the land), the good opinion of the tribe was won. Then, by promising rewards to some of the bolder hunters, Mr. Durban finally succeeded in getting them to go off scouting in the jungle for a clew to the red pygmies.

"Now we'll have to wait," said Mr. Anderson, "and I hope we get good news."

Our friends spent their time observing some of the curious customs of the natives, and in witnessing some odd dances gotten up in their honor. They also went hunting, and got plenty of game, for which their hosts were duly grateful. Tom did some night stalking and found his illuminating bullets a great success.

One hot afternoon Tom and Mr. Damon strolled off a little way into the jungle, Tom with his electric weapon, in case he saw any game. But no animals save a few big monkeys where to be seen, and the young inventor scorned to kill them. It seemed too much like firing at a human being he said, though the natives stated that some of the baboons and apes were fierce, and would attack one on the slightest provocation.

"I believe I'll sit down here and rest," said Tom, after a mile's tramp, as he came to a little clearing in the woods.

"Very well, I'll go on," decided Mr. Damon. "Mr. Durban said there were sometimes rare orchids in these jungles, and I am very fond of those odd flowers. I'm going to see if I can get any."

He disappeared behind a fringe of moss-grown trees, and Tom sat down, with his rifle across his knees. He was thinking of many things, but chiefly of what yet lay before them—the discovery of the red dwarfs and the possible rescue of the missionaries.

He might have been thus day-dreaming for perhaps a half hour, when he suddenly heard great commotion in the jungle, in the direction in which Mr. Damon had vanished. It sounded as though some one was running rapidly. Then came the report of the odd man's gun.

"He's seen some game!" exclaimed Tom, jumping up, and preparing to follow his friend. But he did not have the chance. An instant later Mr. Damon burst through the bushes with every appearance of fright, his gun held above his head with one hand, and his pith helmet swaying to and fro in the other.

"They're coming!" he cried to Tom.

"Who, the red pygmies?"

"No, but a couple of rhinoceroses are after me. I wounded one, and he and his mate are right behind. Don't let them catch me, Tom!"

Mr. Damon was very much alarmed, and there was good occasion for it, as Tom saw a moment later, for two fierce rhinoceroses burst out of the jungle almost on the heels of the fleeing man.

Thought was not quicker than Tom Swift. He raised his deadly rifle, and pressed the button. A charge of wireless electricity shot toward the foremost animal, and it was dropped in its tracks. The other came on woofing and snorting with rage. It was the one Mr. Damon had slightly wounded.

"Come on!" yelled the young inventor, for his friend was in front of the beast, and in range with the rifle. "Jump to one side, Mr. Damon."

Mr. Damon tried, but his foot slipped, and there was no need for jumping. He fell and rolled over. The rhinoceros swerved toward him, with the probable intention of goring the prostrate man with the formidable horn, but it had no chance. Once more the young inventor fired, this time with a heavier charge, and the animal instantly toppled over dead.

"Are you hurt?" asked Tom anxiously, as he ran to his friend. Mr. Damon got up slowly. He felt all over himself, and then answered:

"No, Tom, I guess I'm not hurt, except in my dignity. Never again will I fire at a sleeping rhinoceros unless you are with me. I had a narrow escape," and he shook Tom's hand heartily.

"Did you see any orchids?" asked the lad with a smile.

"No, those beasts didn't give me a chance! Bless my tape measure! but they're big fellows!"

Indeed they were fine specimens, and there was the usual rejoicing among the natives when they brought in the great bodies, pulling them to the village with ropes made of vines.

After this Mr. Damon was careful not to go into the jungle alone, nor, in fact, did any of our friends so venture. Mr. Durban said it was not safe.

They remained a full week in the native village, and received no news. In fact, all but one of the hunters came back to report that there was no sign of the red pygmies in that neighborhood.

"Well, I guess we might as well move on, and see what we can do ourselves," said Mr. Durban.

"Let's wait until the last hunter comes back," suggested Tom. "He may bring word."

"Some of his friends think he'll never come back," remarked Mr. Anderson.

"Why not?" asked Ned.

"They think he has been killed by some wild beast."

But this fear was ungrounded. It was on the second day after the killing of the rhinoceroses that, as Tom was tinkering away in the engine-room of the airship, and thinking that perhaps they had better get under way, that a loud shouting was heard among the natives.

"I wonder what's up now?" mused the young inventor as he went outside. He saw Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson running toward the ship. Behind them was a throng of blacks, led by a weary man whom Tom recognized as the missing hunter. The lad's heart beat high with hope. Did the African bring news?

On came Mr. Durban, waving his hands to Tom.

"We've located 'em!" he shouted.

"Not the red pygmies?" asked Tom eagerly.

"Yes; this hunter has news of them. He has been to the border of their country, and narrowly escaped capture. Then he was attacked by a lion, and slightly wounded. But, Tom, now we can get on the trail!"

