"They may be around us--in the forest or jungle at any minute," the
witch-doctor said. "We never speak of them."
"Say, do you suppose that can be a clew?" asked Tom eagerly. "They
may be nearer at hand than we think."
"It's possible." admitted the hunter. "Suppose we stay here for a
few days, and I'll see if I can't get some of the natives to go off
scouting in the woods, and locate them, or at least put us on the
trail of the red dwarfs."
This was considered good advice, and it was decided to adopt it.
Accordingly the airship was put in a safe place, and our friends
prepared to spend a week, if necessary, in the native village. Their
presence with the wonderful craft was a source of wonder, and by
means of some trinkets judiciously given to the native king, and
also to his head subjects, and to the witch-doctors (who were a
power in the land), the good opinion of the tribe was won. Then, by
promising rewards to some of the bolder hunters, Mr. Durban finally
succeeded in getting them to go off scouting in the jungle for a
clew to the red pygmies.
"Now we'll have to wait," said Mr. Anderson, "and I hope we get good
news."
Our friends spent their time observing some of the curious customs
of the natives, and in witnessing some odd dances gotten up in their
honor.
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