“Here’s where we get abducted!” Carl exclaimed.
“You needn’t get funny about it!” Jimmie expostulated. “This is no joke!”
“Anyhow,” Carl went on, “the ginks don’t know anything about good manners. They never answered your salutation!”
The savages were still uttering what appeared to be wordless commands, and, as they continued to point down the river, very reluctantly the boys started in that direction.
“I wonder if the brutes have captured the camp, too?” queried Jimmie.
“Oh, I suppose so!” Carl answered. “These fellows travel in droves, like wild hogs, and I guess we lit right in the middle of a large tribe.”
In spite of the impatience expressed by the gestures of their captors, the boys proceeded very slowly. As they walked they listened for some indication of trouble at the camp. They knew that Glenn and Ben were well armed, and that they would not submit to capture without first putting up a spirited defence.
“We haven’t heard any shooting yet,” Jimmie said in a moment.
“I don’t believe there’s any use of our being lugged off in this style!” Carl advised. “We ought to be able to break away from these brutes and get back to camp. The boys there are all right up to this time, for we haven’t heard any fighting, and the four of us ought to be able to induce these two savages to beat it!”
“If we can only get back to the flying machines,” Jimmie suggested, “we can get away, all right. I believe these fellows would drop dead if they saw the Louise or the Bertha slanting up into the air!”