"Bless my burglar alarm!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "It's an awful disgrace!
If my wife ever heard of me being in jail--"
"She may never hear of it!" interposed Tom.
"Bless my heart!" cried the odd man. "Don't say such things."
They discussed their plight at length, but nothing could be done, and
they settled themselves to uneasy slumber. For two days they were thus
imprisoned, and all of Mr. Petrofsky's demands that they be given a fair
trial, and allowed to know the nature of the charge against them, went
for naught. No one came to see them but a villainous looking guard, who
brought them their poor meals. The governor ignored them, and Mr.
Petrofsky did not know what to think.
"Well, I'm getting sick of this!" exclaimed Tom--I wish I knew where my
airship was."
"I fancy it's in the same place," replied the exile. "From the way the
governor acted I think he'd be afraid to have it moved. It might be
damaged. If I could only get word to some of my Revolutionary friends it
might do some good, but I guess I can't. We'll just have to wait."
Another day passed, and nothing happened. But that night, when the guard
came to bring their suppers, something did occur.
"Hello! we've got a new one!" exclaimed Tom, as he noted the man. "Not
so bad looking, either."
The man peered into his cell, and said something in Russian.
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