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 t
hose 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 go
t 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 Tom Swift Megapack Page 120
