[CHAPTER III]
ON A MYSTERIOUS TRAIL
It was the work of only a few seconds for the active lads to get poor Sud from under the cot, and cut the ropes that bound him. Then the bag was taken from his head, and it was discovered that he was gagged. The smell of chloroform was more strong and Jerry, applying to his nose the rag that had served to stifle the voice of the watchman, detected on it the odor of the drug.
“This is desperate business,” remarked Ned soberly.
“Indeed it is,” asserted Jerry. “If Noddy Nixon has had a hand in this I’ll prosecute him for it. He’s going too far. This is the worst of his many tricks.”
“Do you think Sud will die?” inquired Andy, hovering about anxiously, moving here and there, like a restless bird. “Is he dead now? I can’t hear him breathe.”
“Oh, he’ll be all right as soon as we get him into the fresh air,” declared Jerry. “Bob, bring me the aromatic ammonia. I’ll give him a few drops, and then we’ll carry him outside.”
The boys, from long experience in traveling and camping, knew something about simple remedies, and soon a restorative was being forced through Sud’s lips. Then he was carried outside the shed, and his collar loosened. In a few minutes he opened his eyes, and stared wonderingly about him.
“Don’t—don’t hit me again!” he implored. “I ain’t never done nothin’ to you, Mr. Nixon—but I can’t let you take the airship without——” then the unfortunate man stopped, as he saw friendly faces about him.