CHAPTER XVITO THE RESCUE
“Whatare we going to do, Tom?” asked Ned of his chum, beside whom he stood in the forward part of the airship as it settled down in the midst of the Yellow Gypsies.
“Let’s wait and see which way the cat jumps,” was the answer. “These chaps may not be as bad as Peltok thinks they are.”
“They look nasty enough,” commented Brinkley.
“I wouldn’t like to meet ’em after dark,” said Hartman, to which Ned added:
“Well, we’re going to be with ’em after dark, all right.”
It was evident that this would be the case, for Peltok, who had run back to the motor room after the ship landed, now came out to say:
“There’s a puncture in the port radiator. Hole right through it.”
“How do you account for that?” asked Tom, quickly.
“Looks like a bullet hole,” said the machinist, while the Yellow Gypsies, their number now greatly increased, crowded closer in on the disabled ship.
“Must have come from one of the bullets fired by the Turks,” said Tom. “Probably it caused a slow leak, and that’s why it didn’t develop until just now.”
“But what about these chaps?” asked Ned. “They evidently mean business!”
There could be little doubt of this, for, with savage cries, many of the yellow-faced men were swarming over the craft. Their complexions were of a peculiar hue of yellow, somewhat like Chinese, yet they did not have the cast of features of the Celestials.
“They’ve got their knives out!” cried Ned. “They’ll slit the wing fabric, Tom, and then we shall be in bad.”
“They won’t slit my wing fabric!” the young inventor said, with a chuckle. “It’s aluminum. They can’t cut it, but they might bend it. Get off there, you yellow beggars!” he yelled at the Gypsies, but they did not seem at all impressed and only laughed sneeringly.
“Let me try to talk to them,” suggested Peltok.
“Do you speak their lingo?” asked Hartman.
“He talks anything, including United States!” declared Ned, with a laugh, though the situation was anything but funny. The scowling Yellow Gypsies seemed bent on mischief—as though they resented the coming of the airship.
Peltok took his position at one of the windows, held up his hands for silence, which came grudgingly from the nomads, and began to address them. His words had a peculiar snarling quality.
But what he said seemed to be understood, for there were murmurs among the men as though they were about to make reply. Peltok continued, speaking more rapidly and emphatically.
“What are you telling them?” asked Tom when the interpreter paused for breath.
“I had to romance a little,” was the answer. “I said we were strangers from the stars who had come to visit our earthly friends.”
“Will they believe you?” asked Tom.
“I don’t know,” was the doubtful reply. “They don’t seem to think I am telling the truth. I tried to impress them with our supernatural origin. I’m sure they never saw an aeroplane before and know nothing about it. But if we could impress them in some way and make them believe we are supernatural characters we might get them to withdraw. I’ll try it again.”
Once more he addressed the Yellow Gypsies, but did not seem to be making much of an impression. They hooted and cried sneeringly and more than one shook a gun or a knife at Peltok.
“What are they saying?” asked Tom.
“They say they don’t believe me. They say we look just like themselves except for color, and they think this is only a new kind of railroad train, which of course they are more or less familiar with. I’m afraid they’re going to rush us.”
It did look so, for the Gypsies were now gathering on all sides of the craft, hemming her in. As a matter of fact, even without the savage men, theAir Monarchcould not have risen until the leaky radiator was repaired.
“If we could only impress them in some way!” murmured Peltok.
“I’ll impress them!” cried Tom, starting for the motor control room. “Start the land motor!” he cried to the two machinists.
“What are you going to do?” asked Ned.
“Use our wheels and roll along!” Tom answered. “I’ll plow through that bunch if they don’t get out of the way, but I think they’ll get all right. If we can’t sail through the air we’ll travel on land until we get out of the Gypsy country. Start the motor!”
There was a special machine for operating the craft when on land, and Brinkley and Hartman sprang to get this going. Peltok went to their aid, and Ned took his place beside Tom.
The Yellow Gypsies seemed about ready to make the attack, but at the sign of this activity on the strange craft they hung back. This was the very opportunity for which Tom Swift had been waiting.
“Here we go!” he cried, as he pulled the lever meshing the gears of the land wheels. TheAir Monarchleaped forward, and Tom slued her around until her blunt nose pointed to the crowd where it was thinnest. “I’ll ram them!” the inventor shouted.
