and the others were walking just then. "There are so many of the brutes that they are bold, and they must be hungry, too. They came close to our fire, because it wasn't so bright as the other blazes, and that native must have wandered off into the forest. Well, I guess it's all up with him."
"He's screaming yet," observed Ned.
Indeed, above the rumbling roars of the lions, and the crackling of the campfires, could be heard the moaning cries of the unfortunate black.
"He's right close here!" suddenly called Tom. "He's skirting the jungle. I think I can get him!"
"Don't take any risks!" called Mr. Durban, who had caught up his own rifle, that was now in working order again.
Tom Swift was not in sight. He had now penetrated into the jungle—into the black forest where stalked the savage lions, intent on getting other prey. Mr. Durban and Mr. Anderson vainly tried to pierce the darkness to see something at which to shoot. Ned Newton had eagerly started to follow his chum, but could not discern where Tom was. A nameless fear clutched at the lad's heart. Mr. Damon was softly blessing everything of which he could think.
