It was five o'clock when the boys passed over the low banks of the Niger River. By seven they were in the heart of the wild, level territory of Sokoto, skimming over vast expanses of plume-like grasses and extensive marshes and swamps. Strange birds of enormous size flew up out of the morasses, startled at the sight and sound of the airplane. Some tried to follow it, evidently to give it battle, but the swiftest of them were hopelessly outdistanced before they were well started. When the sun disappeared behind the forest back of them, the flyers were still making speed for their destination, with Bob at the throttle. Pretty soon the lengthening shadows and obscuring of detail below convinced the crew that night was just about upon them, and that if they did not reach Kuka within the next thirty minutes they were very likely to be in such darkness that they would overrun it and never know the difference. Some of them began to wonder if they had not missed their course, when a cry came from Bob, and they all ran forward and looked out of the front windows at the object he was pointing out. CHAPTER XIX SAVED BY THE SEARCHLIGHT What our flyers saw was a very large body of water, with a strong tone of blue to it. As far to the north as they could see, it stretched, also to the east and south. And the shoreline on the western side nearest them was covered with what seemed a never-ending border of great forest trees, many of which had all the characteristics of mangroves. This great expanse of water they knew could not be the Red Sea, nor could it be the Indian Ocean; for they had not traveled far enough westward to reach these bodies. Unquestionably, therefore, it was that which they were looking for--Lake Chad. As they swept nearer, under reduced speed, they observed somewhat to their left a good-sized collection of dwellings in an opening among the mangroves, evidently a town. Swerving in that direction they were soon circling above the place at an altitude of about five hundred feet, hoping that it might prove to be Kuka, their next stop. By this time it had grown so dark that they could just make out the buildings and surroundings. The former seemed to be nothing more than rude huts with rounded thatched roofs covered by saplings. The flyers saw many dark figures, with little or no garb, running about and excitedly gesticulating upward to their position. As they circled lower, these figures, evidently natives, suddenly vanished within their abodes. "They seem scared to death of us," remarked Paul, laughing. "Apparently they think the Sky-Bird is some gigantic member of the feathered kingdom about to swoop down and devour them for their sins," added Paul, who was equally amused. "Pete Deveaux and his crowd ought to have landed here some time this morning, though, and you would think the sight of their machine taking on gas would have gotten the blacks used to an airplane."