Some of the Yellow Gypsies seemed to understand what was going to happen and yelled to their companions to leap out of the way. But those directly in front of the craft seemed stubborn, and held their ground.
“You’ll run right over them and kill a lot, Tom!” Ned warned. “That may set them wild!”
“I won’t run over any of them!” said the other with a grim smile.
The machine was careening on over the uneven ground, but still the Gypsies in front did not budge. And then, when it seemed that the aluminum nose of the craft would push into their midst and the big wheels crush them, Tom suddenly pulled on a lever over his head as he stood at the steering wheel.
Instantly a white vapor was projected straight into the faces of the Yellow Gypsies. This seemed to knock them over as if a hail of bullets had hit them. They fell in heaps. Tom quickly turned the nose of theAir Monarch, and those now in its path scrambled to one side so that a lane was left for Tom to guide his craft down.
Though the windows of the cabin were all closed Ned caught a whiff of a powerful, pungent chemical.
“What is it, Tom?” he cried.
“Ammonia gas!” was the answer. “I rigged up two tubes, forward and aft, to project ammonia. I thought we might get in a tight corner some day, and it would help. We won’t get much of it inside here, but it’s strong out there!”
And strong it was, for the stuff, though it would have no lasting ill effects, actually knocked the victims down, rendering them helpless.
When those on either side saw what had happened to their comrades in front, the horde of Yellow Gypsies melted away like dew under the hot sun. Tom guided his craft past those who were knocked out, taking care not to run over any, and in a short time had run out of the forest clearing to a smooth, level road that led onward in the direction he wished to travel.
“Good work, Tom!” cried Ned, when they were safe for at least a time. “That ammonia gas was a wonderful idea!”
Peltok, opening a window at the rear of the ship, which was rapidly moving out of the zone of the powerful smell, called back to the discomfited Gypsies, some of whom were now reviving.
“I told you we were from the stars!” the interpreter said in the Gypsy tongue. “And doubtless you saw not only stars but suns, moons, and comets!”
Then the machine moved onward, now traveling on land, of course, not so fast as in the air.
“But we’ll get to some quiet place where we can lay to and mend that leaky radiator,” declared Tom.
Presently they reached a broad, level plain which would make an ideal starting field in the morning.
“We’ll have to work all night, if necessary, on that radiator,” Tom said. “This is our second delay. We can’t afford many more.”
The Gypsies seemed to have been left behind as night settled down. The travelers were in a lonely stretch of country. For this, however, they were glad. While Tom and Ned got the supper, the three mechanics worked on the punctured radiator. Presently, in one of the water coils, a bullet was found, undoubtedly fired by the Turkish party.
Mending the leak was not as easy as had been hoped and it was well on toward morning before theAir Monarchwas again ready to justify her name. It was found to be impossible to travel along on land while repairs were being made, owing to their delicacy. On other occasions this might not be the case.
“Get a little rest, men, and we’ll hop off early in the morning,” Tom said, and while he and Ned stood watch, the other three got some much needed sleep.
The sun was just tinting the east when the signal for getting under way was once more given, but just as the craft was starting to taxi over the plain, to get momentum to mount toward the sky, there came rushing toward the travelers those same Yellow Gypsies again, only five times as many.
“They’re after us this time for sure!” yelled Peltok, who caught some of the threatening yells. “They are going to be revenged on us for what we did last night.”
“What a mob!” cried Ned as hundreds of the Gypsies rushed toward the airship, which was all ready to leave.
Tom tried to increase his speed to take off before the angry and savage warriors could approach, but the motors were cold and not running at their best.
“Ram them!” advised Ned, and it seemed to be the only thing to do. Some would, undoubtedly, be killed when the craft crushed its way through them, but she might soon rise above them and all would be well, save that they would probably send a volley of shots after the travelers.
Tom had about decided to do this, terrible as it seemed, when Peltok, who was looking from a rear window cried:
“Here they come! Here they come to the rescue!”
“Who?” asked Ned.
“The forest patrol—like your state police. They’ll scatter these Yellow Gypsies!”
