“I am the Count Eric Beausire,” came the pleasant-toned response, “but, greater than so, an aviator, as you are, gentlemen,” and he looked up and down the garb of the visitors.
“Yes,” responded Ben, “we have just made a long distance flight on our monoplane, the Dart.”
“I greet you as brothers,” cried the count with a glad gracious wave of his hand. “Ah, it is a pleasure profound after weeks of confinement. Can I be released?”
“We shall see to that at once,” declared Ben, and he and Bob made immediate inspection of the chain that held the count a captive. It was fortunate that they had some of the tools used in the monoplane in the bag which Bob still carried. With even this help and all Ben’s mechanical skill it took them nearly two hours to get the count free.
The rescued man urged haste as they paddled over to the mainland. They found the Indian cowering and uneasy, and immensely relieved at their safe return. Several allusions had been made to the wrecked Meteor.
“I must see my beloved child of the air once more—a sad farewell,” declared the count.
The boys led him to the swale brake. The nobleman looked over the scattered ruins of the monoplane. He selected a small piece of one of the planes, lifted his cap reverently, pressed his lips to the little piece of wood, and placed it inside his breast as a cherished memento.
“Vandals!” he exclaimed, taking a last look at the wrecked airship and then shaking a clenched fist towards the island.
The party now took up the march for the settlement, much to the satisfaction of their Indian guide.
“I assume that the Meteor arrived in good condition here originally,” began Ben, interested in learning the story of the refugee who was now their companion.