At this juncture the girl turned and hastily whispered to a tall, rawboned man who had just climbed out of one of the capturing air-ships. He instantly broke through the ranks and came forward.
“Back, Jackson,” he cried to the man with the knife; “quit now!”
“He hit me,” replied the man, with a savage growl, “and I’m going to rip him up. Out o’ the way, Cap’n.”
“It looks as if two could play at that game,” replied the man addressed as Captain, with a grin. “Back, I say. This man is a prisoner and goes before the Colonel.”
With some hesitancy the man sheathed his knife and slunk back among his fellows.
“Follow me!” said the Captain to Mortimer; “and you, too,” he added, nodding to the Professor.
The latter clambered over the side of the air-ship.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“But I don’t know whether I am,” cried Mortimer, still standing sword in hand. “Who are you? A military organization, or a band of outlaws? I hear you speak of captains and colonels! And by what authority do you talk of prisoners?”
“I can’t answer your questions,” replied the other, civilly enough; “but if you follow me, you’ll perhaps learn all you want to know.”