Tom Swift and His Electric Rifle

V >> Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and His Electric Rifle

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

"There they go!" yelled Mr. Durban.

"Yes, and I'm glad to see the last of them," added Mr. Anderson,
with a breath of relief.

"Score another victory for the electric rifle," exclaimed Ned.

"Oh, you did as much execution as I did," declared the inventor of
the weapon.

"Bless my ramrod!" cried Mr. Damon. "I never shot so much in all my
life before."

"Yes, there is enough food to last the natives for a week," observed
Mr. Durban, as Tom adjusted the deflecting rudder to send the
airship down.

"It won't last much longer at the rate they eat," spoke the young
inventor with a laugh. "I never saw such fellows for appetites! They
seem to eat in their sleep."

There were many dead buffaloes, but there was no fear that the meat,
which was much prized by the Africans, would be wasted. Already the
natives were coming from their hiding places, knowing that the
danger was over. Once more they sang the praises of the mighty white
hunters, and the magical air craft in which they moved about.

With the elephants previously killed, the buffaloes provided
material for a great feast, preparations for which were at once
gotten under way, in spite of the fact that the blacks had hardly
stopped eating since the big hunt began. But it was about all they
had to do.

Some of the buffaloes were very large, and there were a number of
pairs of fine horns. Tom and Ned had some of the blacks cut them off
for trophies, and they were stored in the airship together with the
ivory.

Becoming rather tired of seeing so much feasting, our friends bade
the Africans farewell the next day, and once more resumed their
quest. They navigated through the air for another week, stopping at
several villages, and scanning the jungles and plains by means of
powerful telescopes, for a sight of the red pygmies. They also asked
for news of the sacking of the missionary settlement, but, beyond
meager facts, could learn nothing.

"Well, we've got to keep on, that's all," decided Mr. Durban. "We
may find them most unexpectedly."

"I'm sorry if I have taken you away from your work of gathering
ivory," spoke Mr. Anderson. "Perhaps you had better let me go, and
I'll see if I can't organize a band of friendly blacks, and search
for the red dwarfs myself."

"Not much!" exclaimed Tom warmly. "I said we'd help rescue those
missionaries, and we'll do it, too!"

"Of course," declared the old elephant hunter. "We have quite a lot
of ivory and, while we need more to make it pay well, we can look
for it after we rescue the missionaries as well as before. Perhaps
there will be a lot of elephants in the pygmies' land."

"I was only thinking that we can't go on forever in the airship."
said Mr. Anderson. "You'll have to go back to civilization soon,
won't you, Tom, to get gasolene?"

"No, we have enough for at least a month," answered the young
inventor. "I took aboard an unusually large supply when we started."

"What would happen if we ran out of it in the jungle?" asked Ned.
"Bless my pocketbook! What an unpleasant question!" exclaimed Mr.
Damon. "You are almost as cheerful, Ned, as was my friend Mr.
Parker, the gloomy scientist, who was always predicting dire
happenings."

"Well, I was only wondering," said Ned, who was a little abashed by
the manner in which his inquiry was received.

"Oh, it would be all right," declared Tom. "We would simply become a
balloon, and in time the wind would blow us to some white
settlement. There is plenty of material for making the lifting gas."

This was reassuring, and, somewhat easier in mind, Ned took his
place in the observation tower which looked down on the jungle over
which they were passing.

It was a dense forest. At times there could be seen, in the little
clearings, animals darting along. There were numbers of monkeys, an
occasional herd of buffaloes were observed, sometimes a solitary
stray elephant was noted, and as for birds, there were thousands of
them. It was like living over a circus, Ned declared.

They had descended one day just outside a large native village to
make inquiries about elephants and the red pygmies. Of the big
beasts no signs had been seen in several months, the hunters of the
tribe told Mr. Durban. And concerning the red pygmies, the blacks
seemed indisposed to talk.

Tom and the others could not understand this, until a witch-doctor,
whom the elephant hunter had met some time ago, when he was on a
previous expedition, told him that the tribe had a superstitious
fear of speaking of the little men.

