However, as chance willed it, he was instrumental in bringing the quest
to a close, and most unexpectedly. Peter Petrofsky was relieving his
brother at the telescope, when the odd man, who had not taken his eyes
from the field glasses, suddenly uttered an exclamation.
"Bless my tooth-brush!" he cried. "That's a most desolate place down
there. A lot of trees blown down around a lake that looks as black as
ink."
"What's that!" cried Ivan Petrofsky. "A lake as black as ink? Where?"
"We just passed it!" replied Mr. Damon.
"Then put back there, as soon as you can, Tom!" called the Russian. "I
want to look at that place."
With a long, graceful sweep the young inventor sent the glider back over
the course. Ivan Petrofsky glued his eyes to the telescope. He picked
out the spot Mr. Damon had referred to, and a moment later cried:
"That's it! That's near the lost platinum mine! We've found it again,
Tom--everybody! Don't you remember, Peter," he said turning to his
brother, "when we were lost in the snow we crawled in among a tangle of
trees to get out of the blast. There was a sheet of white snow near
them, and you broke through into water. I pulled you out. That must have
been a lake, though it was lightly frozen over then. I believe this is
the lost mine. Go down, Tom! Go down!"
"I certainly will!" cried the youth, and pulling on the descending lever
he shunted the glider to earth.
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