Then all those in the airship saw a squad of Persian mounted men sweeping across the plain toward them. This squad at once opened fire on the horde that sought to stay Tom Swift in his world flight.
CHAPTER XVIIKILBORN'S TRICK
“Nowyou will see a fight!” cried Peltok. “I know those Yellow Gypsies and I know the Persian forest rangers. You will see a pretty fight.”
“I didn’t start this world flight to witness a skirmish between bandits and the soldiers,” said Tom, with grim humor. “I want to get under way again.”
“You will presently,” predicted Peltok.
In another moment, amid wild shouts, the cavalry opened fire on the Gypsies, some of whom shot in return, though most of the bandits, for they were little less, turned to flee.
There seemed to be a perpetual feud between these two bodies, one representing law and the other crime, for they did not stop to parley, but at once began fighting. And Tom Swift did not flatter himself that the soldiers had come merely to rescue him. No word had been sent asking for help.
“The Gypsies are bad,” explained Peltok, “and the forest rangers fight them whenever they can. See! They are on the run now!”
“That’s right!” echoed Ned.
“And it’s time for us to be on the move!” said Tom. “Get ready!” he called to his helpers.
The advent of the soldiers had scattered the savage men from in front of the aeroplane, and she could now speed over the level place and take off into the air.
A moment later, while the “pretty fight” was still going on, Tom pulled back the lever of the elevating plane. Up shot theAir Monarch, and amid yells of surprise from the horsemen, some of whom had evidently not expected the craft to do this, the machine sailed aloft and was soon winging its way toward cloudland, safe from further molestation on the part of the Yellow Gypsies.
“Those rangers, or whatever they are, came in the nick of time,” said Tom when he had turned the management of the ship over to Brinkley while he and Ned went to make some calculations regarding their course. “We couldn’t have stood much more delay.”
“We can make up for lost time now,” Ned remarked, and, indeed, the craft was now spinning along faster than it had ever gone before. The repairs had improved the motors.
“Well, we are holding our own, at any rate,” Tom said when he and his chum had figured out how far they had come, how much distance yet remained to cover, and how much time they had to do it in. “I hoped we’d be a bit ahead of our schedule when we were near China, but we aren’t. Only just above even. But that’s better than being behind.”
“Are we over China now?” asked Ned, “looking down as if he expected to see a red laundry sign,” declared his chum, laughing.
“We shall be soon,” answered Tom seriously when his laugh was over. “We’ll have to land there, too, for more gas and oil. There’s where I arranged to take it on,” and he indicated a spot on the map where the eastern Turkestan city of Yarkand was located. “When we leave there we’ll head right across the great Chinese Empire, or rather, Republic, as it is now, over the lower edge of the Gobi Desert, perhaps, and then on to the Pacific.”
“Why, Tom!” Ned exclaimed with shining eyes, “we’ve almost won the race already, haven’t we?”
“Not by a long shot!” exclaimed Tom emphatically. “The hardest part of the trip is yet before us, and I fear the journey over the Pacific more than anything else!”
“Why?”
“On account of the storms—especially in the vicinity of the China coast and the Japanese islands. We may run into a typhoon.”
“Not so good,” murmured Ned, as he gazed at the map.
“Oh, well, we sha'n’t worry about that until we get there,” observed Tom more cheerfully. “We’re on our way, anyhow,” and indeed they were, with the wonderful machine throbbing her course through space.
Tom Swift well realized that he must make his best speed while in the air. Though his craft could do fairly well on land or in the water, the less actual distance he had to travel onaqua puraorterra firmathe better chance he would have of winning the race. His most feared rival—Kilborn in theRed Arrow—could travel only in the air, and would keep to that medium. Though of course, having a hydroplane, he could, to a certain extent, move over the water.
“But the race will be decided by air travel,” said Tom, and to this end he determined to devote all his energies.
It was shortly after noon, when Brinkley had served an appetizing meal in the little cabin, that Peltok, who had been told by Tom what course to follow, announced that they were approaching Yarkand.
“Land there!” ordered Tom. “I don’t know just how near our oil and gas supply in Yarkand is to our landing field, but pick out the best spot and we can have the supplies brought out to us.”
