Andy crossed a dark space. Lights were moving about the Duske camp, and these served as a guide. He neared the fence surrounding the camp, got over it, and cautiously approached the large tent which held the airship he had inspected on his first stealthy visit to the place.
Suddenly Andy tripped and fell. His foot had caught in a wire stretched taut under the grass. As he went headlong across the grass, a bell began to jingle, and he realized that the wire was one of many probably set to trap intruders. At all events, before he could get to his feet two men ran out of the tent.
One of these was Duske. The other was his companion of the evening when Andy had previously visited the place. They pounced on him promptly.
“Another spy,” spoke Duske, dragging the captive toward the tent.
“They’re getting thick,” observed his companion. “Those fellows at the big camp are mighty curious to pry into the secrets of our craft here. Hello! why, Duske, this is the same fellow we caught snooping around here three nights since.”
“Eh? Oh, it’s you again, is it?”
They had come inside the tent. The light burning there revealed Andy fully. Without letting go of him Duske scowlingly surveyed his captive.
“Say, Duske,” spoke the other man quickly, “it’s Parks’ boy, and he’s the one who won the pony prize.”
“Was that you?” demanded Duske; “are you Andy Nelson?”
“Suppose so?” queried Andy.