“I thought so!” murmured Jerry. The Comet lurched to one side, and settled more and more.
“Shut off the motor, Ned!” cried the tall lad. “We’ve got to go down!”
They descended gently, in a comparatively level place, and as Jerry could tell that there were several punctures in the gas bag, he turned off the supply of vapor, and set the pump going that forced it back into the steel container, where it was compressed. The big bag collapsed into its frame.
They had come down on top of the cliffs surrounding the valley, and, hardly had they settled than a crowd of horsemen rode up, surrounding them. Jerry saw that one or two wore the uniform of the Canadian mounted police, and, to his surprise, in the throng were Noddy Nixon and Bill Berry, and the man with the scar whom the tall lad had seen in the railroad station.
“What does this mean?” yelled Jim Nestor, angrily. “Why have you shot at us?”
“To stop you,” replied one of the police. “We are sorry, but it was the only way. We had to stop you.”
“What for?”
“Because you are taking over the Border gold secured in the Dominion of Canada, in violation of the international law. You must give up that gold. It belongs to the Crown.”
“It does not! It belongs to me!” yelled Harvey Brill.
“Our information is to the contrary,” spoke the leader of the police. “We regret that we had to fire on your balloon, and are sorry if we damaged it much. But in a case like this, involving international complications, it was the only thing to do. We had to stop you before you got over the Border.”