They remained a full week in the native village, and received no
news. In fact, all but one of the hunters came back to report that
there was no sign of the red pygmies in that neighborhood.
"Well, I guess we might as well move on, and see what we can do
ourselves," said Mr. Durban.
"Let's wait until the last hunter comes back," suggested Tom. "He
may bring word."
"Some of his friends think he'll never come back," remarked Mr.
Anderson.
"Why not?" asked Ned.
"They think he has been killed by some wild beast."
But this fear was ungrounded. It was on the second day after the
killing of the rhinoceroses that, as Tom was tinkering away in the
engine-room of the airship, and thinking that perhaps they had
better get under way, that a loud shouting was heard among the
natives.
"I wonder what's up now?" mused the young inventor as he went
outside. He saw Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson running toward the ship.
Behind them was a throng of blacks, led by a weary man whom Tom
recognized as the missing hunter. The lad's heart beat high with
hope. Did the African bring news?
On came Mr. Durban, waving his hands to Tom.
"We've located 'em!" he shouted.
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