"Some wind that," murmured Ned, in rather awe-struck tones.
"That's so," agreed his chum. "But we'd better help Mr. Damon," for that
gentleman was slowly crawling back, not caring to trust himself on his
feet, for the wind had actually carried him down by its force.
"Bless my anemometer!" he gasped, when Tom and Ned had given him a hand
up. "What happened?"
"It was the great wind," explained Tom. "It blows only in a certain
zone, like a draft down a chimney. It is like a cyclone, only that goes
in a circle. This is a straight wind, but the path of it seems to be as
sharply marked as a trail through the forest. I guess we're here all
right. Does this location look familiar to you?" he asked of the Russian
brothers.
"I can't say that it does," answered Ivan. "But then it was winter when
we were here."
"And, another thing," put in Peter. "That wind zone is quite wide. The
mine may be in the middle, or near the other edge."
"That's so," agreed Tom. "We'll soon see what we can do. Come on, Ned,
let's get the air glider out and put her together. She'll have a test as
is a test, now."
I shall not describe the tedious work of re-assembling Tom Swift's
latest invention in the air craft line--his glider. Sufficient to say
that it was taken out from where it had been stored in separate pieces
on board the Falcon, and put together on the plain that marked the
beginning of the wind zone.
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