--The Howlings of the
Natives.--Out of Range.
Doctor Ferguson's first care was to take his bearings
by stellar observation, and he discovered that he was
scarcely twenty-five miles from Senegal.
"All that we can manage to do, my friends," said he,
after having pointed his map, "is to cross the river; but,
as there is neither bridge nor boat, we must, at all hazards,
cross it with the balloon, and, in order to do that, we must
still lighten up."
"But I don't exactly see how we can do that?" replied
Kennedy, anxious about his fire-arms, "unless one of us
makes up his mind to sacrifice himself for the rest,--that
is, to stay behind, and, in my turn, I claim that honor."
"You, indeed!" remonstrated Joe; "ain't I used to--"
"The question now is, not to throw ourselves out of
the car, but simply to reach the coast of Africa on foot. I
am a first-rate walker, a good sportsman, and--"
"I'll never consent to it!" insisted Joe.
"Your generous rivalry is useless, my brave friends,"
said Ferguson; "I trust that we shall not come to any
such extremity: besides, if we did, instead of separating,
we should keep together, so as to make our way across the
country in company."
"That's the talk," said Joe; "a little tramp won't do
us any harm.
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