"Bless my safety valve!" cried Mr. Damon. "Something has gone wrong
again."
Tom ran to the motor, and, at the same time the Falcon which was being
used as an aeroplane and not as a dirigible, began to sink.
"We're going down!" cried Ned.
"Well, you know what to do!" shouted his chum. "The gas bag! Turn on the
generator!"
Ned ran to it, but, in spite of his quick action, the craft continued to
slide downward.
"She won't work !" he cried.
"Then the intake pipe must be stopped!" answered the young inventor.
"Never mind, I'll volplane to earth and we can make repairs. That
magneto has gone out of business again."
"Don't land here!" cried Ivan Petrofsky.
"Why not?"
"Because we are approaching a large town--Owbinsk I think it is-the
police there will be there to get us. Keep on to the forest again!"
"I can't!" cried Tom. "We've got to go down, police or no police."
Running to the pilot house, he guided the craft so that it would safely
volplane to earth. They could all see that now they were approaching a
fairly large town, and would probably land on its outskirts. Through the
glass Ned could make out people staring up at the strange sight.
"They'll be ready to receive us," he announced grimly.
"I hope they have no dynamite bombs for us," murmured Mr. Damon.
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