“Right!” exclaimed the navigator, and a little later the big craft came to a gentle stop on a big plain on the farther edge of which was the city.
No sooner had theAir Monarchlanded than she was surrounded by a swarm of curious natives, a sort of a cross between a Chinese and an Indian, Ned declared. They were friendly, however, and laughed with glee as they beheld the “foreign devils” and their queer craft.
Here Peltok’s linguistic abilities were useful, for he was soon talking with the natives “like a house afire,” as Tom said, and in a little while the interpreter announced that he had arranged for Tom’s supply of oil and gas to be brought out.
“Then sha'n’t we take this chance to stretch our legs?” proposed Tom to Ned. “We’ll walk about a bit and the mechanics will have time to tune up the motors. I don’t like the way the starboard one is behaving.”
He gave his instructions to Brinkley and Hartman, and then, with Peltok looking after things, uttering dire threats in their own language to the Turkestan natives, who seemed to want to pull the machinery apart, Tom and Ned strolled about. They would have about an hour to wait, and decided to go into the ancient city.
As they were entering it, Ned pointed off to the left and uttered a cry of surprise.
“There’s theRed Arrow!” he said.
“That’s right!” agreed Tom, as he caught sight of Kilborn’s big, crimson hydroplane circling about as if preparing for a landing. “He’s following me close.”
“But he isn’t going to land near us,” commented Ned, for theRed Arrowwas heading down on a different part of the plain from that occupied by Tom Swift’s craft.
“Glad of it,” the inventor remarked. “I don’t want any more trouble with him. He’s a crook!”
Then the two young men forgot their anxieties in viewing the wonders of the old place, while curious natives crowded about them. They wandered into one of the bazaars, where Tom bought some trinkets for Mary and Ned a souvenir for Helen.
“And while we’re here,” said Tom to his chum, “we can mail some postcards back home. We may not get another chance.”
“Good idea,” agreed Ned.
They were in the local post-office, to them a queer sort of place, where they found a native who could speak enough English to tell them what they wanted to know about stamps and cards and the mails.
While they were writing their messages, Ned observed two men, who seemed to be officials of some sort, hurriedly enter the post-office and talk with the man who had acted as interpreter. But the young man gave this scene little thought until he and Tom were ready to leave.
Then Ned saw these same two officials barring their way out. Tom also became aware of something and exclaimed, respectfully enough:
“One side, please! We’re in a hurry to get back to our ship!”
But the two officers did not move, and one drew from its scabbard an ugly, curved sword.
“Look out, Tom,” warned Ned in a low voice. “This looks like trouble!”
“It will be of their making, not ours!” snapped Tom. “What’s the idea?” he went on, for he was anxious to start off again. “Get out of the way!” he ordered the man with the drawn sword. “Tell him he’s making a mistake,” he said to the man who had translated the request for stamps and cards.
There was a lively interchange of words between the officers and the interpreter, and the latter, with a shrug of his shoulders, turned to Tom and Ned, saying:
“You cannot go!”
“Can’t go where?”
“Away from here. You are under arrest!”
“Under arrest? Nonsense!” yelled Tom Swift. “What for?”
“It seems you have no official permission to land your airship near the city,” the interpreter answered. “You must be taken to jail!”
“It’s a plot, Tom!” exclaimed Ned. “It’s a trick on the part of Kilborn to delay us!”
“I’m afraid it is,” said Tom in a low voice. “We’ve got to get out of this in some way. Stand by me now, Ned! I’ll see what a little strategy will do!”
Tom turned toward the two officers, a grim look on his face.
CHAPTER XVIIICHINESE BANDITS
Talkingrapidly in his own language, the officer with the sword said something to the man who had acted as interpreter before Tom could say anything further.
“What’s he talking about?” Ned wanted to know.
“He say if you be ready he take you to jail now. Judge hear you talk to-morrow,” was the interpreter’s answer.
“Oh, he’ll hold us for a hearing to-morrow, will he?” snapped out Tom Swift. “That doesn’t suit me. Look here,” he went on, to Yal, which the interpreter had said was his name, “ask him how it is he doesn’t arrest that other fellow who landed not far from me. The red airship! Why didn’t he arrest that pilot? Kilborn his name is.”
