e natives sharply, but
though he saw numbers of black figures skulking in the shadows among
them, no sign of hostility was observed.

The Scotchman had signed his name to the document certifying to the
stop of the flyers at Kuka,--the paper on which they were to secure
certifications at every scheduled airport,--and they were just in the
act of starting over to the field tank to get some water for the
airplane's radiators, when, without a moment's warning a hair-raising
chorus of yells broke out on the brooding night air, and scores of
savage-looking figures sprang from the shadows of the buildings into
the open field. They emerged in a long straggling line, hooting and
brandishing guns, spears and bows. They advanced toward the airplane
in peculiar hops and side jumps, as if fearing an attack upon
themselves. Not once did they cease their blood-curdling shouts.
Rapidly they neared the objects of their anger and hatred.

For a full five seconds the boys stood as if rooted in their tracks,
too horrified and astounded to think or act. The sharp voice of the
Scotchman, however, brought them to their senses.

"You've fooled here too long; it's too late to get away now! They're
mad as wet hornets. Jump inside your cabin quick, and defend
yourselves as well as you can!"

"But you, sir?" cried Tom.

"They won't harm me, because I'm not a flyer."

The boys dashed into the cabin and shut the door, while the Scotchman
hurried away from the airplane. It was certain that there was no time
to get out and crank the propeller and rise before the mad Fulbees
would be upon them. Cornered in the little cabin of the machine they
would sell their lives as dearly as possible.

As they stood, guns in hand, watching through the windows, while the
frenzied blacks drew cautiously nearer, spreading a cordon of hundreds
all around the Sky-Bird, they could see in the moonlight that the
Fulbees were grotesquely painted on arms and faces, while their bodies
were entirely naked except for a dirty-looking cloth wrapped around
their loins in the form of a short skirt. Every one of them was armed,
and as they contracted their circle, guns, spears, and bows were
frequently raised in threatening position; but for some reason no shots
were fired. The inmates knew, however, that when nearer approach
brought more assurance of hitting their target, the blacks could be
counted upon to open up actual hostilities.

And now this thought brough