Part 13 (1/2)
”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, pa.s.sing 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, gra.s.sy 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 superst.i.tious 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, rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+ft 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 airs.h.i.+p 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 airs.h.i.+p 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, brandis.h.i.+ng 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 airs.h.i.+p, 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.