“I ask,” offered Yal, and there was more talk before he turned to Tom and Ned, saying:
“Red machine man he have permit to land. He send money on for it week ago.”
“That’s a point we missed,” remarked Tom to Ned. “And I’m pretty sure Kilborn put up this game on us. As soon as he landed and saw we were here, he bribed these fellows to arrest us. I don’t believe there’s any permit needed at all.”
“Well, what can you do about it?” asked Ned. “They’ve got the upper hand of us.”
Truly it seemed so, for now a squad of native soldiers, ugly and unkempt enough but armed with swords and guns, came swarming around the post-office. One of the two officers who had arrested Tom and Ned took charge of the squad.
“I’m going to buy a permit here and now,” Tom said, with a smile. “There’s no use trying to fight these fellows except with money. Look here,” he went on to Yal. “Tell that officer I’m sorry I didn’t know about a permit, but I’m willing to pay for one now and also pay him for his trouble in getting it, and I’ll pay you for translating this to him.”
At this the eyes of the interpreter sparkled, as did those of the two officers when Tom took out some United States gold pieces. Gold speaks a universal language, and when Tom had clinked the pieces in his hands a few times there was a quick exchange of spitfire language between Yal and the tallest of the two officers. Then Yal said:
“Mebby so he get you a permit for money.”
“Have him try,” said Tom, with a significant smile, as he passed over some of the gold pieces.
The tall officer hurried away while his companion arranged the ragged, dirty soldiers rather in the form of a bodyguard about the two aviators than as a squad sent to arrest them.
“I think everything is going to come out all right,” said Tom to his chum.
It did; for a few minutes later the tall officer, now all smiles, came hurrying back, bearing a paper covered with big red and gold seals. This he handed to Tom while Yal said:
“Him got permit for you. Now you can go—for a little more gold!” and his eyes gleamed greedily.
“I guess it’s worth the money,” commented Tom, as he handed over the remaining five dollar gold pieces, “if it’s only to get the best of that skunk Kilborn.”
Some orders were shouted to the soldiers, they in turn yelled at the rabble, and Tom and Ned were allowed to walk out as they pleased. They lost no time in hastening back to their craft, where they found that the work of taking on the oil, gas, and other supplies had been completed.
Peltok was pacing about, looking anxiously up and down. At the sight of the two young men, who were followed by a crowd of boys, he said:
“I was afraid something had happened. That Kilborn was sneaking around here, looking as tickled as a cat with cream on her whiskers.”
“Something did happen,” explained Tom. “And that Kilborn won’t be so pleased the next time he calls.”
“Here he is now,” said Ned in a low voice as the pilot of theRed Arrowwas observed pushing his way through the crowd. His craft could be seen off in the distance down in a little hollow. He, too, it appeared, had landed for supplies.
At the sight of Tom and Ned about to enter the cabin of theAir Monarch, the face of the rascal underwent a change. He started back as Tom mockingly remarked:
“Well, you’re following us pretty close, Mr. Kilborn. How much did you have to pay for your landing permit?”
“I didn’t pay—I don’t know anything about it!” snapped the man, his face almost as red as his machine. “I can’t help it if my route parallels yours. The air is free.”
“But landing in Yarkand doesn’t seem to be,” went on Tom. “Your little trick cost me some money!”
“What trick? I haven’t done anything. I—I——”
“There’s no use in talking about it,” broke in the young inventor. “I know what you did! But I held a trump card,” and with that Tom went to the pilot house and gave the word to take off.
The machine was soon again soaring in the air and, looking back, Ned reported that theRed Arrowwas also in progress.
“He’s following us, Tom,” the young inventor’s financial manager stated.
“Let him come!” said Tom grimly. “If he tries any more of his tricks I’ll not let him off so easily next time.”
Wishing to put as much distance as possible between himself and his most dangerous rival, Tom signaled for some of the super gas to be used, and this so speeded up the motors that theRed Arrow, fast as she was traveling, was soon left behind, lost in the mist of the upper regions.
All that day and through the night, Tom Swift’s powerful craft winged her way onward, covering mile after mile. When the pilot thought he had gained enough on Kilborn’s craft he changed back to the ordinary fuel, saving the powerful gasoline for another emergency.
