“Yes, I hope you do see them,” murmured Tom, as he pulled the lever which would pump the gas from the inflated bag, and compress it into tanks, until it was needed again to make the ship rise.  Slowly the Black Hawk sank down.

“Get ready!” called Tom in a low voice.

It was a tense moment.  Every one of the adventurers felt it, and all but Tom grasped their weapons with tighter grips.  They were ready to spring out as soon as a landing was made.  Tom managed the machinery in the dark, for he knew every wheel, gear and lever, and could have put his hand on any one with his eyes shut.  The two loaded revolvers were on a shelf in front of him.  The side door of the pilot house was ajar, to allow him quick egress.

Tomba, armed with a big club he had picked up in the jungle, was ready to follow.  The black was eager for the fray to begin, though how he and the others would fare amid the savages was hard to say.

Still not a sound broke the quiet.  It was very dark, for nearly all the camp fires, over which the nightly feast had been prepared, were out.  The hut could be dimly made out, however.

Suddenly there was a slight tremor through the ship.  She seemed to shiver, and bound upward a little.

“We’ve landed!” whispered Tom.  “Now for it!  Come on, Tomba!”

The big black glided after the lad like a shadow.  With his two weapons held in readiness our hero went out on deck.  The others, with cocked rifles, stood ready for the attack to open.  It had been decided that as soon as the first alarm was given by the dwarfs, which would probably be when Tom broke into the hut, the firing would begin.

“Open!” called Tom to Tomba, and the big black dashed his club through the grass curtain over the doorway of the hut.  He fairly leaped inside, with a cry of battle on his lips.

“Mr. Illingway!  Mrs. Illingway!” called Tom, “We’ve come to save you.  Hurry out.  The airship is just outside!”

He fired one shot through the roof of the hut, so that the flash would reveal to him whether or not the two missionaries were in the place.  He saw two forms rise up in front of him, and knew that they were the white captives he had observed daring the former attack.

“Oh, what is it?” he heard the woman ask.

“A rescue!  Thank the dear Lord!” answered her husband fervently.  “Oh, whoever you are, God bless you!”

“Come quickly!” cried Tom, “we haven’t a moment to lose!”

He was speaking to absolute blackness now, for it was darker immediately following the revolver flash than before.  But he felt a man’s hand thrust about his arm, and he knew it was Mr. Illingway.

“Take your wife’s hand, and follow me,” ordered Tom.  “Come, Tomba!  Are there any of the red pygmies in here?”

He had not seen any at the weapon’s flash, but his question was answered a moment later, for there arose from within and without the hut a chorus of wild yells.  At the same time Tom felt small arms grasp him about the legs.