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.

Once more came that pitiful cry from the native, who was, as they
afterward learned, being dragged along by the lion, who had grabbed
him by the shoulder.

Suddenly in the dense jungle there shone a purple-bluish light. It
illuminated the scene like some great sky-rocket for an instant, and
in that brief time Ned and the others caught sight of a great, tawny
form, bounding along. It was a lion, with head held high, dragging
along a helpless black man.

A second later, and before the intense glare had died away, the
watchers saw the lion gently sink down, as though weary. He stopped