CHAPTER VII
THE AIR GLIDER
Mr. Damon continued to hammer away at the window sash with the piece ofdriftwood. There were splinters of the frame and jagged pieces of glasssticking out, making it dangerous for the exile to slip through.
"Come on! Come on!" the eccentric man continued to call. "Bless mysafety valve! We'll save you! Come on!"
Mr. Petrofsky was leaping across the room, just ahead of the one guard.The other two were at the open door now, through which Tom could beseen. Then the spies, realizing in an instant that they had beendeceived, made a dash after their comrade, who had his hand on thetails of the exile's coat.
"Break away! Break loose!" cried Mr. Damon, who, by this time hadcleared the window so a person could get through. "Don't let them holdyou!"
"I don't intend to!" retorted Mr. Petrofsky, and he swerved suddenly,tearing his coat, from the grasp of the guard.
In another instant the exile was at the casement, and was being helpedthrough by Mr. Damon, and there was need of it, for the three guardswere there now, doing their best to keep their prisoner.
"Pull away! Pull away!" cried Mr. Damon.
"We'll help you!" shouted Tom, who, now that his trick had worked, hadsped around to the other side of the hut.
"Don't be afraid, we're with you!" exclaimed the detective, who waswith the young inventor.
"Grab him! Keep him! Hold him!" fairly screamed the rearmost of thethree guards. "It is a plot of the Nihilists to rescue him. Shoot him,comrades. He must not get away!"
"Don't you try any of your shooting games, or I'll take a hand in it!"shouted the detective, and, at the same moment he drew his revolver andfired harmlessly in the air.
"A bomb! A bomb!", yelled the guards in terror.
"Not yet, but there may be!" murmured Tom. The firing of the shotproduced a good effect, for the three men who were trying to detainIvan Petrofsky at once fell back from the window and gave him just thechance needed. He scrambled through, with the aid of Mr. Damon, andbefore the guards could again spring at him, which they did when theechoes of the shot had died away. They had realized, too late, that itwas not a bomb, and that there was no immediate danger for them.
"Come on!" cried Tom. "Make for the airship! We've got to get the startof them!"
Leading the way, he sprinted toward the road that led to the placewhere the airship awaited them. He was followed by Mr. Damon and thedetective, who had Mr. Petrofsky between them.
"Are you all right?" Tom called back to the exile. "Are you hurt? Canyou run?"
"I'm all right," was the reassuring answer. "Go ahead; But they'll beright after us."
"Maybe they'll stop when they see this," remarked the detectivesignificantly, and he held his revolver so that the rays of thenewly-risen moon glinted on it.
"Here they come!" cried Tom a moment later, as three figures, one afterthe other, came around the corner of the house. They had not taken theshorter route through the window, as had Mr. Petrofsky, and this gaineda little time for our friends.
"Stop! Hold on!" cried one of the guards in fairly good English. "Thatis our prisoner."
"Not any more!" the young inventor yelled back. "He's ours now."
"Look out! They're going to shoot!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless mygunpowder! can't you stop them some way or other, Mr. Detective?"
"The only way is by firing first," answered Mr. Trivett, "and I don'twant to hurt them. Guess I'll fire in the air again."
He did, and the guards halted. They seemed to be holding aconsultation, as Tom learned by glancing hastily back, and he caughtthe glisten of some weapon. But if the three men had any notion offiring they gave it up, and once more came on running. Doubtless theyhad orders to get their prisoner back to Russia alive, and did not wantto take any chances of hitting him.
"Leg it!" cried Tom. "Leg it!"
He was well ahead, and wanted the others to catch up to him, but noneof the men was a good runner, and Mr. Petrofsky, by reason of beingrather heavily built, was worse than the other two, so they had toaccommodate their pace to his.
"I wonder if we can make it," mused Tom, as he realized that theairship was a good distance off yet the guards, though quite a way inthe rear now were coming on fast. "It's going to be a close race,"thought the young inventor. "I wish we'd brought the airship a littlenearer."
It was indeed a race now, for the guards, seeming to know that theywould not be shot at, were coming on more confidently, and were rapidlylessening the distance that separated them from their recent prisoner.
"We've got to go faster!" cried Tom.
"Bless my shoe leather!" yelled Mr. Damon. "I can't go any faster."
Still he did make the attempt, and so did the exile and the detective.Little was said now, for each of the parties was running a dogged race,and in silence. They had gone possibly half a mile, and the firstadvantage of Tom and his friends was rapidly being lost, when suddenlythere sounded in the air above a curious throbbing noise.
"Bless my gasolene! What's that?" cried Mr. Damon.
