As he spoke he leveled his revolver at the black mass of pursuing Indians, and fired. Jerry did the same. It was the only thing to do to save their lives and protect the prisoners. Jim Nestor now opened fire, and the professor, anxious to protect the flying lizard he had so unexpectedly secured, plucked up courage to use the extra revolver, which the miner had thrust into his hand. Jerry, Ned and Nestor each had two, fully loaded.
The fight was now on in earnest, the Indians battling desperately, for they wanted to keep their prisoners, punish those who had dared interrupt the sacred rites, and they wanted to secure the flying lizard. With howls and yells they came on, now sending a flight of arrows and again using their guns. Fortunately none of our friends were hurt, but occasional cries of pain from the Indians told that some had been struck. The battle went on in the rain and darkness, the four rescuers seeking to get the prisoners to the airship. On they rushed, firing and being fired upon. The ceremonial lights were less frequent now, and the fugitives were better protected by darkness.
“Aren’t we near the airship?” panted the professor, as he fired the last shot in his revolver. None of the bullets could have found a mark, as he aimed the weapon high in the air.
“We’re almost there,” answered Jerry. “Are they coming any nearer, Jim?”
“They’re pressing us close,” replied the miner.
Suddenly, as the little band, running for their lives, turned a huge rock in the path toward the upper end of the valley where the airship was, they saw coming toward them several persons. In the darkness Jerry took them for a party of Indians that had gotten ahead of them to cut off their escape. He was about to fire, when a voice called out:
“Are you there?”
“Yes! Yes, Chunky!” cried the tall lad. “But why did you leave the ship?”
“To come to your rescue,” answered Bob. “We heard the firing, and couldn’t stand it any longer!”