The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds. Frank Walton

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for breech-clouts, which seemed to be woven of some sort of fiber, the men were naked. In color they were almost as dark as the negro of Africa. Their features seemed to be a cross between the tribes of Asia and Africa. They were armed with short spears which they flourished with many hostile gestures.

      “Good-evening!” Jimmie said.

      The savages conversed together in a dialect which seemed to the boys to resemble a confidential conversation between two hogs, and then pointed down the river.

      “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!”

      “Well, then, let’s make a break!” Carl advised.

      “All right!” Jimmie replied. “When we get to the next jungle where the bushes are so thick they can’t throw a spear very far, you duck one way and I’ll duck the other, and we’ll both make for the camp.”

      The boys knew very well that they were in a perilous situation. The savages were more familiar with travel through underbrush than themselves. Besides, they would undoubtedly be able to make better time than boys reared on city streets. In addition to all this, the spears they carried might carry death on every tip.

      However, to remain seemed fully as dangerous as to attempt to escape. So when they came to a particularly dense bit of jungle the boys darted away. As they did so Jimmie felt a spear whiz within an inch of his head, and Carl felt the push of one as it entered his sleeve. Dodging swiftly this way and that, uttering cries designed to bring their chums to their assistance, the boys forced their way through the undergrowth some distance in advance of their pursuers.

      Every moment they expected to feel the sting of a spear, or to be seized from behind by a brown, muscular hand. After all it was their voices and not their ability as runners which brought about their rescue.

      Hearing the cries of their chums, Ben and Glenn sprang for their guns and, walking swiftly toward the river, began firing, both for the purpose of directing the boys toward the camp and with the added purpose of frightening away any hostile element, either human or animal, walking on four legs or on two. Panting, and scarcely believing in their own good fortune, Jimmie and Carl presently came to where their chums stood not far from the machines. Both boys dropped down in the long grass the instant they felt themselves under the protection of the automatics in the hands of their friends.

      To say that Glenn and Ben were surprised at the sudden appearance of their chums only feebly expresses the situation. The savages had not followed the boys into the open plaza where the grass grew, and so there was no physical explanation of the incident.

      “What’s doing?” demanded Glenn.

      “You must be running for exercise!” Ben put in.

      “For the love of Mike!” exclaimed Jimmie, panting and holding his hands to his sides. “Get back to the machines and throw the truck on board! These woods are full of head-hunters!”

      “What did you see?” asked Ben.

      “Savages!” answered Jimmie.

      “They got us, too!” Carl put in.

      “They did?” demanded Glenn. “Then how did you get away?”

      “Ran away!” answered Jimmie scornfully. “You don’t suppose we flew, do you? I guess we’ve been going some!”

      “Where are the savages now?” demanded Glenn.

      “I don’t know!” Jimmie answered. “I don’t want to know where they are. I want to know where they ain’t!”

      “Come on!” Carl urged. “Let’s get back to the machines!”

      Glenn and Ben did not seem to take the incident as seriously as did their chums. In fact, they were rather inclined to make facetious remarks about little boys being frightened at black men in the woods. Ben was even in favor of advancing into the thicket on a tour of investigation, but Jimmie argued him out of the idea.

      “They’re savages, all right!” the latter insisted. “They’re naked, and they’re armed with spears. Look to me like head-hunters from the Amazon valley! If you go into the thicket you’re likely to get a couple of spears into your frame!”

      “Then I won’t go!” Ben grinned.

      “Come on,” urged Carl, “it’s getting dark, so we’d better be getting back to camp! Perhaps the niggers have beaten us to it already!”

      “I guess the two you saw are about the only ones in the vicinity,” answered Glenn.

      “You’d feel pretty cheap, wouldn’t you, if you’d get back to camp and find that the savages had taken possession?” demanded Jimmie.

      Thus urged, Glenn and Ben finally abandoned the idea of advancing into the forest. Instead, they turned their faces toward the camp, and all four boys advanced with ever-increasing speed as they neared the spot where the aeroplanes and the tents had been left.

      About the first thing they saw as they came within sight of the broad planes of the flying machines was a naked savage inspecting the motors. He stood like a statue before the machine for an instant and then glided away. They saw him turn about as he came to a cluster of underbrush, beckon silently to some one, apparently on the other side of the camp, and then disappear.

      “And that means,” Glenn whispered, “that the woods are full of ’em!”

      “Oh, no,” jeered Jimmie, “the two we saw are the only ones there are in the woods! I guess you’ll think there is something in the story we told about being captured and abducted!”

      The short tropical twilight had now entirely passed away. It seemed to the boys as if a curtain had been drawn

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