"Blesss my wagon wheel!" cried Mr. Damon. "What's going on?"
"It looks like moving day," suggested Ned Newton.
"That's just what it is!" declared Mr. Durban. "They are going to migrate. Evidently they have had enough of us, and they're going to get out of the neighborhood before we get a chance to do any more damage. They're moving, but where are the white captives?"
He was answered a moment later, for a crowd of the dwarfs rushing to a certain hut, came out leading two persons by means of bark ropes tied about their necks. It was too far off to enable Tom or the others to recognize them, but they could tell by the clothing that they were white captives.
"We've got to save them!" exclaimed the young inventor.
"How?" asked Mr. Damon. And, indeed, it did seem a puzzle for, even as Tom looked, the whole tribe of red imps took up the march into the jungle, dragging the white persons with them. The captives looked up, saw the airship, and made frantic motions for help. It was too far off, yet, to hear their voices. But the distance was lessening every moment, for Tom had speeded the motor to the highest pitch.