It was shortly after breakfast, when Tom and Ned were taking some very much limited exercise by walking about the cabin, that Peltok, with a worried look on his face, came in to report:
“I’m afraid we’ll have to make another landing, Mr. Swift.”
“Land again? What for?” asked Tom.
“One of the carburetors seems to be choked and the adjustment of it is such a delicate matter that I don’t believe we can do it in the air. We are constantly losing speed, and also getting off our course, as one motor is more powerful than the other.”
“Well, if we must land, we must,” agreed Tom ruefully. “But we are losing too much time. It can’t be helped, I suppose. Go down, then!”
“Where shall we land?” asked Ned.
“Somewhere in China,” was Tom’s answer, as he looked at the route map.
A little later they floated down on a vast plain in a lonely region where there was not a habitation in sight and where there seemed to be no life stirring.
“I don’t believe we’ll be disturbed here,” remarked Tom, as he got out of the machine, followed by Ned. “It’s as lonesome as the middle of a desert. Well, let’s have a look at that carburetor.”
He had no sooner got it disconnected from the feed line than he saw that extensive repairs were needed.
“It will take all of a day, maybe more,” he said, with a sigh.
“Another day lost!” exclaimed Ned. “That’s bad!”
“Oh, we’ll make it up!” declared Tom, with a smile. “We’ve got some of that super gas left. I’m saving that for a grand-stand finish.”
Since they were to be held in this lonely Chinese region for a day, the young inventor and Ned Newton planned to roam about and take matters easy while the three machinists made a new part for the defective one in the carburetor.
That evening, as Tom and Ned sat in front of the machine, they heard, off to the right, a roaring, pulsating sound which had a meaning for them. They looked in the direction of the noise, but on account of the mist could see nothing.
“An aeroplane, as sure as guns!” exclaimed Ned.
“And theRed Arrow, if I know anything about gasoline!” added Tom. “That’s just how her motors sound. Well, I hope Kilborn doesn’t spot us held up here.”
The sound of the throbbing engines died suddenly, and at this Tom sprang to his feet.
“He’s shut off!” he exclaimed. “He’s going to land!”
“Seems so,” admitted Ned. “But he may not spot us,” and as they had no sight of the rival plane, they concluded that the mist hid them as it also hid theRed Arrow.
“We’ll stand guard to-night,” decided Tom, and so watch was kept. But nothing happened during the hours of darkness.
The sun was scarcely up when Brinkley and Hartman rose, to resume work on the carburetor. But it was Ned who, looking out of his cabin window, uttered a cry of alarm.
“What is it?” asked Tom.
“Chinese bandits!” was the answer. “They’re going to surround us! We’re in for it now, Tom!”
As the young inventor peered out, he saw a horde of fierce-looking Chinese advancing toward the stalled airship.
CHAPTER XIXTHE TYPHOON
“Troublesurely is hovering over us!” grimly mused Tom Swift, as he leaped out of bed and hurried into the pilot house, where he found Peltok and the two machinists gathered.
“Can you speak the language of these bandits?” asked Tom of Peltok. For that the advancing Chinese were bandits there was little doubt.
“Oh, yes, I can talk to them. But it will do little good, I fear,” was the answer. “They make it a practice to capture foreigners whenever they can, to hold them for ransom.”
“And they’re likely to capture us unless we can rise soon!” exclaimed Tom. “Can we?” he asked the machinists.
Brinkley shook his head while his companion said:
“It will take about two hours more to fix that carburetor and adjust it.”
“Then we’ve got to fight!” said Tom. “All right, if they want that they can have it! Get out the guns, Ned!” he cried. “Peltok, you man the ammonia tubes. Hartman, you——”
“Wait a minute!” advised Peltok. “I think if we drive the machine on her wheels in the direction of these bandits they may scatter. They are not as intelligent as the Yellow Gypsies. We can run on land with only one motor. It will be better than starting a fight, for it will take only a few bullets to damage the machine beyond repair.”
“That’s right,” agreed Tom. “But do you think we can bluff ’em?”
“It’s worth trying,” Peltok answered. “I’ll give them a word of warning!”