"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. They also went hunting, and got plenty of game, for which
their hosts were duly grateful. Tom did some night stalking and
found his illuminating bullets a great success.

One hot afternoon Tom and Mr. Damon strolled off a little way into
the jungle, Tom with his electric weapon, in case he saw any game.
But no animals save a few big monkeys where to be seen, and the
young inventor scorned to kill them. It seemed too much like firing
at a human being he said, though the natives stated that some of the
baboons and apes were fierce, and would attack one on the slightest
provocation.

"I believe I'll sit down here and rest," said Tom, after a mile's
tramp, as he came to a little clearing in the woods.

"Very well, I'll go on," decided Mr. Damon. "Mr. Durban said there
were sometimes rare orchids in these jungles, and I am very fond of
those odd flowers. I'm going to see if I can get any."

He disappeared behind a fringe of moss-grown trees, and Tom sat
down, with his rifle across his knees. He was thinking of many
things, but chiefly of what yet lay before them--the discovery of
the red dwarfs and the possible rescue of the missionaries.

He might have been thus day-dreaming for perhaps a half hour, when
he suddenly heard great commotion in the jungle, in the direction in
which Mr. Damon had vanished. It sounded as though some one was
running rapidly. Then came the report of the odd man's gun.

"He's seen some game!" exclaimed Tom, jumping up, and preparing to
follow his friend. But he did not have the chance. An instant later
Mr. Damon burst through the bushes with every appearance of fright,
his gun held above his head with one hand, and his pith helmet
swaying to and fro in the other.

"They're coming!" he cried to Tom.

"Who, the red pygmies?"

"No, but a couple of rhinoceroses are after me. I wounded one, and
he and his mate are right behind. Don't let them catch me, Tom!"

Mr. Damon was very much alarmed, and there was good occasion for it,
as Tom saw a moment later, for two fierce rhinoceroses burst out of
the jungle almost on the heels of the fleeing man.

Thought was not quicker than Tom Swift. He raised his deadly rifle,
and pressed the button. A charge of wireless electricity shot toward
the foremost animal, and it was dropped in its tracks. The other
came on woofing and snorting with rage. It was the one Mr. Damon had
slightly wounded.

"Come on!" yelled the young inventor, for his friend was in front of
the beast, and in range with the rifle. "Jump to one side, Mr.
Damon."

Mr. Damon tried, but his foot slipped, and there was no need for
jumping. He fell and rolled over. The rhinoceros swerved toward him,
with the probable intention of goring the prostrate man with the
formidable horn, but it had no chance. Once more the young inventor
fired, this time with a heavier charge, and the animal instantly
toppled over dead.

"Are you hurt?" asked Tom anxiously, as he ran to his friend. Mr.
Damon got up slowly. He felt all over himself, and then answered:

"No, Tom, I guess I'm not hurt, except in my dignity. Never again
will I fire at a sleeping rhinoceros unless you are with me. I had a
narrow escape," and he shook Tom's hand heartily.

"Did you see any orchids?" asked the lad with a smile.

"No, those beasts didn't give me a chance! Bless my tape measure!
but they're big fellows!"

Indeed they were fine specimens, and there was the usual rejoicing
among the natives when they brought in the great bodies, pulling
them to the village with ropes made of vines.

After this Mr. Damon was careful not to go into the jungle alone,
nor, in fact, did any of our friends so venture. Mr. Durban said it
was not safe.

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.

"Not the red pygmies?" asked Tom eagerly.

"Yes; this hunter has news of them. He has been to the border of
their country, and narrowly escaped capture. Then he was attacked by
a lion, and slightly wounded. But, Tom, now we can get on the
trail!"

"Good!" cried the young inventor. "That's fine news!" and he
rejoiced that once more there would be activity, for he was tired of
remaining in the African camp, and then, too, he wanted to proceed
to the rescue. Already it might be too late to save the unfortunate
missionaries.

CHAPTER XIX

AN APPEAL FOR HELP

The African hunter's story was soon told. He had gone on farther
than had any of his companions, and, being a bold and brave man, had
penetrated into the very fastness of the jungle where few would dare
to venture.

