“But where did you get these gas bombs?” asked Mr. Hampton, recovering from his surprise, and beginning to show the relief he experienced as the possibility of effecting Bob’s rescue again grew bright.
“Hooked ’em from the Spaniards,” said Stone, unashamedly. “I had a run-in with my commander over the justice of his cause, and as I had to leave without my pay, I took along the bombs and an extra supply of gas to compensate. Loaded the drums of gas in the old buss. The plane’s mine, you know. Bought it in France at an auction of surplus war supplies, but that’s another story.”
The eyes of Jack and Frank sparkled.
“Come on, let’s go,” shouted the latter, leaping to his feet.
“Hurray,” yelled Jack. “We’re on our way.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Roy Stone. “It’s only a sixty-mile flight to Athensi, and we’ll be there in less than an hour. We have got to wait, and to time our departure so as to arrive at the hour of exercise this afternoon. Even then our friends here”—indicating the young Athensians—“may have guessed wrong as to the time of exercising the alien gladiators, and then we’d be up the spout.”
Jepthah shook his head in negation.
“Procedure in Athensi never changes,” he said. “Two hours after midday the alien gladiators are taken into the arena for exercise and training. It has always been so.”
“Good,” said Stone, “then we start at half past one to the dot. Now to settle who goes. One of you boys will have to go to fly the plane. I’m the only one who can drop the gas bombs, so that lets me out of the flying. And one of the Athensians will have to go as guide. Amrath wants the job, and, as I can parlez vous francais and so can understand him, that’s all right. Now which of you two fellows takes the stick?”
“Frank,” said Jack instantly.