ines, "bless my camera! I don't call that much to
look at," and he pointed to the almost impenetrable forest over
which they then were.

"No, it isn't much of a view," said the old elephant hunter, "but
wait. You'll soon see all you want to. Africa isn't all like this.
There are many strange sights before us yet. But, Tom Swift, tell us
how the airship is working in this climate. Do you find any
difficulty managing it?"

"Not at all," answered Tom, who was in the cabin then, having set
the automatic steering apparatus in the pilot house, and come back
to join the others. "It works as well as it did in good old York
State. Of course I can't tell what affect the continual hot and
moist air will have on the gas bag, but I guess we'll make out all
right."

"I certainly hope so," put in Mr. Anderson. "It would be too bad to
be wrecked in the middle of Africa, with no way to get out."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," said Ned with a laugh. "If the
airship should smash, Tom would build another out of what was left,
and we'd sail away as good as before."

"Hardly that," answered the young inventor.

"But we won't cross a bridge until we hear it coming, as Eradicate
would say. Hello, that looks like some sort of native village."

He pointed ahead to a little clearing in the forest, where a number
of mud and grass huts were scattered about. As they came nearer they
could see the black savages, naked save for a loin cloth, running
about in great excitement, and pointing upward.

"Yes, that's one of the numerous small native villages we'll see
from now on," said Mr. Durban. "Many a night have I spent in those
same grass huts after a day's hunting. Sometimes, I've been
comfortable, and again not. I guess we've given those fellows a
scare."

It did seem so, for by this time the whole population, including
women and children, were running about like mad. Suddenly, from
below there sounded a deep booming noise, which came plainly to the
ears of the elephant hunters through the opened windows of the
airship cabin.

"Hark! What's that?" cried Tom, raising his hand for silence.

"Bless my umbrella! it sounds like thunder," said Mr. Damon.

"No, it's one of their war drums," explained Mr. Durban. "The
natives make large ones out of hollow trees, with animal skins
stretched over the ends, and they beat them to sound a warning, or
before going into battle. It makes a great noise."

"Do you think they want to fight us?"