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!"