He leaned out of the pilot house window and shouted something which, as Ned said later, sounded like the back fire of an auto. The oncoming Chinese, none of whom were mounted, halted and talked among themselves.
“I told them,” said Peltok to Tom, “that you would mow them down as a typhoon mows down a rice field if they did not scatter.”
“What did they say?”
“They expressed some doubts, but I have them frightened. If you’ll start the machine and open the cut-out so the muffler isn’t working, I think they’ll run.”
“Better that than shooting them,” declared Tom.
It did not take long to start the land motor, and when the engine was warmed up Tom opened the cut-out, and such a staccato, rapid series of explosions resulted as to make it sound like a battery of machine guns in action.
There were surprised shouts from the bandits, and some of them started to run. A few however held their ground.
“Shave her nose right into the midst of them!” advised Peltok. “But run slow, and knock them down gently. Since the propellers are aft they will do no damage.”
So Tom, guiding the craft, put her in motion toward a knot of the scowling Chinese bandits, some of whom seemed about to fire with their antiquated guns.
But when the bandits saw the powerful craft headed straight for them and when the foremost in the line were gently but effectively bowled over, rolling out of the way of the wheels just in time to save their lives, it was too much for the spirit of the rascals.
With cackling, shrill cries they turned and fled, and in a little while the plain was cleared of them. At this Tom Swift was well pleased, for he did not wish to take life, even of a bandit, if he could avoid it.
“Might just as well keep right on with the land motor,” advised Ned when the way was clear before them. “We can get to some place better fitted to stand off an attack than we were back there. And we’ll be delayed a bit yet, sha'n’t we?”
“I’m afraid we can’t get that carburetor tuned up before to-morrow morning,” Hartman reported. He was an expert on this particular part of a gasoline motor. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get to some place where we’d have a hill at our backs,” he added.
“All right,” agreed Tom Swift, so he guided the craft for several miles across the treeless plain until they reached a plateau which they thought would be a good place to stop.
“Now, boys, make the best time you can on that carburetor,” begged Tom of his mechanics when they were again at rest. It was decided that it would be wiser to lay to until the repairs were completed, rather than to try to make distance by traveling on land. TheAir Monarchwas not at her best climbing hills.
Though the delay fretted Tom, there was no help for it, and as the afternoon wore away and nothing further occurred to disturb the party, they had visions of taking off early in the morning and heading once more through the air on their course.
“An hour’s work in the morning, and we’ll be all set,” announced Hartman as he and the other two mechanics, weary with their labors, sought some much-needed rest. Peltok, who was a nervous, restless man, said he would stroll about a bit before turning in, and as Tom and Ned sought their bunks they saw him walking off in the darkness.
In spite of his anxiety over the delay, Tom Swift was soon asleep. How long he had slumbered he did not know, but he was suddenly awakened by some one shaking him and in the dim light of a small electric lamp in his cabin he saw Peltok bending over him.
“What is it?” asked Tom, starting up. “Is it morning? Are we going to leave now?”
“I don’t know whether we can leave or not,” was the answer. “We are in great danger. Listen. I walked out this evening and, most unexpectedly, I came upon a place where theRed Arrowis hidden in a glen.”
“TheRed Arrow?” cried Tom. “You mean Kilborn’s ship?”
“Yes. She is right near-by, and I believe he and his men know we are here. But that isn’t the worst. Kilborn has hired a band of Chinese bandits to attack us just before sunrise, disable our plane, and capture us!”
“Are you sure of this?” gasped Tom.
“Very sure! I crept near enough in the darkness to overhear all the details. Kilborn was talking to the bandits through an interpreter, and I heard all that was said. The bandits are angry because we repulsed them this morning, and they are eager for revenge. They promised Kilborn to attack us in force, to wreck our machine and to carry us off.”
“The dirty rascal!” cried Tom. “What can we do?”
“If we could finish those repairs and be ready to start up before they got here, we’d trick them,” said Peltok. And when Ned, who was aroused by the talk, heard what was in prospect, he too, advised the same thing.
“Then we’ll do it!” decided Tom. “I hate to route Joe and Bill out of bed again, but it’s got to be done.”
Never a word of protest came from the two mechanics as they sleepily rolled out of their berths, and, with the help of Peltok and Tom, while Ned managed a flashlight, went to work adjusting the carburetor and fitting it in place.
