Tom Swift and His Air Glider Part 23

But fate was kind to them. How they managed to hit on the right gallery they did not know, but, as they made a turn around an immense pillar of salt Tom, who was walking weakly in advance, suddenly stopped.

"Look! Look!" he whispered. "Another candle! Someone--someone is searching for us! We are saved!"

"It may be the police!" said Ned.

"That is not a candle," spoke the Russian in hollow tones as he looked to where Tom pointed, to a little glimmer of light. "It is a star.

Friends, we are saved, and by Providence! That is a star, s.h.i.+ning through the opening of the mine. We are saved!"

Eagerly they pressed forward, and they had not gone far before they knew that the exile was right. They felt the cool night wind on their hot cheeks.

"Thank heaven!" gasped Tom, as he pushed on.

A moment later, climbing over the rusted rails on which the mine cars had run with their loads of salt, they staggered into the open. They were free--under the silent stars!

"And now, if we can only find the airs.h.i.+p," said Tom faintly, "we can--"

"Look there!" whispered Ned, pointing to a patch of deeper blackness that the surrounding night. "What's that."

"The Falcon!" gasped Tom. He started toward her, for she was but a short distance from a little clump of trees into which they had emerged from the opening of the salt mine. There, on the same little plane where they had landed in her was the airs.h.i.+p. She had not been moved.

"Wait!" cautioned Ivan Petrofsky. "She may be guarded."

Hardly had he spoken than there walked into the faint starlight on the side of the s.h.i.+p nearest them, a Cossack soldier with his rifle over his shoulder.

"We can't get her!" gasped Ned.

"We've got to get her!" declared Tom. "We'll die if we don't!"

"But the guards! They'll arrest us!" said the exile.

An instant later a second soldier joined the first, and they could be seen conversing. They then resumed their pacing around the anch.o.r.ed craft. Evidently they were waiting for the escaped prisoners to come up when they would give the alarm and apprehend them.

"What can we do?" asked Mr. Damon.

"I have a plan," said Tom weakly. "It's the only chance, for we're not strong enough to tackle them. Every time they go around on the far side of the airs.h.i.+p we must creep forward. When they come on this side we'll lie down. I doubt if they can see us. Once we are on h.o.a.rd we can cut the ropes, and start off. Everything is all ready for a start if they haven't monkeyed with her, and I don't think they have. We've got room enough to run along as an aeroplane and mount upward. It's our only hope."

The others agreed, and they put the plan into operation. When the Cossack guards were out of sight the escaped prisoners crawled forward, and when the soldiers came into view our friends waited in silence.

It took several minutes of alternate creeping and waiting to do this, but it was accomplished at last and unseen they managed to slip aboard.

Then it was the work of but a moment to cut the restraining ropes.

Silently Tom crept to the motor room. He had to work in absolute darkness, for the gleam of a light would have drawn the fire of the guards. But the youth knew every inch of his invention. The only worriment was whether or not the motor would start up after the breakdown, not having been run since it was so hastily repaired. Still he could only try.

He looked out, and saw the guards pacing back and forth. They did not know that the much-sought prisoners were within a few feet of them.

Ned was in the pilot house. He could see a clear field in front of him.

Suddenly Tom pulled the starting lever. There was a little clicking, followed by silence. Was the motor going to revolve? It answered the next moment with a whizz and a roar.

"Here we go!" cried the young inventor, as the big machine shot forward on her flight. "Now let them stop us!"

Forward she went until Ned, knowing by the speed that she had momentum enough, tilted the elevation rudder, and up she shot, while behind, on the ground, wildly running to and fro, and firing their rifles, were the two amazed guards.

CHAPTER XXI

THE RESCUE

"Have we--have we time to get a drink?" gasped Ned, when the aeroplane, now on a level keel, had been shooting forward about three minutes.

Already it was beyond the reach of the rifles.

"Yes, but take only a little," cautioned Tom. "Oh! it doesn't seem possible that we are free!"

He switched on a few interior lights, and by their glow the faint and starving platinum-seekers found water and food. Their craft had, apparently, not been touched in their absence, and the machinery ran well.

Cautiously they ate and drank, feeling their strength come back to them, and then they removed the traces of their terrible imprisonment, and set about in ease and comfort, talking of what they had suffered.

Onward sped the aeroplane, onward through the night, and then Tom, having set the automatic steering gear, all fell into heavy slumbers that lasted until far into the next day.

When the young inventor awoke he looked below and could see nothing--nothing but a sea of mist.

"What's this?" he cried. "Are we above the clouds, or in a fog over some inland sea?"

He was quite worried, until Ivan Petrofsky informed him that they were in the midst of a dense fog, which was common over that part of Siberia.

"But where are we?" asked Ned.

"About over the province of Irtutsk," was the answer. "We are heading north," he went on, as he looked at the compa.s.s, "and I think about right to land somewhere near where my brother is confined in the sulphur mine."

"That's so; we've got to drop," said Tom. "I must get the gas pipe repaired. I wish we could see over what soft of a place we were so as to know whether it would be safe to land. I wish the mist would clear away."

It did, about noon, and they noted that they were over a desolate stretch of country, in which it would be safe to make a landing.

Bringing the aeroplane down on as smooth a spot as he could pick out, Tom and Ned were soon at work clearing out the clogged pipe of the gas generator. They had to take it out in the open air, as the fumes were unpleasant, and it was while working over it that they saw a shadow thrown on the ground in front of them. Startled they looked up, to see a burly Russian staring at them.

The sudden appearance of a man in that lonely spot, his calm regard of the lads, his stealthy approach, which had made it possible for him to be almost upon them before they were aware of his presence, all this made them suspicious of danger. Tom gave a quick glance about, however, and saw no others--no Cossack soldiers, and as he looked a second time at the man he noted that he was poorly dressed, that his shoes were ragged, his whole appearance denoting that he had traveled far, and was weary and ill.

"What do you make of this, Ned?" asked Tom, in a low voice.

"I don't know what to make of it. He can't be an officer, in that rig, and he has no one with him. I guess we haven't anything to be afraid of. I'm going to ask him what he wants."

Which Tom did in his plainest English. At once the man broke into a stream of confused Russian, and he kept it up until Tom held up his hand for silence.

"I'm sorry, but I can't understand you," said the young inventor. "I'll call some one who can, though," and, raising his voice, he summoned Ivan Petrofsky who, with Mr. Damon, was inside the airs.h.i.+p doing some small repairs.