In a few minutes the party of hunters, who were now playing more in the role of the hunted, came out into the open.  They could hear the natives beating on their big hollow tree drums, and on tom-toms, while the witch-doctors and medicine men were chanting weird songs to drive the elephants away.

But the beasts came on.  One by one they emerged from the jungle, until the herd was gathered together again in a compact mass.  Then, under the leadership of some big bulls, they advanced.  It seemed as if they knew what they were doing, and were determined to revenge themselves by trampling the natives’ huts under their ponderous feet.

But Tom and the others were not idle.  Taking a position off to one side, the young inventor began pouring a fusillade of the electric bullets into the mass of slate-colored bodies.  Mr. Anderson was also firing, and Ned, who had gotten over some of his excitement, was also doing execution.  Mr. Durban, after vainly trying to get his rifle to work, cast it aside.  “Here!  Let me take your gun!” he cried to Mr. Damon, who, panting from the run, was sitting beneath a tree.

“Bless my cartridge belt!  Take it and welcome!” assented the eccentric man.  It still had several shots in the magazine, and these the old hunter used with good effect.

At first it seemed as if the elephants could not be turned back.  They kept on rushing toward the village, which was not far away, and Tom and the others followed at one side, as best they could, firing rapidly.  The electric rifle did fearful execution.

Emboldened by the fear that all their possessions would be destroyed a body of the natives rushed out, right in front of the elephants, and beat tom-toms and drums, almost under their feet, at the same time singing wild songs.

“I’m afraid we can’t stop them!” muttered Mr. Anderson.  “We’d better hurry to the airship, and protect that, Tom.”

But, almost as he spoke, the tide of battle turned.  The elephants suddenly swung about, and began a retreat.  They could not stand the hot fire of the four guns, including Tom’s fearful weapon.  With wild trumpetings they fled back into the jungle, leaving a number of their dead behind.

“A close call,” murmured Tom, as he drew a breath of relief.  Indeed this was true, for the tide had turned when the foremost elephants were not a hundred feet away from the first rows of native huts.

“I should say it was,” agreed Ned Newton, wiping his face with his handkerchief.  He, as well as the others, was an odd-looking sight.  They were blackened by powder smoke, scratched by briars, and red from exertion.

“But we got more ivory in this hour than I could have secured in a week of ordinary hunting” declared Mr. Durban.  “If this keeps up we won’t have to get much more, except that I don’t think any of the tusks to-day are large enough for the special purpose of my customer.”

“The sooner we get enough ivory the quicker we can go to the rescue of the missionaries,” said Mr. Anderson.