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.