“We want to pick out a place where they won’t come upon us as we descend,” declared Tom.  “We’ve got to mend some leaks in the gas bag, for, while they are not serious, if we get any more punctures they may become so.  So we’ve got to pick out a good place to go down.”

Finally, by means of powerful glasses, a desolate part of the jungle was selected.  No files of the red dwarfs, coming from their scattered villages to join their tribesmen, had been noted in the vicinity picked out, and it was hoped that it would answer.  Slowly the airship settled to earth, coming to rest in a thick grove of trees, where there was an opening just large enough to allow the Black Hawk to enter.

Our friends were soon busy repairing the leaks in the bag, while Mr. Damon got a meal ready.  As they ate they talked over plans for the night attack.

It was decided to wait until it was about two o’clock in the morning, as at that hour the dwarfs were most generally asleep, Tomba said.  They always stayed up quite late, sitting around camp-fires, and eating the meat which the hunters brought in each day.  But their carousings generally ended at midnight, the black said, and then they fell into a heavy sleep.  They did not post guards, but since they knew of the presence of the white men in the airship, they might do it this time.

“Well, we’ve got to take our chance,” decided Tom.  “We’ll start off from here about one o’clock, and I’ll send the ship slowly along.  We’ll get right over the hut where the captives are, if possible, and then descend.  I’ll manage the ship, and one of you can work the electric rifle if they attack us.  We’ll make a dash, get Mr. and Mrs. Illingway from the hut, and make a quick get-away.”

It sounded good, and they were impatient to put it into operation.  That afternoon Tom and his friends went carefully over every inch of their craft, to repair it and have it in perfect working order.  Guns were cleaned, and plenty of ammunition laid out.  Then, shortly after one o’clock in the morning the ship was sent up, and with the searchlight ready to be turned on instantly, and with his electric rifle near at hand, Tom Swift guided his craft on to the attack.  Soon they could see the glow of dying fires in the dwarfs’ village, but no sound came from the sleeping hordes of red imps.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE RESCUE

“Can you make out the hut, Tom?” asked Ned, as he stood at his chum’s side in the steering tower, and gazed downward on the silent village.

“Not very clearly.  Suppose you take a look through the night-glasses.  Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Ned peered long and earnestly.

“No, I can’t see a thing.” he said.  “It all looks to be a confused jumble of huts.  I can’t tell one from the other.  We’ll have to go lower.”

“I don’t want to do that,” objected Tom.  “If this attack succeeds at all, it will have to be sharp and quick.  If we go down where they can spot us, and work our way up to the hut where the captives are, we’ll run the chance of an attack that may put us out of business.”