The others posted themselves at windows that gave a view of the deck. Tom poked his electric rifle out of a crack of the door, and shot forth into the darkness one of the blue illuminations. The deck of the craft was instantly lighted up brilliantly, and in the glare, crouched on the deck, could be seen a powerful black man, nearly naked, gazing at the hunters. "A black!" gasped Tom, as the light died out. "Maybe it is one from the village we just left. What do you want? Who are you?" called the lad, forgetting that the Africans spoke only their own language. To the surprise of all, there came his reply in broken English: "Me Tomba! Me go fo' help for Missy Illingway--fo' Massy Illingway. Me run away from little red men! Me Christian black man. Oh, if you be English, help Missy Illingway--she most die! Please help. Tomba go but Tomba be lost! Please help!" CHAPTER XX THE FIGHT Surprise, for the moment, held Tom and the others speechless. To be answered in English, poor and broken as it was, by a native African, was strange enough, but when this same African was found aboard the airship, in the midst of the jungle, at midnight, it almost passed the bounds of possibility. "Tomba!" mused Tom, wondering where he had heard that name before. "Tomba?" "Of course!" cried Mr. Anderson, suddenly. "Don't you remember? That's the name of the servant of Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, who escaped and brought news of their capture by the pygmies. That's who Tomba is." "Yes, but Tomba escaped," objected Mr. Durban. "He went to the white settlements with the news. How comes he here?" "We'll have to find out," said Tom, simply. "Tomba, are you there?" he called, as he fired another illuminating charge. It disclosed the black man standing up on the deck, and looking at them appealingly. "Yes, Tomba here," was the answer. "Oh, you be English, Tomba know. Please help Missy and Massy Illingway. Red devils goin' kill 'em pretty much quick." "Come in!" called Tom, as he turned on the electric lights in the airship. "Come in and tell us all about it. But how did you get here?" "Maybe there are two Tombas," suggested Ned. "Bless my safety razor!" cried Mr. Damon "perhaps Ned is right!" But he wasn't, as they learned when they had questioned the African, who came inside the airship, looking wonderingly around at the many strange things he saw. He was the same Tomba who had escaped the massacre, and had taken news of the capture of his master and mistress to the white settlement. In vain after that he had tried to organize a band to go back with him to the rescue, but the whites in the settlement were too few, and the natives too timid. Then Tomba, with grief in his heart, and not wanting to live while the missionaries whom he had come to care for very much, were captives, he went back into the jungle, determined, if he could not help them, that at least he would share their fate, and endeavor to be of some service to them in their captivity.