Part 27 (1/2)

The airs.h.i.+p was descending toward a little glade in the woods surrounding the old picnic ground. Men, mostly of the tramp sort, could be seen running to and fro.

”I hope my deputies close in promptly,” murmured the sheriff. ”There's a bigger bunch there than I counted on.”

From the appearance of the gang rus.h.i.+ng about it seemed as if there were at least fifty of them. Some of the fellows caught sight of the airs.h.i.+p, and, with yells, pointed upward.

Nearer and nearer to the earth settled the Red Cloud. The criminals in the camp were running wildly about. Several squads of them darted through the woods, only to come hurriedly back, where they called to their companions.

”Ha! My men are evidently on the job!” exclaimed the sheriff. ”They are turning the rascals back!”

Some of the gang were so alarmed at the sight of the great airs.h.i.+p settling down on their camp, that they could only stand and stare at it. Others were gathering sticks and stones, as if for resistance, and some could be seen to have weapons. Off to one side was a small hut, rather better than the rest of the tumbledown shacks in which the tramps lived. Tom noticed this, and saw several men gathered about it.

One seemed familiar to the lad. He called the attention of Mr. Damon to the fellow.

”Do you know him?” asked Tom eagerly.

”Bless my very existence! If it isn't Anson Morse! One of the gang!”

cried the eccentric man.

”That's what I thought,” agreed Tom. ”The bank robbers are here,” he added, to the sheriff.

”If we only recover the money we'll be doing well,” remarked Mr. Sharp.

Suddenly there came a shout from the fringe of woods surrounding the camp, and an instant later there burst from the bushes a number of men.

”My posse!” cried the sheriff. ”We ought to be down now!”

The airs.h.i.+p was a hundred feet above the ground, but Tom, opening wider the gas outlet, sent the craft more quickly down. Then, just as it touched the earth, he forced a ma.s.s of vapor into the container, making the s.h.i.+p buoyant so as to reduce the shock.

An instant later the s.h.i.+p was stationary.

Out leaped the sheriff.

”Give it to 'em, men!” he shouted.

With a yell his men responded, and fired a volley in the air.

”Come on, Tom!” called Mr. Sharp. ”We'll make for the hut where you saw Morse.”

”I'll come too! I'll come too!” cried Mr. Damon, rus.h.i.+ng along as fast as he could, a seltzer bottle in either hand.

Tom's chief interest was to reach the men he suspected were the bank robbers. The lad dashed through the woods toward the hut near which he had seen Morse. He and Mr. Sharp reached it about the same time. As they came in front of it out dashed Happy Harry, the tramp. He was followed by Morse and the man named Featherton. The latter carried a black valise.

”Hey! Drop that!” shouted Mr. Sharp.

”Drop nothing!” yelled the man.

”Go on! Go on!” urged Morse. ”Take to the woods! We'll deal with these fellows!”

”Oh, you will, eh?” shouted Tom, and remembering his football days he made a dive between Morse and Happy Harry for the man with the bag, which he guessed contained the stolen money. The lad made a good tackle, and grabbed Featherton about the legs. He went down in a heap, with Tom on top. Our hero was feeling about for the valise, when he felt a stunning blow on the back of his head. He turned over quickly to see Morse in the act of delivering a second kick. Tom grew faint, and dimly saw the leader of the gang reach down for the valise.

This gave our hero sudden energy. He was not going to lose everything, when it was just within his grasp. Conquering, by a strong effort, his feeling of dizziness, he scrambled to his feet, and made a grab for Morse. The latter fended him off, but Tom came savagely back at him, all his fighting blood up. The effects of the cowardly blow were pa.s.sing off.