Chapter XXI. The Jungle Fire

"Well, Tom, I don't seem to see anything of them," remarked Ned that afternoon, as he sat in the bow of the air craft, gazing from time to time through the powerful glasses.

"No, and I can't understand it, either," responded the young inventor, who had come for-ward to relieve his chum. "They didn't have much the start of us, and they'll have to travel very slowly. It isn't as if they could hop on a train; and, even if they did, I could overtake them in a short time. But they have to travel on foot through the jungle, and can't have gone far."

"'Maybe they have bullock carts," suggested Mr. Damon.

'~The trail isn't wide enough for that," declared Tom. "We've come quite a distance now, even if we have been running at low speed, and we haven't seen even a black man on the trail," and he motioned to the rude path below them.

"They may have taken a boat and slipped down that river we crossed a little while ago," suggested Ned.

"That's so!" cried Tom. "Why didn't I think of it? Say! I'm going to turn back."

"Turn back?"

"Yes, and go up and down the stream a way. We have time, for we can easily run at top speed on the return trip. Then, if we don't see anything of them on the water, we'll pick up the trail again. Put her around, Ned, and I'll take the glasses for a while."

The Flyer was soon shooting back over the same trail our friends had covered, and, as Ned set the propellers going at top speed, they were quickly hovering over a broad but shallow river, which cut through the jungle.

"Try it down stream first," suggested Tom, who was peering through the binoculars. "They'd be most likely to go down, as it would be easier."

Along over the stream swept the airship, covering several miles.

"There's a boat!" suddenly exclaimed Mr. Nestor, pointing to a native canoe below them.

"Bless my paddle wheel! So it is!" cried Mr. Damon. "I believe it's them, Tom!"

"No, there are only natives in that craft," answered the young inventor a moment later, as he brought the binoculars into focus. "I wish it was them, though."

A few more miles were covered down stream, and then Tom tried the opposite direction. But all to no purpose. A number of boats were seen, and several rafts, but they had no white men on them.

"Maybe the Englishmen disguised themselves like natives, Tom," suggested Ned.

Our hero shook his head.

"I could see everything in the boats, through these powerful glasses," he replied, "and there was nothing like my camera. "I'd know that a mile off. No, they didn't take to this stream, though they probably crossed it. We'll have to keep on the way we were going. It will