"Good!" cried the young inventor. "That's fine news!" and he rejoiced that once more there would be activity, for he was tired of remaining in the African camp, and then, too, he wanted to proceed to the rescue. Already it might be too late to save the unfortunate missionaries.



CHAPTER XIX

AN APPEAL FOR HELP

The African hunter's story was soon told. He had gone on farther than had any of his companions, and, being a bold and brave man, had penetrated into the very fastness of the jungle where few would dare to venture.

But even he had despaired of getting on the trail of the fierce little red men, until one afternoon, just at dusk he had heard voices in the forest. Crouching behind a fallen tree, he waited and saw passing by some of the pygmy hunters, armed with bows and arrows, and blowguns. They had been out after game. Cautiously the hunter followed them, until he located one of their odd villages, which consisted of little mud huts, poorly made.

The black hunter remained in the vicinity of the pygmies all that night, and was almost caught, for some wild dogs which hung around the village smelled him out, and attracted to him the attention of the dwarf savages. The hunter took to a tree, and so escaped. Then, carefully marking the trail, he came away in the morning. When near home, a lion had attacked him, but he speared the beast to death, after a hand-to-hand struggle in which his leg was torn.

"And do you think we can find the place?" asked Ned, when Mr. Durban had finished translating the hunter's story.

"I think so," was the reply.

"But is this the settlement where the missionaries are?" asked Tom anxiously.

"That is what we don't know," said Mr. Anderson. "The native scout could not learn that. But once we get on the trail of the dwarfs, I think we can easily find the particular tribe which has the captives."

"At any rate, we'll get started and do something," declared Tom, and the next day, after the African hunter had described, as well as he could, where the place was, the Black Hawk was sent up into the air, good-bys were called down, and once more the adventurers were under way.

It was decided that they had better proceed cautiously, and lower the airship, and anchor it, sometime before getting above the place where the pygmy village was.

"For they may see us, and, though they don't know what our craft is, they may take the alarm and hide deeper in the jungle with the prisoners, where we can't find them," said Tom.

His plan was adopted, and, while it had taken the native hunter several days to reach the borders of the dwarfs' land, those in the airship made the trip in one day. That is, they came as far toward it as they thought would be safe, and one night, having located a landmark which Mr. Durban said was on the border, the nose of the Black Hawk was pointed downward, and soon they were encamped in a little clearing in the midst of the dense jungle which was all about them.

With his electric rifle, Tom noiselessly killed some birds, very much like chicken, of which an excellent meal was made and then, as it became dark very early, and as nothing could be done, they lighted a campfire, and retired inside their craft to pass the night.

It must have been about midnight that Tom, who was a light sleeper at times, was awakened by some noise outside the window near which his stateroom was. He sat up and listened, putting out his hand to where his rifle stood in the corner near his bunk. The lad heard stealthy footsteps pattering about on the deck of the airship. There was a soft, shuffling sound, such as a lion or a tiger makes, when walking on bare boards. In spite of himself, Tom felt the hair on his head beginning to creep, and a shiver ran down his back.

"There's something out there!" he whispered. "I wonder if I'd better awaken the others? No, if it's a sneaking lion, I can manage to kill him, but—"

He paused as another suggestion came to him.

The red pygmies! They went barefoot! Perhaps they were swarming about the ship which they might have discovered in the darkness.

Tom Swift's heart beat rapidly. He got softly out of his bunk, and, with his rifle in hand made his way to the door opening on deck. On his way he gently awakened Ned and Mr. Durban, and whispered to them his fear.

"If the red pygmies are out there we'll need all our force," said the old elephant hunter. "Call Mr. Damon and Mr. Anderson, Ned, and tell them to bring their guns."

Soon they were all ready, fully armed. They listened intently. The airship was all in darkness, for lights drew a horde of insects. The campfire had died down. The soft footsteps could still be heard moving about the deck.

"That sounds like only one person or animal," whispered Ned.

"It does," agreed Tom. "Wait a minute, I'll fire an illuminating charge, and we can see what it is."

The others posted themselves at windows that gave a view of the deck. Tom poked his electric rifle out of a crack of the door, and shot forth into the darkness one of the blue illuminations. The deck of the craft was instantly lighted up brilliantly, and in the glare, crouched on the deck, could be seen a powerful black man, nearly naked, gazing at the hunters.

"A black!" gasped Tom, as the light died out. "Maybe it is one from the village we just left. What do you want? Who are you?" called the lad, forgetting that the Africans spoke only their own language. To the surprise of all, there came his reply in broken English:

"Me Tomba! Me go fo' help for Missy Illingway—fo' Massy Illingway. Me run away from little red men! Me Christian black man. Oh, if you be English, help Missy Illingway—she most die! Please help. Tomba go but Tomba be lost! Please help!"



CHAPTER XX

THE FIGHT

Surprise, for the moment, held Tom and the others speechless. To be answered in English, poor and broken as it was, by a native African, was strange enough, but when this same African was found aboard the airship, in the midst of the jungle, at midnight, it almost passed the bounds of possibility.