"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 brought a sudden and grave fear to their minds, one unnoticed before. The helium-gas tanks in the hollow wings and rear fuselage! Bullets, spears and arrows striking them would penetrate, and the tanks thus punctured would lose their last ounce of the precious gas!
It was a terrible predicament in which the flyers now found themselves, to be sure. By fighting they might preserve their lives, but that very act would make their world-trip impossible. What could they do?
As the drowning man catches with hope at the floating straw. Bob now conceived an almost impossible but startling idea for delivering them from their dilemma.
"The searchlight!" he cried. "These blacks never have seen one.
Perhaps we can frighten them away with ours!"
"Great idea, Bob," approved John, while the others also applauded the scheme. "Paul, you work the lever that revolves the lamp up on top of the cabin there, and, Bob, you throw in the juice."
No sooner had he spoken, than both boys were at their stations. The next moment a great white path, widening as it went, streamed out into the darkness, lighting up everything in its reach with the brilliancy of day, but with a bluish-whiteness which must have been decidedly terrifying to the superstitious negroes. Like an accusing finger the strange light swept around the field, raising and lowering, resting a few moments on this group and then that group of petrified, hideously-painted faces, from which eyeballs stood out like knobs of white marble.