hands. They treat him worse than the cannibals do."
"Then well look out for them," said Tom. "But I fancy my electric rifle will make them give us a wide berth."
"It's a great gun," admitted the old hunter with a shake of his head, "but those red pygmies are terrible creatures. I hope we don't get them on our trail. But tell me, Tom, how are you coming on with the airship? for I don't know much about mechanics, and to me it looks as if it would never be put together. It's like one of those queer puzzles I've seen 'em selling in the streets of London."
"Oh, it's nearer ready than it looks to be," said Tom. "We'll have it assembled, and ready for a trial in about two weeks more."
Work on the Black Hawk was rushed more than ever in the next few days, another extra machinist being engaged. Then the craft began to assume shape and form, and with the gas bag partly inflated and the big planes stretching out from either side, it began to look something like the ill-fated Red Cloud.
"It's going to be a fine ship!" cried Tom enthusiastically, one day, as he went to the far side of the shop to get a perspective view of it, "We'll make good time in this."
