Petrofsky. Below and a little ahead of them
could been seen a cluster of lights.
"Yes, that looks like a line of prisoners," remarked Ned, who was
peering through a pair of night glasses.
"Where?" asked Tom eagerly, and they were pointed out to him. He took an
observation, and exclaimed:
"There they are, sure enough. Now if your brother is only among them,
Mr. Petrofsky, we'll soon have him on board."
"Heaven grant that he may be there!" said the exile in a low voice.
A moment later, the Falcon, meanwhile having been allowed to drift as
close as possible to the dimly-seen line of prisoners, Tom set in motion
the great motor, the propeller blades heating the air fiercely.
At the sound there was a shout on the ground below, but before the
excitement had time to spread, or before any of the guards could form a
notion of what was about to take place, Tom had sent his craft to earth
on a sharp slant, closer to the line of prisoners than he had dared to
hope.
Mr. Petrofsky sprang out on deck, and in a loud voice called in Russian:
"Peter! Peter! If you are there, come here! Come quickly! It is I, your
brother Ivan who speaks. I have come to save you--save you in the
wonderful airship of Tom Swift! Come quickly and we will take you away!
Peter Petrofsky!"
For a moment there was silence, and then the sound of some one running
rapidly was borne to the ears of the waiting ones.
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