By this time, some blacks, having ventured in a boat just under the balloon, Kennedy saluted them with a shot from his rifle, that made them regain the bank at their utmost speed.
“A good journey to you,” bawled Joe, “and if I were in your place, I wouldn’t try coming back again. I should be mightily afraid of a monster that can hurl thunderbolts when he pleases.”
But, all at once, the doctor snatched up his spy-glass, and directed it toward an island reposing in the middle of the river.
“Four trees!” he exclaimed; “look, down there!” Sure enough, there were four trees standing alone at one end of it.
“It is Bengal Island! It is the very same,” repeated the doctor, exultingly.
“And what of that?” asked Dick.
“It is there that we shall alight, if God permits.”
“But, it seems to be inhabited, doctor.”
“Joe is right; and, unless I’m mistaken, there is a group of about a score of natives on it now.”
“We’ll make them scatter; there’ll be no great trouble in that,” responded Ferguson.