Five Weeks in a Balloon Page #3

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Yah! Yah!

You fat pig!

Here come the marines!

Let's go!

Ow! My foot!

Marines catch us! Run!

Me Makia.

Thank you.

Me Donald.

You're welcome.

I hope. Come on!

Whoops! So long.

- Hurry!

- I think we lost 'em.

- Mr. O'Shay?

- Who are you?

Jacques, the professor's

assistant. Who's she?

Slave girl. She didn't like the fat boy

who was trying to buy her.

- Oh, him fat pig!

- You rescued a slave?

Well, they'll cut you to pieces,

and kill the rest of us too!

Yuck, I can't stand the sight

of blood, especially my own.

Whoops! Here they come! Come on! Let's go!

Shh.

- Where's Fergusson?

- At the British consulate. Come on!

Ah, bad news, sir.

Bad news.

- How bad?

- A letter from the prime minister by special courier.

- What does he say?

- The slavers know of your plan to beat them to the Volta.

No!

They left their base a week ago.

How long will it take them

to reach the river?

- I'd say six weeks.

- That leaves me exactly five.

- It's impossible to beat them.

- Nonsense, sir. Nothing's impossible.

There's, uh, something else.

Well, I've had enough surprises

for one day. Let me hear the worst.

You are to be accompanied

by the queen's special envoy.

"The professor, I'm sure, will benefit

by the invaluable experiences...

and advice of the ex-commandant

of Khartoum. "

- Sir Henry Vining?

- General Vining, sir.

Formally known as

the scourge of the desert.

Am I to be saddled with you,

sir, all the way across Africa?

I am equally distressed, sir.

However, a soldier

does not question his orders.

You said that my balloon was a toy!

Well, perhaps the prime minister shares my

views and wants a steadier hand at the helm.

- I'm in command.

- I am the expert on Africa.

- I'm the expert on balloons.

- Ha!

- Gentlemen, every hour counts.

- Every minute, sir.

Where in tarnation is that reporter?

Wasn't he on your ship?

There was an irksome chap aboard.

We had nothing in common.

But you'll have one thing in common:

five weeks in a balloon.

Should be very cozy.

What's happening now?

Hurry! Run! Run!

They're right behind us!

Professor, that's the irksome young man.

Professor! Professor!

It's Mr. O'Shay, Professor.

Well, gentlemen.

Mr. O'Shay, what jiggery-pokery is this?

And who is the chicken thief?

Name is Makia. Pretty, isn't she?

- The slave traders whipped her, but he saved her.

- He what?

You can't do this kind

of thing in Zanzibar!

It's against the law.

She must be returned immediately.

And the chicken too.

Oh, no, you don't.

You should've seen that bull whip.

- Be quiet, sir!

- Return this girl to her owner.

- And the chicken.

- Over my dead body.

That could be arranged, young man.

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