But even he had despaired of getting on the trail of the fierce
little red men, until one afternoon, just at dusk he had heard
voices in the forest. Crouching behind a fallen tree, he waited and
saw passing by some of the pygmy hunters, armed with bows and
arrows, and blowguns. They had been out after game. Cautiously the
hunter followed them, until he located one of their odd villages,
which consisted of little mud huts, poorly made.

The black hunter remained in the vicinity of the pygmies all that
night, and was almost caught, for some wild dogs which hung around
the village smelled him out, and attracted to him the attention of
the dwarf savages. The hunter took to a tree, and so escaped. Then,
carefully marking the trail, he came away in the morning. When near
home, a lion had attacked him, but he speared the beast to death,
after a hand-to-hand struggle in which his leg was torn.

"And do you think we can find the place?" asked Ned, when Mr. Durban
had finished translating the hunter's story.

"I think so," was the reply.

"But is this the settlement where the missionaries are?" asked Tom
anxiously.

"That is what we don't know," said Mr. Anderson. "The native scout
could not learn that. But once we get on the trail of the dwarfs, I
think we can easily find the particular tribe which has the
captives."

"At any rate, we'll get started and do something," declared Tom, and
the next day, after the African hunter had described, as well as he
could, where the place was, the Black Hawk was sent up into the air,
good-bys were called down, and once more the adventurers were under
way.

It was decided that they had better proceed cautiously, and lower
the airship, and anchor it, sometime before getting above the place
where the pygmy village was.

"For they may see us, and, though they don't know what our craft is,
they may take the alarm and hide deeper in the jungle with the
prisoners, where we can't find them," said Tom.

His plan was adopted, and, while it had taken the native hunter
several days to reach the borders of the dwarfs' land, those in the
airship made the trip in one day. That is, they came as far toward
it as they thought would be safe, and one night, having located a
landmark which Mr. Durban said was on the border, the nose of the
Black Hawk was pointed downward, and soon they were encamped in a
little clearing in the midst of the dense jungle which was all about
them.

With his electric rifle, Tom noiselessly killed some birds, very
much like chicken, of which an excellent meal was made and then, as
it became dark very early, and as nothing could be done, they
lighted a campfire, and retired inside their craft to pass the
night.

It must have been about midnight that Tom, who was a light sleeper
at times, was awakened by some noise outside the window near which
his stateroom was. He sat up and listened, putting out his hand to
where his rifle stood in the corner near his bunk. The lad heard
stealthy footsteps pattering about on the deck of the airship. There
was a soft, shuffling sound, such as a lion or a tiger makes, when
walking on bare boards. In spite of himself, Tom felt the hair on
his head beginning to creep, and a shiver ran down his back.

"There's something out there!" he whispered. "I wonder if I'd better
awaken the others? No, if it's a sneaking lion, I can manage to kill
him, but--"

He paused as another suggestion came to him.

The red pygmies! They went barefoot! Perhaps they were swarming
about the ship which they might have discovered in the darkness.

Tom Swift's heart beat rapidly. He got softly out of his bunk, and,
with his rifle in hand made his way to the door opening on deck. On
his way he gently awakened Ned and Mr. Durban, and whispered to them
his fear.

"If the red pygmies are out there we'll need all our force," said
the old elephant hunter. "Call Mr. Damon and Mr. Anderson, Ned, and
tell them to bring their guns."

Soon they were all ready, fully armed. They listened intently. The
airship was all in darkness, for lights drew a horde of insects. The
campfire had died down. The soft footsteps could still be heard
moving about the deck.

"That sounds like only one person or animal," whispered Ned.

"It does," agreed Tom. "Wait a minute, I'll fire an illuminating
charge, and we can see what it is."

The others posted themselves at windows that gave a view of the
deck. Tom poked his electric rifle out of a crack of the door, and
shot forth into the darkness one of the blue illuminations. The deck
of the craft was instantly lighted up brilliantly, and in the glare,
crouched on the deck, could be seen a powerful black man, nearly
naked, gazing at the hunters.

