Guess I'll fire in the air again."
He did, and the guards halted. They seemed to be holding a consultation,
as Tom learned by glancing hastily back, and he caught the glisten of
some weapon. But if the three men had any notion of firing they gave it
up, and once more came on running. Doubtless they had orders to get
their prisoner back to Russia alive, and did not want to 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 none of
the men was a good runner, and Mr. Petrofsky, by reason of being rather
heavily built, was worse than the other two, so they had to accommodate
their pace to his.
"I wonder if we can make it," mused Tom, as he realized that the airship
was a good distance off yet the guards, though quite a way in the 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 little nearer."
It was indeed a race now, for the guards, seeming to know that they
would not be shot at, were coming on more confidently, and were rapidly
lessening 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.
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