What our flyers saw was a very large body of water, with a strong tone of blue to it. As far to the north as they could see, it stretched, also to the east and south. And the shoreline on the western side nearest them was covered with what seemed a never-ending border of great forest trees, many of which had all the characteristics of mangroves.
This great expanse of water they knew could not be the Red Sea, nor could it be the Indian Ocean; for they had not traveled far enough westward to reach these bodies. Unquestionably, therefore, it was that which they were looking for—Lake Chad.
As they swept nearer, under reduced speed, they observed somewhat to their left a good-sized collection of dwellings in an opening among the mangroves, evidently a town. Swerving in that direction they were soon circling above the place at an altitude of about five hundred feet, hoping that it might prove to be Kuka, their next stop.
By this time it had grown so dark that they could just make out the buildings and surroundings. The former seemed to be nothing more than rude huts with rounded thatched roofs covered by saplings. The flyers saw many dark figures, with little or no garb, running about and excitedly gesticulating upward to their position. As they circled lower, these figures, evidently natives, suddenly vanished within their abodes.
"They seem scared to death of us," remarked Paul, laughing.
"Apparently they think the Sky-Bird is some gigantic member of the feathered kingdom about to swoop down and devour them for their sins," added Paul, who was equally amused. "Pete Deveaux and his crowd ought to have landed here some time this morning, though, and you would think the sight of their machine taking on gas would have gotten the blacks used to an airplane."
Be that as it may, every one of the dusky figures below had vanished as though the earth had swallowed them up. A strange if not foreboding stillness hung over the town. You would have thought it contained not a single being, at least not one who was awake.
All at once John, who had been intently looking around the outskirts of the town, observed an open spot marked with the welcome sign of a white T. He joyfully called the attention of his comrades to this, and as they looked they saw the form of a man emerge from the shadows bordering the field and wave his arms upward at them. From the fact that this person was attired in European costume, they judged he must be Mr. MacInnis, the Scotch trader who had been appointed to look after their fuel interests at this point.
It was a novel experience to be able to make a landing unhampered by throngs of curious inhabitants, as they now did. The field was quite level, though sandy, as might be expected so close to the big desert, and they had to dodge several clumps of small growths, presumably juju trees, before they could taxi to a stop.
The man in linen now rushed up to them, and introduced himself as Mr. MacInnis. He hurriedly shook hands with the boys, displaying, they thought, great nervousness while greeting them, and several times he turned his head and looked in the direction of the nearest shacks of the town.