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Page 47
"No! Not sport! Danger!" yelled Mr. Durban. "They're headed right
for us!"
"Then we'll stop them," declared the young inventor, as he raised
his gun.
"No! No!" begged the old hunter. "It's as much as our lives are
worth to try to stop a rush of wild buffaloes. You couldn't do it
with Gatling guns. We can kill a few, but the rest won't stop until
they've finished us and the aeroplane too."
"Then what's to be done?" demanded Mr. Anderson.
"Get into the airship!" cried Mr. Durban. "Send her up. It's the
only way to get out of their path. Then we can shoot them from
above, and drive them away!"
Quickly the adventurers leaped into the craft. On thundered the
buffaloes. Tom feared he could not get the motor started quickly
enough. He did not dare risk rising by means of the aeroplane
feature, but at once started the gas machine.
The big bag began to fill. Nearer came the wild creatures,
thundering over the ground, snorting and bellowing with rage.
"Quick, Tom!" yelled Ned, and at that instant the Black Hawk shot
upward, just as the foremost of the buffaloes passed underneath,
vainly endeavoring to gore the craft with their sweeping horns. The
air-travelers had risen just in time.
"Now it's our turn!" shouted Ned, as he began firing from above into
the herd of infuriated animals below him. Tom, after seeing that the
motor was working well, sent the airship circling about, while
standing in the steering tower, he guided his craft here and there,
meanwhile pouring a fusillade of his wireless bullets into the
buffaloes. Many of them dropped in their tracks, but the big herd
continued to rush here and there, crashing into the frail native
huts, tearing them down, and, whenever a black man appeared, chasing
after him infuriatedly.
"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.
Not a native was in sight, all being hidden away in the jungle or
dense grass. The white hunters in their airship had matters to
themselves.
At last the firing proved even too much for the buffaloes which, as
we have said, are among the most dreaded of African beasts. With
bellows of fear, the leading bulls of the herd unable to find the
enemy above their heads, darted of into the forest the way they had
come.
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