"I said I'd give this beggar the lesson of his life," he murmured as
he heard, even above the whir of the propeller, the shriek of the
terrified Negro. A moment later Smith-Oldwick had righted the machine
and was dropping rapidly toward the earth. He circled slowly a few
times above the meadow until he had assured himself that Bertha
Kircher was there and apparently unharmed, then he dropped gently
to the ground so that the machine came to a stop a short distance
from where the girl and the warriors awaited them.
It was a trembling and ashen-hued Usanga who tumbled out of the
fuselage, for his nerves were still on edge as a result of the
harrowing experience of the loop, yet with terra firma once more
under foot, he quickly regained his composure. Strutting about
with great show and braggadocio, he strove to impress his followers
with the mere nothingness of so trivial a feat as flying birdlike
thousands of yards above the jungle, though it was long until he
had thoroughly convinced himself by the force of autosuggestion
that he had enjoyed every instant of the flight and was already
far advanced in the art of aviation.
So jealous was the black of his new-found toy that he would not
return to the village of Numabo, but insisted on making camp close
beside the plane, lest in some inconceivable fashion it should be
stolen from him.
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