“I am sorry to say, I fear there will be fighting among the tribesmen,” replied Mr. Janeway, one of the Christian workers.  “It has not yet taken place, though.”

“Then I’m not too late!” cried Tom, and there was exultation in his voice.  “I don’t mean to be barbarous,” he went on, as he saw that the missionaries looked shocked, “but as long as they are going to fight I want to get the pictures.”

“Oh, they’ll fight all right,” spoke Mrs. Janeway.  “The poor, ignorant natives here are always ready to fight.  This time I think it is about some cattle that one tribe took from another.”

“And where will the battle take place?” asked Tom.

“Well, the rumors we have, seem to indicate that the fight will take place about ten miles north of here.  We will have notice of it before it starts, as some of the natives, whom we have succeeded in converting, belong to the tribe that is to be attacked.  They will be summoned to the defense of their town and then it will be time enough for you to go.  Oh, war is a terrible thing!  I do not like to talk about it.  Tell me how you rescued our friends from the red pygmies,” and Tom was obliged to relate that story, which I have told in detail elsewhere.

Several days passed, and Tom and his friends spent a pleasant time in the African village with the missionaries.  The airship and camera were in readiness for instant use, and during this period of idleness our hero got several fine films of animal scenes, including a number of night-fights among the beasts at the drinking pools.  One tiger battle was especially good, from a photographic standpoint.

One afternoon, a number of native bearers came into the town.  They preceded two white men, who were evidently sportsmen, or explorers, and the latter had a well equipped caravan.  The strangers sought the advice of the missionaries about where big game might be found, and Tom happened to be at the cottage of Mr. Janeway when the strangers arrived.

The young inventor looked at them critically, as he was introduced to them.  Both men spoke with an English accent, one introducing himself as Bruce Montgomery, and the other as Wade Kenneth.  Tom decided that they were of the ordinary type of globe-trotting Britishers, until, on his way to his airship, he passed the place where the native bearers had set down the luggage of the Englishmen.

“Whew!” whistled Tom, as he caught sight of a peculiarly shaped box.  “See that, Ned?”

“Yes, what is it?  A new kind of magazine gun?”

“It’s a moving picture camera, or I lose my guess!” whispered Tom.  “One of the old fashioned kind.  Those men are no more tourists, or after big game, than I am!  They’re moving picture men, and they’re here to get views of that native battle!  Ned, we’ve got to be on our guard.  They may be in the pay of that Turbot and Eckert firm, and they may try to do us some harm!”

“That’s so!” exclaimed Ned.  “We’ll keep watch of them, Tom.”