"Right over place. Oh, Tomba glad when he see Missy an' Massy!"
"Yes, I hope you do see them," murmured Tom, as he pulled the lever
which would pump the gas from the inflated bag, and compress it into
tanks, until it was needed again to make the ship rise. Slowly the
Black Hawk sank down.
"Get ready!" called Tom in a low voice.
It was a tense moment. Every one of the adventurers felt it, and all
but Tom grasped their weapons with tighter grips. They were ready to
spring out as soon as a landing was made. Tom managed the machinery
in the dark, for he knew every wheel, gear and lever, and could have
put his hand on any one with his eyes shut. The two loaded revolvers
were on a shelf in front of him. The side door of the pilot house
was ajar, to allow him quick egress.
Tomba, armed with a big club he had picked up in the jungle, was
ready to follow. The black was eager for the fray to begin, though
how he and the others would fare amid the savages was hard to say.
Still not a sound broke the quiet. It was very dark, for nearly all
the camp fires, over which the nightly feast had been prepared, were
out. The hut could be dimly made out, however.
Suddenly there was a slight tremor through the ship.
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