But this fear was ungrounded.  It was on the second day after the killing of the rhinoceroses that, as Tom was tinkering away in the engine-room of the airship, and thinking that perhaps they had better get under way, that a loud shouting was heard among the natives.

“I wonder what’s up now?” mused the young inventor as he went outside.  He saw Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson running toward the ship.  Behind them was a throng of blacks, led by a weary man whom Tom recognized as the missing hunter.  The lad’s heart beat high with hope.  Did the African bring news?

On came Mr. Durban, waving his hands to Tom.

“We’ve located ’em!” he shouted.

“Not the red pygmies?” asked Tom eagerly.

“Yes; this hunter has news of them.  He has been to the border of their country, and narrowly escaped capture.  Then he was attacked by a lion, and slightly wounded.  But, Tom, now we can get on the trail!”

“Good!” cried the young inventor.  “That’s fine news!” and he rejoiced that once more there would be activity, for he was tired of remaining in the African camp, and then, too, he wanted to proceed to the rescue.  Already it might be too late to save the unfortunate missionaries.

CHAPTER XIX

AN APPEAL FOR HELP

The African hunter’s story was soon told.  He had gone on farther than had any of his companions, and, being a bold and brave man, had penetrated into the very fastness of the jungle where few would dare to venture.

But even he had despaired of getting on the trail of the fierce little red men, until one afternoon, just at dusk he had heard voices in the forest.  Crouching behind a fallen tree, he waited and saw passing by some of the pygmy hunters, armed with bows and arrows, and blowguns.  They had been out after game.  Cautiously the hunter followed them, until he located one of their odd villages, which consisted of little mud huts, poorly made.

The black hunter remained in the vicinity of the pygmies all that night, and was almost caught, for some wild dogs which hung around the village smelled him out, and attracted to him the attention of the dwarf savages.  The hunter took to a tree, and so escaped.  Then, carefully marking the trail, he came away in the morning.  When near home, a lion had attacked him, but he speared the beast to death, after a hand-to-hand struggle in which his leg was torn.

“And do you think we can find the place?” asked Ned, when Mr. Durban had finished translating the hunter’s story.

“I think so,” was the reply.

“But is this the settlement where the missionaries are?” asked Tom anxiously.

“That is what we don’t know,” said Mr. Anderson.  “The native scout could not learn that.  But once we get on the trail of the dwarfs, I think we can easily find the particular tribe which has the captives.”

“At any rate, we’ll get started and do something,” declared Tom, and the next day, after the African hunter had described, as well as he could, where the place was, the Black Hawk was sent up into the air, good-bys were called down, and once more the adventurers were under way.