Not a moving figure was to be seen. The one light of the Louise burned dimly and appeared to be cloaked with a covering which did not quite perform its duty.
“It’s all right!” Jimmie shouted to his companion. “We’ll land close to the Louise, and you jump down the first thing and see if she’s fit to run. If she is, you climb aboard and push the starter. If she isn’t, you jump back into your seat and I’ll duck away.”
The next minute the wheels of the flying machine were rolling over the rough surface of the summit. Kit sprang out as directed, but Jimmie retained his seat. The instant the boy struck the ground a sharp cry of terror reached Jimmie’s ears, and he also prepared for a spring.
His idea was that his chum had been seized by some one lying in wait beside the machine, and that his assistance would enable the boy to get back into his seat without injury.
However, before Jimmie could execute his purpose, a rope was thrown over his head and shoulders from behind, and he was dragged from the machine. Then, as if in a daze, he saw gathered about him three figures that he knew.
Phillips, Mendoza and the blond aviator were gazing down upon him with triumph in their faces! Behind them stood two slighter men, resembling Japanese, and behind them, in turn, quite a collection of Chinamen.
“Brought my machine back, did you?” asked the blond man.
“Yes,” replied Jimmie struggling with the rope that held his arms to his sides. “I thought you might need it.”
“That’s nice!” smiled the aviator.
“And so you are the boys who left New York to capture Phillips and myself are you?” demanded Mendoza thrusting a savage face toward Jimmie.