closely watching the rear of the cavalcade, suddenly called out:
"Now's our chance! They've let their captives go, and are running into the jungle. We must swoop down, and get the prisoners!"
It was no sooner said than the nose of the Black Hawk was pointed downward. Onward it flew, the two captives wildly waving their hands to the rescuers. There was no more danger from the red savages. They had been thrown into panic and confusion, and were rapidly disappearing into the forest. The terrible weapons of the whites had been too much for them.
"Quick! Get on board!" called Tom, as he brought the machinery to a stop. The airship now rested on the ground, close to the former captives. "Get in here!" shouted the young inventor. "They may change their minds and come back."
The two white persons ran toward the Black Hawk. Then one of them—the smaller—halted, and cried out:
"Why, it's Tom Swift!"
Tom turned and glanced at the speaker. A look of astonishment spread over his face.
"Andy Foger—here!" gasped Tom. "How in the world?"
I dink besser as ve git on der board, und dalk
