"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.
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