The Scotchman had signed his name to the document certifying to the stop of the flyers at Kuka,--the paper on which they were to secure certifications at every scheduled airport,--and they were just in the act of starting over to the field tank to get some water for the airplane's radiators, when, without a moment's warning a hair-raising chorus of yells broke out on the brooding night air, and scores of savage-looking figures sprang from the shadows of the buildings into the open field.  They emerged in a long straggling line, hooting and brandishing guns, spears and bows.  They advanced toward the airplane in peculiar hops and side jumps, as if fearing an attack upon themselves.  Not once did they cease their blood-curdling shouts. Rapidly they neared the objects of their anger and hatred.