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You'll like it. I only hope my air glider works." By putting on speed, Tom was able to reach Shopton before midnight, and there was quite an informal celebration in the Swift homestead over the rescue of the exile. The detective, for whom there was no further need, was paid off, and Mr. Petrofsky was made a member of the household.
It was not the big one they intended taking on their trip to Siberia, but it was sufficiently large to accommodate the four and leave room for Mr. Petrofsky, should they succeed in rescuing him. "I think so," answered the young inventor. In the letter from Russia a comparatively accurate description of the prisoner's hut had been given, and also some details about his guards.
The leak in the tank had proved to be a small one, and had quickly been soldered. It had been open a long time, which accounted for the large amount of gasolene escaping. "What don't you like, Mr. Petrofsky?" "So many men surrounding us. I believe some of them are officers dressed in civilians' clothes, and a Russian officer never does that unless he has some object."
He dashed toward the reserve storeroom, and at that moment, with a suddenness that was startling, the motor stopped and the Falcon lurched toward the earth. "All right!" yelled Ned, as soon as he heard Tom's cry. "I've got her under control. We'll volplane down." "Is it dangerous? Are we in danger?" asked Peter Petrofsky of his brother, in Russian.
It's been hanging in the same place this ten minutes." "Oh, I see," spoke Tom, when the speck had been pointed out to him. "It's there all right, but I guess it's a bird, an eagle perhaps. Wait, I'll get a glass and we'll take a look." As he was taking the telescope down from its rack in the pilot house, Mr. Petrofsky saw him. "What's up?" asked the Russian, and the youth told him.
We must get away as quickly as we can!" The announcement of Ivan Petrofsky came to Tom with startling suddenness. He could say nothing for a moment, and then, as he realized what it meant, and as he recalled the strange appearance and actions of the man, he understood the danger. "Was he a spy?" he asked. "I'm almost sure he was," came the answer.
"Here they come!" cried Tom a moment later, as three figures, one after the other, came around the corner of the house. They had not taken the shorter route through the window, as had Mr. Petrofsky, and this gained a little time for our friends. "Stop! Hold on!" cried one of the guards in fairly good English. "That is our prisoner." "Not any more!" the young inventor yelled back. "He's ours now."
The airship fairly stood on end, and then, turning completely about, was rapidly driven in the opposite direction, though her propellers were working rapidly. "What's up?" yelled Ned. "We are capsizing!" shouted Ivan Petrofsky, and indeed it seemed so, for the airship was being forced over. "I guess we've struck what we want!" cried Tom. "We're in a hurricane all right!
Once we are in there we can make our way out. We'll soon be free." "Ask him if he's heard anything of my airship?" asked Tom. Mr. Petrofsky put the question rapidly in Russian and then translated the answer. "It's in the same place." "Hurray!" cried Tom. Working rapidly, the Nihilist guard soon had the cell doors open, for he had the keys, and our friends stepped out into the corridor.
The man peered into his cell, and said something in Russian. "Nothing doing," remarked the young inventor with a short laugh. "Nixy on that jabbering." But, no sooner had the man's words penetrated to the cell of Ivan Petrofsky, that the exile called out something. The guard started, hastened to that cell door, and for a few seconds there was an excited dialogue in Russian. "Boys! Mr. Damon!
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