Part 26 (2/2)

Ned flashed the light downward for an instant.

”Just crossing over the St. Regis Indian reservation again,” he replied. ”We'll be in Canada in a few minutes more.”

”Where are the smugglers?”

”Still ahead, and they're bearing off to the right.”

”Going toward Montford,” commented the government man. ”We've lost 'em for to-night, anyhow, but they didn't get their goods landed, at any rate.”

”Send her down, Ned!” exclaimed Tom, and it was high time, for the pressure was now within twenty-five pounds of the exploding point.

Down shot the Falcon, while her rival pa.s.sed onward triumphantly in the darkness. Ned held the light on the smugglers as long as he dared, and then he flashed it to earth to enable Mr. Damon to pick out a good landing place.

In a few moments Tom's silent airs.h.i.+p came to rest on a little clearing in the forest, and Tom, with Ned's help, at once opened every outlet of the gas machine, a thing they had not dared do while up in the air.

”Come on, now, run, everybody!” cried Tom. ”Otherwise you'll he smothered!”

They leaped from the craft, about which gathered the fumes of the powerful gas, as it hissed from the pipes. Running a hundred yards away they were safe, and could return in a few minutes.

”We're in Canada,” remarked Mr. Whitford, as they came to a halt, watching the airs.h.i.+p.

”How do you know?” asked Ned.

”As we landed I saw one of the stone boundary posts,” was the answer. ”We're on English territory, and we can't touch the smugglers if we should see them now.”

”Well, we'll soon be back in Uncle Sam's land,” declared Tom. ”We can go back on board the Falcon to sleep shortly. Jove! I wish I could have caught those fellows!”

”Never mind, we'll get 'em yet,” counseled Mr. Whitford.

Waiting until he was sure all the vapor had disappeared, Tom led the way back to the Falcon. No great harm had been done, save to lose considerable gas, and this could be remedied. Tired and disappointed from the chase, they sought their bunks, and were soon asleep. In the morning Tom and Ned began work on the clogged pipes.

This work was nearly accomplished by noon, when Mr. Damon, coming back from a stroll, announced that they were but fifteen minutes walk from the St. Lawrence River, as he had seen the sparkling waters from a neighboring hill.

”Let's go over and have a look at it,” proposed Ned. ”We can easily finish this when we get back. Besides, Tom, we don't want to get to our regular camp until after dark, anyhow.”

The young inventor was willing, and the two lads, with Mr. Whitford, strolled toward the historic stream. As they drew near the bank, they saw, anch.o.r.ed a little distance out, a small steamer.

Approaching it, as if she had just left the sh.o.r.e at a point near where our friends stood, was a gasolene launch, containing several men, while on sh.o.r.e, in front of a small shanty, stood another man.

This latter individual, at the sight of Tom, Ned and Mr. Whitford, blew a shrill whistle. Those in the launch looked back. The man on sh.o.r.e waved a red flag in a peculiar way, almost as the soldiers in the army wig-wag signals.

In another moment the launch turned about, and put for sh.o.r.e, while the lone man hurried back into the hut.

”Hum!” remarked Tom. ”Those are queer actions.”

”Suspicious actions, I should say,” said Mr. Whitford. ”I'm going to see what this means.”

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