“Something is coming,” said Ned.

“Perhaps there’s going to be a fight,” suggested Tom.

“Maybe it’s the red pygmies,” said Mr. Damon.  “Bless my—­”

But what he was going to bless he did not say, for at that instant it seemed as if every native in sight suddenly disappeared, almost like magic.  They sank down into the grass, darted into their huts, or hid in the tall grass.

“What can it be?” cried Tom, as he looked to see that his rifle was in working order.

“Some enemy,” declared Mr. Anderson.

“There they are!” cried Ned Newton, and as he spoke there burst into view, coming from the tall grass that covered the plain about the village, a herd of savage, wild buffaloes.  On rushed the shaggy creatures, their long, sharp horns seeming like waving spears as they advanced.

“Here’s more sport!” cried Tom.

“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