CHAPTER XLIII
A WASTED COUNTRY
If we had not taken the precaution to lighten the balloon last night," said the doctor, "we should have been lost past recovery."
"That shows the benefit of doing things in time," said Joe, "so we have escaped, and nothing is more natural."
"We are not out of danger yet," replied Ferguson in a cautious manner.
"What do you fear now?" asked Dick; "the 'Victoria' cannot descend without your permission, and when it should do so."
"When it should do so!—look!"
The border of the forest was passed, and the travelers could descry about thirty horsemen clothed in wide trousers, and bournous floating in the air. Some were armed with lances, others with long muskets. They pursued the "Victoria," which was going along slowly, at a hand-gallop.
At sight of the travelers they raised savage cries and brandished their weapons—their anger and menaces were to be read in their sunburnt faces, rendered more ferocious by the short but bristling beard. They passed easily over the low plains and gentle declivities that descend to the Senegal.
"They are indeed the cruel Talibas," said the doctor, "the ferocious marabouts of Al-Hadji. I would rather be in a forest in the midst of wild beasts, than in the hands of those men."
"They have not the most amiable appearance, certainly," said Kennedy, "and they are powerful fellows too."
"Happily, the ruffians cannot fly; there is always some consolation," said Joe.
"Do you see those ruined villages, those burned houses? that is their handiwork; and where at one time were cultivated pastures, they have now left nothing but sterility and devastation."
"At any rate, they cannot touch us here," said Kennedy, "and if we can put the river between us, we shall be safe."
"Quite so, Dick, but we must not fall," said the doctor, looking at the barometer.
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