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Page 37
"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.
"I can speak a little of their language," remarked Mr. Durban, "but
what in the world are the beggars up to, anyhow? I supposed they'd
send a volley of arrows at us, first shot, but they don't seem to be
going to do that."
"No, they're dancing around us," said Tom.
"That's it!" exclaimed Mr. Anderson. "I have it! Why didn't I think
of it before? The natives are welcoming us!"
"Welcoming us?" repeated Ned.
"Yes," went on the missionary seeker. "They are doing a dance in our
honor, and they have even called out the witch-doctors to do us
homage."
"That's right," agreed Mr. Durban, who was listening to the chanting
of the natives dressed in animal skins. "They take us for spirits
from another land, and are making us welcome here. Listen, I'll see
if I can make out what else they are saying."
The character of the shouts and chants changed abruptly, and the
dancing increased in fervor, even the children throwing themselves
wildly about. The witch-doctors ran around like so many maniacs, and
it looked as much like an American Indian war dance as anything
else.
"I've got it!" shouted Mr. Durban, for he had to call loudly to be
heard above the din. "They are asking us to make it rain. It seems
there has been a dry spell here, and their own rain-makers and
witch-doctors haven't been able to get a drop out of the sky. Now,
they take it that we have come to help them. They think we are going
to bring rain."
"And if we don't, what will happen?" asked Tom.
"Maybe they won't be quite so glad to see us," was the answer.
"Well, if they don't mean war, we might as well put up our weapons,"
suggested Mr. Anderson. "If they're going to be friendly, so much
the better, and if it should happen to rain while we're here, they'd
think we brought it, and we could have almost anything we wanted.
Perhaps they have a store of ivory hidden away, Mr. Durban. Some of
these tribes do."
"It's possible, but the chances for rain are very small. How long
will we have to stay here, Tom Swift?" asked the elephant hunter
anxiously.
"Well, perhaps I can get the motor mended in two or three days,"
answered the young inventor.
"Then we'll have to stay here in the meanwhile," decided Mr. Durban.
"Well, we'll make the best of it. Ha, here comes the native king to
do us honor," and, as he spoke there came toward the airship a
veritable giant of a black man, wearing a leopard skin as a royal
garment, while on his head was a much battered derby hat, probably
purchased at a fabulous price from some trader. The king, if such he
could be called, was accompanied by a number of attendants and
witch-doctors. In front walked a small man, who, as it developed,
was an interpreter. The little cavalcade advanced close to the
airship, and came to a halt. The king made a low bow, either to the
craft or to the elephant hunters drawn up in front of it. His
attendants followed his example, and then the interpreter began to
speak.
Mr. Durban listened intently, made a brief answer to the little man,
and then the elephant hunter's face lighted up.
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