“I think I’ll begin to take pictures now,” said Tom, as Ned, in charge of the ship, sent it about in a circle, giving a general view of the rival forces.  “I’ll show a scene of the two crowds getting ready for business, and, later on, when they’re actually giving each other cats and dogs, I’ll get all the pictures possible.”

The camera was started while, safe in the a those on the Flyer watched what went on below them.

Suddenly the forward squads of the two small armies of blacks met.  With wild, weird yells they rushed at each other.  The air was filled with flying arrows and spears.  The sound of the old-fashioned muzzle-loading guns could he heard, and clouds of smoke arose.  Tilting his camera, and arranging the newly attached reflecting mirrors so as to give the effect as if a spectator was looking at the battle from in front, instead of from above, Tom Swift took picture after picture.

The fight was now on.  With yells of rage and defiance the Africans came together, giving blow for blow.  It was a wild melee, and those on the airship looked on fascinated, though greatly wishing that such horrors could be stopped.

“How about it, Tom?” cried Ned.

“Everything going good!  I don’t like this business, but now I’m in it I’m going to stick.  Put me down a little lower,” answered the young inventor.

“All right.  I say Tom, look over there.”

“Where?”

“By that lightning-struck gum tree.  See those two men, and some sort of a machine they’ve got stuck up on stilts?  See it?”

“Sure.  Those are the two Englishmen—­my rivals!  They’re taking pictures, too!”

And then, with a crash and roar, with wild shouts and yells, with volley after volley of firearms, clouds of smoke and flights of arrows and spears, the native battle was in full swing, while the young inventor, sailing above it in his airship, reeled off view after view of the strange sight.

CHAPTER XIX — A HEAVY LOSS

“Bless my battle axe, but this is awful!” cried Mr. Damon.

“War is always a fearful thing,” spoke Mr. Nestor.  “But this is not as bad as if the natives fought with modern weapons.  See! most of them are fighting with clubs, and their fists.  They don’t seem to hurt each other very much.”

“That’s so,” agreed Mr. Damon.  The two gentlemen were in the main cabin, looking down on the fight below them, while Tom, with Ned to help him change the reels of films, as they became filled with pictures, attended to the camera.  Koku was steering the craft, as he had readily learned how to manage it.

“Are those Englishmen taking pictures yet?” asked Tom, too busy to turn his head, and look for himself.

“Yes, they’re still at,” replied Ned.  “But they seem to be having trouble with their machine,” he added as he saw one of the men leave the apparatus, and run hurriedly back to where they had made a temporary camp.