Time went on, and the pygmies did not kill their prisoners.  They even treated them with some kindness but were going to sacrifice them at their great annual festival, which was soon to take place.  Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, Tomba told our friends in his broken English, had urged him to escape at the first opportunity.  They knew if he could get away he would travel through the jungle.  They could not, even if they had not been so closely guarded that escape was out of the question.

But Tomba refused to go until Mr. Illingway had said that perhaps he might get word to some white hunters, and so send help to the captives.  This Tomba consented to do, and, watching his chance, he did escape.  That was several nights ago, and he had been traveling through the jungle ever since.  It was by mere accident that he came upon the anchored airship, and his curiosity led him to board her.  The rest is known.

“Well, of all queer yarns, this is the limit!” exclaimed Tom, when the black had finished.  “What had we better do about it?”

“Get ready to attack the red pygmies at once!” decided Mr. Durban.  “If we wait any longer it may be too late!”

“My idea, exactly,” declared Mr. Anderson.

“Bless my bowie-knife!” cried Mr. Damon.  “It’d like to get a chance at the red imps!  Come on, Tom!  Let’s start at once.”

“No, we need daylight to fight by,” replied Tom, with a smile at his friend’s enthusiasm.  “We’ll go forward in the morning.”

“In the airship?” asked Mr. Damon.

“I think so,” answered Tom.  “There can be no advantage now in trying to conceal ourselves.  We can move upon them from where we are so quickly that they won’t have much chance to get away.  Besides it will take us too long to make our way through the jungle afoot.  For, now that the escape of Tomba must be known, they may kill the captives at once to forestall any rescue.”

“Then we’ll move forward in the morning,” declared Mr. Durban.

They took Tomba with them in the airship the next day, though he prayed fervently before he consented to it.  But they needed him to point out the exact location of the pygmies’ village, since it was not the one the hunter-scout had been near.

The Black Hawk sailed through the air.  On board eager eyes looked down for a first sight of the red imps.  Tomba, who was at Tom’s side in the steering tower, told him, as best he could, from time to time, how to set the rudders.

“Pretty soon by-em-by be there,” said the black man at length.  “Pass ober dat hill, den red devils live.”

“Well, we’ll soon be over that hill,” announced Tom grimly.  “I guess we’d better get our rifles ready for the battle.”

“Are you going to attack them at once?” asked Mr. Damon.

“Well,” answered the young inventor, “I don’t believe we ought to kill any of them if we can avoid it.  I don’t like to do such a thing but, perhaps we can’t help ourselves.  My plan is to take the airship down, close to the hut where the missionaries are confined.  Tomba can point it out to us.  If we can rescue them without bloodshed, so much the better.  But we’ll fight if we have to.”