"The airship! It's the airship!" yelled Tom, as he saw a great darkshape slowly approaching. "Ned is bringing her to meet us."
"Good!" cried the detective. "We need it I'm about winded!"
"This way, Ned! This way!" cried Tom, and, an instant later, they werein the midst of a brilliant glow, for Ned had turned the current intothe great searchlight on the bow of the air craft, and the beams werefocused on our friends. Ned could now see the refugees, and in a momenthe sent the graceful craft down, bringing it to a halt on the groundnear Tom.
"In with you!" cried the lad. "She's all ready to start up again!"
"Come on!" yelled Tom to the others. "We're all right now, if youhustle!"
"Bless my pin cushion!" gasped Mr. Damon, making a final spurt.
The three guards had halted in confusion on seeing the big, black bulkof the airship, and when they noted the gleaming of the searchlightthey must have realized that their chances were gone. They made a rush,however, but it was too late. Over the side of the craft scrambled Tom,Mr. Damon, the detective and Ivan Petrofsky, and an instant later Nedhad sent it aloft. The race was over, and the young inventor and hisfriends had won.
"You're the stuff!" cried Tom to Ned, as he went with his chum to thepilot house to direct the progress of the airship. "It's lucky you camefor us. We never could have made the distance. We left the ship too faroff."
"That's what I thought after you'd gone," replied his chum. "So Idecided to come and meet you. I had to go slowly so as not to pass youin the darkness."
They were speeding off now, and Ned, turning the beams of the greatsearchlight below them, picked up the three guards who were gazinghelplessly aloft after their fast disappearing prisoner.
"You're having your first ride in an airship, Mr. Petrofsky," remarkedTom, when they had gone on for some little distance. "How do you likeit?"
"I'm so excited I hardly know, but it's quite a sensation. But how inthe world did you ever find me to rescue me?"
Then they told the story of their search, and the unexpected clew fromRussia. In turn the exile told how he had been attacked at thebreakfast table one morning by the three spies--the very men who hadbeen shadowing him--and taken away secretly, being drugged to preventhis calling for help. He had been kept a close prisoner in the lonelyhut, and each day he had expected to be taken back to serve out hissentence in Siberia.
"Another day would have been too late," he told Tom, when he hadthanked the young inventor over and over again, "for the papers wouldhave arrived, and the last obstacle to taking me back to Russia wouldhave been removed. They dared not take me out of the United Stateswithout official documents, and they would have been forged ones, forthey intended trumping up a criminal charge against me, the politicalone not being strong enough to allow them to extradite me."
"Well I'm glad we got you," said Tom heartily. "We will soon be readyto start for Siberia."
"In this kind of a craft?"
"Yes, only much larger. You'll like it. I only hope my air gliderworks."
By putting on speed, Tom was able to reach Shopton before midnight, andthere was quite an informal celebration in the Swift homestead over therescue 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.
"You'd better stay here until we are ready to start," Tom said, "andthen we can keep an eye on you. We need you to show us as nearly aspossible where the platinum field is."
"All right," agreed the Russian with a laugh. "I'm sure I'll do all Ican for you, and you are certainly treating me very nicely after what Isuffered from my captors."
Tom resumed work on his air glider the next day, and he had anadditional helper, for Mr. Petrofsky proved to be a good mechanic.
In brief, the air glider was like an aeroplane save that it had nomotor. It was raised by a strong wind blowing against transverseplanes, and once aloft was held there by the force of the air currents,just like a box kite is kept up. To make it progress either with oragainst the wind, there were horizontal and vertical rudders, andsliding weights, by which the equilibrium could be shifted so as toraise or lower it. While it could not exactly move directly against thewind it could progress in a direction contrary to which the gale wasblowing, somewhat as a sailing ship "tacks."
And, as has been explained, the harder the wind blew the better the airglider worked. In fact unless there was a strong gale it would not goup.
"But it will be just what is needed out there in that part of Siberia,"declared the exile, "for there the wind is never quiet. Often it blowsa regular hurricane."
"That's what we want!" cried Tom. He had made several models of the airglider, changing them as he found out his errors, and at last he hadhit on the right shape and size.
Midway of the big glider, on which work was now well started, there wasto be an enclosed car for the carrying of passengers, their food andsupplies. Tom figured on carrying five or six.
For several weeks the work on the air glider progressed rapidly, and itwas nearing completion. Meanwhile nothing more had been heard or seenof the Russian spies.
"Well," announced Tom one night, after a day's hard work, "we'll beready for a trial now, just as soon as there comes a good wind."
"Is it all finished?" asked Ned.
"No, but enough for a trial spin. What I want is a big wind now."
Tom Swift and His Air Glider; Or, Seeking the Platinum Treasure Page 7