"A black!" gasped Tom, as the light died out. "Maybe it is one from
the village we just left. What do you want? Who are you?" called the
lad, forgetting that the Africans spoke only their own language. To
the surprise of all, there came his reply in broken English:

"Me Tomba! Me go fo' help for Missy Illingway--fo' Massy Illingway.
Me run away from little red men! Me Christian black man. Oh, if you
be English, help Missy Illingway--she most die! Please help. Tomba
go but Tomba be lost! Please help!"

CHAPTER XX

THE FIGHT

Surprise, for the moment, held Tom and the others speechless. To be
answered in English, poor and broken as it was, by a native African,
was strange enough, but when this same African was found aboard the
airship, in the midst of the jungle, at midnight, it almost passed
the bounds of possibility.

"Tomba!" mused Tom, wondering where he had heard that name before.
"Tomba?"

"Of course!" cried Mr. Anderson, suddenly. "Don't you remember?
That's the name of the servant of Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, who
escaped and brought news of their capture by the pygmies. That's who
Tomba is."

"Yes, but Tomba escaped," objected Mr. Durban. "He went to the white
settlements with the news. How comes he here?"

"We'll have to find out," said Tom, simply. "Tomba, are you there?"
he called, as he fired other illuminating charge. It disclosed the
black man standing up on the deck, and looking at them appealingly.

"Yes, Tomba here," was the answer. "Oh, you be English, Tomba know.
Please help Missy and Massy Illingway. Red devils goin' kill 'em
pretty much quick."

"Come in!" called Tom, as he turned on the electric lights in the
airship. "Come in and tell us all about it. But how did you get
here?"

"Maybe there are two Tombas," suggested Ned.

"Bless my safety razor!" cried Mr. Damon "perhaps Ned is right!"

But he wasn't, as they learned when they had questioned the African,
who came inside the airship, looking wonderingly around at the many
strange things he saw. He was the same Tomba who had escaped the
massacre, and had taken news of the capture of his master and
mistress to the white settlement. In vain after that he had tried to
organize a band to go back with him to the rescue, but the whites in
the settlement were too few, and the natives too timid. Then Tomba,
with grief in his heart, and not wanting to live while the
missionaries whom he had come to care for very much, were captives,
he went back into the jungle, determined, if he could not help them,
that at least he would share their fate, and endeavor to be of some
service to them in their captivity.

After almost unbelievable hardships, he had found the red pygmies,
and had allowed himself to be captured by them. They rejoiced
greatly in the possession of the big black man, and for some strange
reason had not killed him. He was allowed to share the captivity of
his master and mistress.

Time went on, and the pygmies did not kill their prisoners. They
even treated them with some kindness but were going to sacrifice
them at their great annual festival, which was soon to take place.
Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, Tomba told our friends in his broken
English, had urged him to escape at the first opportunity. They knew
if he could get away he would travel through the jungle. They could
not, even if they had not been so closely guarded that escape was
out of the question.

But Tomba refused to go until Mr. Illingway had said that perhaps he
might get word to some white hunters, and so send help to the
captives. This Tomba consented to do, and, watching his chance, he
did escape. That was several nights ago, and he had been traveling
through the jungle ever since. It was by mere accident that he came
upon the anchored airship, and his curiosity led him to board her.
The rest is known.

"Well, of all queer yarns, this is the limit!" exclaimed Tom, when
the black had finished. "What had we better do about it?"

"Get ready to attack the red pygmies at once!" decided Mr. Durban.
"If we wait any longer it may be too late!"

"My idea, exactly," declared Mr. Anderson.

"Bless my bowie-knife!" cried Mr. Damon. "It'd like to get a chance
at the red imps! Come on, Tom! Let's start at once."

"No, we need daylight to fight by," replied Tom, with a smile at his
friend's enthusiasm. "We'll go forward in the morning."

"In the airship?" asked Mr. Damon.

