It seemed to him that he had already gone through so much that his life was charmed. At least, he never felt less fear than he did at the present time.
The sharp gale continued. The Zeppelin had risen much higher, but it could not get above the wind-storm. Although it may have been steering to a nicety, he was sure that the huge craft was drifting off her course to a considerable degree.
After a couple of hours the commander of the Zeppelin came back from the pilot-house. He saw Tom’s face pressed close to the window and waved his hand.
When he entered the cabin Tom slipped back to the door and opened it a narrow crack. The ober-leutnant went right through the cabin and disappeared.
Was the time ripe for Tom to carry out the scheme which had been slowly forming in his mind? Was the moment propitious?
The young American hesitated. It meant peril—perhaps death—for him, whether he succeeded or failed. He knew that well enough. Such an attempt as he purposed might only be bred of desperation.
He tore off the helmet and goggles which had masked him. He rolled the blanket and laid it along the bench as his own body had lain. On to the end of the roll next the window he pulled the helmet and arranged the goggles so that a glance through the window would show a man lying apparently asleep on the cushioned bench.
Then he tied a handkerchief of khaki color over his head and prepared to steal out of the closet, his pistol in his hand.
CHAPTER XXI—THE WRECK
Youth is fain to be reckless, but there was no lack of reasoning behind Tom Cameron’s intention.