“That’s so,” remarked Tom.  “We must not forget the red pygmies.”

The natives were now dancing about, wild in delight at the prospect of unlimited eating, and also thankful for what the white men had done for them.  Alone, the blacks would never have been able to stop the stampede.  They were soon busy cutting up the elephants ready for a big feast, and runners were sent to tell neighboring tribes, in adjoining villages, of the delights awaiting them.

Mr. Durban gave instructions about saving the ivory tusks, and the valuable teeth, each pair worth about $1,000, were soon cut out and put away for our friends.  Some had been lost by the excessive power of Tom’s gun, but this could not be helped.  It was necessary to stop the rush at any price.

There was soon a busy scene at the native village, and with the arrival of other tribesmen it seemed as if Bedlam had broken loose.  The blacks chattered like so many children as they prepared for the feast.

“Do white men ever eat elephant meat?” asked Mr. Damon, as the adventurers were gathered about the airship.

“Indeed they do,” declared Mr. Durban.  “Baked elephant foot is a delicacy that few appreciate.  I’ll have the natives cook some for us.”

He gave the necessary orders, and the travelers had to admit that it was worth coming far to get.

For the next few days and nights there was great feasting in that African village, and the praises of the white men, and power of Tom Swift’s electric rifle, were sung loud and long.

Our friends had resumed work on repairing the airship, and the young inventor declared, one night, that they could proceed the next day.

They were seated around a small campfire, watching the dancing and antics of some natives who were at their usual work of eating meat.  All about our friends were numerous blazes for the cooking of the feasts, and some were on the very edge of the jungle.

Suddenly, above the uncouth sounds of the merry-making, there was heard a deep vibration and roar, not unlike the distant rumble of thunder or the hum of a great steamer’s whistle heard afar in the fog.

“What’s that?” cried Ned.

“Lions,” said Mr. Durban briefly.  “They have been attracted by the smell of cooking.”

At that moment, and instantly following a very loud roar, there was an agonized scream of pain and terror.  It sounded directly in back of the airship.

“A lion!” cried Mr. Anderson.  “One of the brutes has grabbed a native!”

Tom Swift caught up his rifle, and darted off toward the dark jungle.

CHAPTER XVI

SEEKING THE MISSIONARIES

“Here!  Come back!” yelled Mr. Damon and Mr. Anderson, in the same breath, while the old elephant hunter cried out:  “Don’t you know you’re risking your life, Tom to go off in the dark, to trail a lion?”