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Updated: June 15, 2025
Petrofsky spent his nights writing to friends in Russia, hoping to get some clew as to the whereabouts of his brother. It was on one of these nights, when Tom and Ned were laboring hard, with Eradicate to help them that an incident occurred which worried them all not a little.
Petrofsky rescue his brother, and get hold of some of that platinum I'll be satisfied. Then I won't go back to the land of the Czar, once I get away from there." "That's right. Well, let's go back and work on the glider." "And we'll have Eradicate patrolling about the shop to make sure we're not spied on again." "By golly!
"That's what we thought when we found the city of gold, but the gold wasn't of as fine a grade as we hoped." "Well, nothing like that can happen in this platinum deal. It sure is rich ore that Mr. Petrofsky and his brother found. Poor fellow! To think of being an exile in that awful country, not knowing where you may be sent next. No wonder Mr. Petrofsky wants to rescue him." "That's right.
"Must be a pretty big bird to be seen at such a distance as it is," remarked Tom. "Maybe it isn't a bird," suggested Ivan Petrofsky. "I'll take a look myself," and, showing something of alarm in his manner, he followed Tom to where Mr. Damon awaited them. Ned also came out on deck. Quickly adjusting the glass, Tom focused it on the black speck. It seemed to have grown larger.
He was wondering why the man, who seemed a cultured gentleman, should live in such a lonely place, and he was wondering too how he happened to have some platinum. "Will that answer?" asked Mr. Petrofsky, when they had reached his house, and he had handed Tom several strips of the precious silverlike metal. "Do? I should say it would!
At least we wouldn't starve there, and we'd have something to drink. If they kept us we know we could get free sometime." "Perhaps never!" exclaimed Ivan Petrofsky. "It is better to keep on here, and, as for me, I would rather die here than go back to a Russian prison. We must we shall get out!" But it was idle talk.
I shouldn't be surprised but what some of the very people whom Mr. Petrofsky thinks are his friends are spies, and they send word to headquarters of every move he makes." "Why don't you warn him?" "He knows it as well as I do. The trouble is you can't tell who the spies are until it's too late. I'm glad I'm not mixed up in that sort of thing. If I can get to Siberia, help Mr.
They were flying at a moderate height, and could see wondering men, women and children rush out from their houses, to gaze aloft at the strange sight. Paris was now far behind, and that night they were approaching the borders of Prussia, as Mr. Petrofsky informed them, for he knew every part of Europe.
Upon the inside of the latter's lid was inscribed the owner's name Petrofsky Russian without a doubt; and a rude drawing which clearly traced the much disputed, much sought out Boundary Line between Alaska and the British Possessions. On this drawing was shown the very stone house upon the site of which they now stood; and Lieutenant Adams and his companion, threw up their caps for joy.
"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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