"I think so," answered Tom. "There can be no advantage now in trying
to conceal ourselves. We can move upon them from where we are so
quickly that they won't have much chance to get away. Besides it
will take us too long to make our way through the jungle afoot. For,
now that the escape of Tomba must be known, they may kill the
captives at once to forestall any rescue."

"Then we'll move forward in the morning," declared Mr. Durban.

They took Tomba with them in the airship the next day, though he
prayed fervently before he consented to it. But they needed him to
point out the exact location of the pygmies' village, since it was
not the one the hunter-scout had been near.

The Black Hawk sailed through the air. On board eager eyes looked
down for a first sight of the red imps. Tomba, who was at Tom's side
in the steering tower, told him, as best he could, from time to
time, how to set the rudders.

"Pretty soon by-em-by be there," said the black man at length. "Pass
ober dat hill, den red devils live."

"Well, we'll soon be over that hill," announced Tom grimly. "I guess
we'd better get our rifles ready for the battle."

"Are you going to attack them at once?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Well," answered the young inventor, "I don't believe we ought to
kill any of them if we can avoid it. I don't like to do such a thing
but, perhaps we can't help ourselves. My plan is to take the airship
down, close to the hut where the missionaries are confined. Tomba
can point it out to us. If we can rescue them without bloodshed, so
much the better. But we'll fight if we have to."

Grimly they watched as the airship sailed over the hill. Then
suddenly there came into view a collection of mud huts on a vast
plain, surrounded by dense jungle on every side. As the travelers
looked, they could see little creatures running wildly about. Even
without a glass it could be noted that their bodies were covered
with a curious growth of thick sandy hair.

"The red pygmies!" cried Tom. "Now for the rescue!"

Eagerly Tomba indicated the hut where his master and mistress were
held. Telling his friends to have their weapons in readiness, Tom
steered the airship toward the rude shelter whence he hoped to take
the missionaries. Down to the ground swiftly shot the Black Hawk.
Tom checked her with a quick movement of the deflecting rudder, and
she landed gently on the wheels.

"Mr. Illingway! Mrs. Illingway! We have come to rescue you!" yelled
the young inventor, as he stepped out on the deck, with his electric
rifle in his hand. "Where are you? Can you come out?"

The door of the hut was burst open, and a white man and woman,
recognizable as such, even in the rude skins that clothed them,
rushed out. Wonder spread over their faces as they saw the great
airship. They dropped on their knees.

The next instant a swarm of savage little red men surrounded them,
and rudely bore them, strugglingly, back into the hut.

"Come on!" cried Tom, about to leap to the ground. "It's now or
never! We must save them!"

Mr. Durban pulled him back, and pointed to a horde of the red-haired
savages rushing toward the airship. "They'd tear you to pieces in a
minute!" cried the old hunter. "We must fight them from the ship."

There was a curious whistling sound in the air. Mr. Durban looked
up.

"Duck, everybody!" he yelled. "They're firing arrows at us! Get
under shelter, for they may be poisoned!"

Tom and the others darted into the craft. The arrows rattled on deck
in a shower, and hundreds of the red imps were rushing up to give
battle. Inside the hut where the missionaries were, it was now
quiet. Tom Swift wondered if they still lived.

"Give 'em as good as they send!" cried Mr. Durban. "We will have to
fire at them now. Open up with your electric rifle, Tom!"

As he spoke the elephant hunter fired into the midst of the
screaming savages. The battle had begun.

CHAPTER XXI

DRIVEN BACK

What the travelers had heard regarding the fierceness and courage of
the red pygmies had not been one bit exaggerated. Never had such
desperate fighting ever taken place. The red dwarfs, scarcely one of
whom was more than three feet high, were strongly built, and there
were so many of them, and they battled together with such singleness
of purpose, that they were more formidable than a tribe of ordinary-
sized savages would have been.

And their purpose was to utterly annihilate the enemy that had so
unexpectedly come upon them. It did not matter to them that Tom and
the others had arrived in an airship. The strange craft had no
superstitious terror for them, as it had for the simpler blacks.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10