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Verne, Jules, 1828-1905

"Five Weeks in a Balloon"


The sun was at the zenith as the balloon approached
the island.
The blacks, who were members of the Makado tribe,
were howling lustily, and one of them waved his bark hat
in the air. Kennedy took aim at him, fired, and his hat
flew about him in pieces. Thereupon there was a general
scamper. The natives plunged headlong into the river,
and swam to the opposite bank. Immediately, there came
a shower of balls from both banks, along with a perfect
cloud of arrows, but without doing the balloon any damage,
where it rested with its anchor snugly secured in the
fissure of a rock. Joe lost no time in sliding to the ground.
"The ladder!" cried the doctor. "Follow me, Kennedy."
"What do you wish, sir?"
"Let us alight. I want a witness."
"Here I am!"
"Mind your post, Joe, and keep a good lookout."
"Never fear, doctor; I'll answer for all that."
"Come, Dick," said the doctor, as he touched the ground.
So saying, he drew his companion along toward a
group of rocks that rose upon one point of the island;
there, after searching for some time, he began to rummage
among the brambles, and, in so doing, scratched his hands
until they bled.
Suddenly he grasped Kennedy's arm, exclaiming:
"Look! look!"
"Letters!"
Yes; there, indeed, could be descried, with perfect
precision of outline, some letters carved on the rock.


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