CHAPTER XVIII
NEWS OF THE RED PYGMIES
Seldom had it been the lot of Tom and his companions to take part in such a novel hunting scene as that in which they were now participating. With the airship moving quickly about, darting here and there under the guidance of the young inventor, the erratic movements hither and thither of the buffaloes could be followed exactly. Wherever the mass of the herd went the airship hovered over them.
"Want any help, Tom?" called Ned, who was firing as fast as his gun could be worked.
"I guess not," answered the steersman of the Black Hawk, who was dividing his attention between managing the craft and firing his electric rifle.
The others, too, were kept busy with their weapons, shooting down on the infuriated animals. It seemed like a needless slaughter, but it was not. Had it not been for the white men,
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