"What are you going to do?" demanded Ned.
"I'll show you," answered his chum. "Take some of those bombs, and be ready to drop them overboard when I give the word."
"But we may kill those white people," objected Ned.
"Not the way I'm going to work it. You drop them when I give the word."
Tom steered the airship toward the head of the throng of blacks. The captives were in the rear, and the van of the strange procession was near the edge of the jungle now. Once the red dwarfs got into the tangle of underbrush they could never be found, and their captives would die a miserable death.
"We've got to stop them," murmured Tom. "Are you ready, Ned?"
"Ready!"
"Then drop the bombs!"
Ned dropped them. A sharp explosion was heard, and the head of the procession was blown apart and thrown into confusion. The throng halted.
"Drop more!" cried Tom, sending the ship about in a circle, and hovering it over the middle of the press of savages.
More of the deadly bombs exploded. The pygmies were running about wildly. Tom, who was
