Part 27 (1/2)

They could only shake their heads. Indeed their task was not easy, for to recognize the place again was difficult.

More than a week pa.s.sed. They had been back and forth to their base of supplies at the airs.h.i.+p, often staying away over night, once remaining aloft all through the dark hours in the glider, in a fierce gale which prevented a landing. They ate and slept on board, and seldom descended unless at or near the place where they had left the Falcon. Once they completely crossed the zone of wind, and came to a calm place on the other side. It was as wild and desolate as the other edge.

Nearly two weeks had pa.s.sed, and Tom was almost ready to give up and go back home. He had at least accomplished part of his desire, to rescue the exile, and he had even done better than originally intended, for there was Mr. Borious who had also been saved, and it was the intention of the young inventor to take him to the United States.

”But the platinum treasure has me beat, I guess,” said Tom grimly. ”We can't seem to get a trace of it.”

Night was coming on, and he had half determined to head back for the airs.h.i.+p. Ivan Petrofsky was peering anxiously down at the desolate land, over which they were gliding. He and his brother took turns at this.

They were not far above the earth, but landmarks, such as had to be depended on to locate the mine, could not readily be observed without the gla.s.s. Mr. Damon, with a pair of ordinary field gla.s.ses, was doing all he could to pick out likely spots, though it was doubtful if he would know the place if he saw it.

However, as chance willed it, he was instrumental in bringing the quest to a close, and most unexpectedly. Peter Petrofsky was relieving his brother at the telescope, when the odd man, who had not taken his eyes from the field gla.s.ses, suddenly uttered an exclamation.

”Bless my tooth-brus.h.!.+” he cried. ”That's a most desolate place down there. A lot of trees blown down around a lake that looks as black as ink.”

”What's that!” cried Ivan Petrofsky. ”A lake as black as ink? Where?”

”We just pa.s.sed it!” replied Mr. Damon.

”Then put back there, as soon as you can, Tom!” called the Russian. ”I want to look at that place.”

With a long, graceful sweep the young inventor sent the glider back over the course. Ivan Petrofsky glued his eyes to the telescope. He picked out the spot Mr. Damon had referred to, and a moment later cried:

”That's it! That's near the lost platinum mine! We've found it again, Tom--everybody! Don't you remember, Peter,” he said turning to his brother, ”when we were lost in the snow we crawled in among a tangle of trees to get out of the blast. There was a sheet of white snow near them, and you broke through into water. I pulled you out. That must have been a lake, though it was lightly frozen over then. I believe this is the lost mine. Go down, Tom! Go down!”

”I certainly will!” cried the youth, and pulling on the descending lever he shunted the glider to earth.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE LEAKING TANKS

Like a bird descending from some dizzy height, the Vulture landed close to the pool of black water. It was a small lake and the darkness must have been caused by its depth, for later when they took some out in a gla.s.s it was as clear as a crystal. Then, too, there might have been black rocks on the bottom.

”Can it be possible that we are here at last?” cried Tom, above the noise of the gale, for the wind was blowing at a terrific rate. But our friends knew better now how to adjust themselves to it, and the lake was down in a valley, the sides of which cut off the power of the gale.

As for the glider it was only necessary to equalize the balance and it would remain stationary in any wind.

”This is the place! This is the place!” cried Ivan Petrofsky. ”Don't you remember, Peter?”

”Indeed I do! I have good cause to! This is where we found the platinum!”

”Bless my soul!” cried Mr. Damon. ”Where is it, in the lake?”

”The mine itself is just beyond that barrier of broken and twisted trees,” replied the elder Russian brother. ”It is an irregular opening in the ground, as though once, centuries ago, an ancient people tried to get out the precious metal. We will go to it at once.”

”But it is getting late,” objected Ned.

”No matter,” said Tom. ”If we find any platinum we'll stay here all night, and longer if necessary to get a good supply. This is better than the city of gold, for we're in the open.”

”I should say we were,” observed Mr. Damon, as he bent to the blast, which was strong, sheltered even as they were.