THE NATIVE BATTLE
"By Jove, Tom, here they come!"
"From over by that drinking pool?"
"Yes, just as the spies said they would. Wow, what a crowd of the black
beggars there are! And some of 'em have regular guns, too. But most of
'em have clubs, bows and arrows, blow guns, or spears."
Tom and Ned were standing on the forward part of the airship, which was
moving slowly along, over an open plateau, in the jungle where the
native battle was about to take place. Our friends had left the town
where the missionaries lived, and had hovered over the jungle, until
they saw signs of the coming struggle. They had seen nothing of their
English rivals since coming away, but had no doubt but that the
Britishers were somewhere in the neighborhood.
The two forces of black men, who had gone to war over a dispute about
some cattle, approached each other. There was the beating of tom-toms,
and skin drums, and many weird shouts. From their vantage point in the
air, Tom and his companions had an excellent view. The Wizard Camera
was loaded with a long reel of film, and ready for action.
"Bless my handkerchief!" cried Mr. Damon, as he looked down on the
forces that were about to clash. "I never saw anything like this
before!"
"I either," admitted Tom. "But, if things go right, I'm going to get
some dandy films!"
Nearer and nearer the rival forces advanced. At first they had stared,
and shouted in wonder at the sight of the airship, hovering above them,
but their anger soon drew their attention to the fighting at hand, and,
after useless gestures toward the craft of the air, and after some of
them had vainly fired their guns or arrows at it, they paid no more
attention, but rushed on with their shouts and cries and amid the
beating of their rude drums.
"I think I'll begin to take pictures now," said Tom, as Ned, in charge
of the ship, sent it about in a circle, giving a general view of the
rival forces. "I'll show a scene of the two crowds getting ready for
business, and, later on, when they're actually giving each other cats
and dogs, I'll get all the pictures possible."
The camera was started while, safe in the air those on the Flyer watched
what went on below them.
Suddenly the forward squads of the two small armies of blacks met. With
wild, weird yells they rushed at each other. The air was filled with
flying arrows and spears. The sound of the old-fashioned muzzle-loading
guns could be heard, and clouds of smoke arose. Tilting his camera, and
arranging the newly attached reflecting mirrors so as to give the
effect as if a spectator was looking at the battle from in front,
instead of from above, Tom Swift took picture after picture.
The fight was now on. With yells of rage and defiance the Africans came
together, giving blow for blow. It was a wild melee, and those on the
airship looked on fascinated, though greatly wishing that such horrors
could be stopped.
"How about it, Tom?" cried Ned.
"Everything going good! I don't like this business, but now I'm in it
I'm going to stick. Put me down a little lower," answered the young
inventor.
"All right. I say Tom, look over there."
"Where?"
"By that lightning-struck gum tree. See those two men, and some sort of
a machine they've got stuck up on stilts? See it?"
"Sure. Those are the two Englishmen--my rivals! They're taking
pictures, too!"
And then, with a crash and roar, with wild shouts and yells, with
volley after volley of firearms, clouds of smoke and flights of arrows
and spears, the native battle was in full swing, while the young
inventor, sailing above it in his airship, reeled off view after view
of the strange sight.