“It’s me,” panted Andy, running up to his employer and pointing at Tyrrell. “Mr. Parks, stop that man. He’s a traitor; he’s a villain!”
Tyrrell had heard and seen Andy. He gave a great start. Then he made a move as if to hasten aboard the airship and get out of his way. Mr. Morse and the Japanese hastened forward. The men guiding the aeroplane stared hard at the newcomer.
“Andy, what do you mean?” demanded Mr. Parks, lost in wonderment.
“Just what I say. Don’t let him get aboard.”
“Hold on, Tyrrell,” ordered the aeronaut.
“We’ll lose the start,” spoke Tyrrell hurriedly.
“Don’t you get aboard.”
“No, sah; yo’ just obey Mistah Parks, suh,” interposed Scipio, laying a great hindering hand on the arm of Tyrrell.
“I have been a prisoner in the Duske camp since yesterday,” explained Andy, catching his breath. “This man Tyrrell came there last night. He is in the employ of Duske.”
“What!” shouted Parks, his face growing dark.