“Now we’ll try it,” said Hartman when, toward morning, the last of the adjustments were made.
“But if we start the motors and they don’t work,” objected Ned, “won’t those bandits, who must be camped near here and waiting, hear them and come to the attack.”
“We’ve got to chance it,” said Tom.
Luckily, just as they began to make the test a violent storm, with heavy thunder, came up, and the sound of the motors’ exhausts were drowned in the furious rumbles from the sky. The bandits heard nothing of the trial of the airship’s machinery and, to the delight of Tom and his friends, the carburetor functioned perfectly.
“We’re ready to go up now!” announced Peltok, as the first rosy tints in the sky denoted the coming of dawn. “Everything is all right. We’re going up!”
“And here come the bandits!” cried Ned as, through the windows of the pilot house, he saw a crowd of Chinese advancing.
“Lively!” ordered Tom. “It’s going to be touch and go!”
The motors roared as more gas was turned on. TheAir Monarchtrembled, seemed to cling for an instant to the earth, and then she began moving rapidly.
A cry of astonishment and rage burst from the bandits, who had not expected this. It was rapidly getting light. Tom was in charge of the controls and, waiting only until the craft had acquired sufficient momentum, he pulled on the elevating rudder handle.
“There’s Kilborn!” shouted Ned, as he caught sight of the rascal who had come out to see how his plot worked. He was yelling something, though what it was could not be heard, and he seemed to be urging the bandits to rush up and grab the airship before it could get fully off the earth.
But now the motors were warming up. The nose of the craft lifted. In desperation Kilborn yelled and waved his hands wildly. One of the bandits, directly in the path of the plane, made a jump and grabbed a rope that had, inadvertently, been left dangling. He caught it and was lifted up in the air.
“We’re taking him with us!” cried Ned, leaning out of the window to observe.
“That’s his lookout!” said Tom coolly.
But the Chinese bandit had no relish for being taken from his home in this strange fashion. With a yell, he let go the rope when he was ten feet up, and down he fell.
“Wow!” yelled Ned, with a laugh of delight. “He got his all right!”
“Who?” asked Tom, who was guiding the plane up higher and higher, out of danger.
“Kilborn,” was the answer. “That bandit fell squarely on top of him, and they both went down in a mud puddle! Oh, baby!” and Ned chuckled in delight while grins of satisfaction spread over the faces of the others.
Tom looked down in time to see the discomfited pilot of theRed Arrowpicking himself up from beneath the bandit, his clothes dripping mud and water, and then theAir Monarchshot on her way.
The remainder of that day was one void of excitement. They traveled in the air over the vast extent of China, making only one descent to get some oil, as a leak developed in one of the reservoirs, allowing much of the precious fluid to drip away. They had a little trouble with the Chinese authorities in the city where they landed. But this was not due to any scheming on the part of Kilborn. It was just a local “squeeze” custom, and Tom had to pay out money for graft. But he said he did not mind as long as he was ahead of theRed Arrow, and he felt sure that he was.
It was the middle of the next day, when they were about to leave the region above land, once more to sail over water, that Tom observed the barometer falling.
“Does it mean anything?” asked Ned, as he saw the serious look on his chum’s face.
“A storm, I’m afraid,” was the answer. “And a storm here, in the region of the Japan Sea, is anything but pleasant.”
“Bad?” asked Ned.
“The very worst,” was Tom’s reply. “But we may be able to get above it.”
He increased the speed of the motors and headed theAir Monarchin a different direction. But the glass continued to fall. The sky soon became overcast and there was a dead calm, as they could tell by looking down on the surface of the sea, which was as flat as a mill pond.
But not for long.
Suddenly there was a puff of air that swerved the craft, powerful as she was, to one side. Then came a howl as from some mighty siren whistle. Tom, who had given Peltok charge of the steering wheel, sprang to aid him as the spokes were almost torn from his hands. At the same time the young inventor cried:
“Typhoon! Typhoon! It’s going to hit us hard!”
Then, in spite of all efforts to keep her nose up, the airship began shooting down toward the surface of the sea that was now lashed into foamy waves by the power of the awful wind!