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Updated: May 7, 2025
They had strange and almost unpronounceable names for the ears of our friends, and I will not trouble you with them, save to say that the one who spoke English fairly well, and who was the leader, was called Nicolas Androwsky. There was much jabbering in the Russian tongue, when Mr. Petrofsky and Mr. Androwsky took the others about the craft, explaining how it worked.
Damon, who, up to now had not taken much part in the conversation. He followed the party about the airship, keeping in the rear, and he eyed the Nihilists as if he thought that each one had one or more dynamite bombs concealed on his person. "Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Androwsky, turning suddenly to the odd man. "Are you not one of us?
It might be a false clew, but it was something to work on, and Tom was tired of inaction. Then, too, even after they had started, the prisoner might be moved and they would have to trace him again. "But that is the latest information we could get," said Mr. Androwsky. "It came through some of our Anarchist friends, and I believe is reliable. Can you soon make a thousand miles in your airship?"
The tour of the craft was completed and the Nihilists returned to the comfortable cabin where, much to their surprise, they were served with a little lunch, Mr. Damon bustling proudly about from the table to the galley, and serving tea as nearly like the Russians drink it as possible. "Well, you certainly have a wonderful craft here wonderful," spoke Mr. Androwsky.
So the airship will remain here, and, from time to time I will go to the village, disguised, and see if any word has come." "And we will bring you news as soon as we get it," promised Mr. Androwsky. "You are not exactly one of us, but you are against the government, and, therefor, a brother. But you will be one of us in time." "Never," replied the exile with a smile.
Petrofsky solved the riddle by throwing back the portal, and there stood the Nihilist, Nicolas Androwsky. "Is there anything the matter?" asked the exile quickly. "We have news," was the cautious answer, as the Nihilist slipped in, and closed the door behind him. "News of my brother?" "Of your brother! He is in a sulphur mine in the Altai Mountains, near the city of Abakansk."
Those are police agents who are looking for us! They must have received word about our being there. Androwsky and the others never carry lights when they go about. They know the country too well, and then, too, it leads to detection. No, those are police spies. A few minutes later, and we would have been discovered." "As it is we're right over their heads, and they don't know it," chuckled Tom.
"I can't show you the air glider," said Tom, who naturally acted as guide, "as it would take too long to put together, and besides there is not enough wind here to make it operate." "Then you need much wind?" asked Nicolas Androwsky. "The harder the gale the better she flies," answered Tom proudly. "Bless my sand bag, but that's right!" exclaimed Mr.
"Here is a map of the best route," said the Nihilist, as he handed one to Mr. Petrofsky. "It will take you there the shortest way. But how can you steer when high in the air?" "By compass," explained Tom. "We'll get there, never fear, and we're grateful for your clew." "I never can thank you enough!" exclaimed the exile, as he shook hands with Mr. Androwsky.
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