Oliphant sat with his knees up, looking at his friend, thinking what a cool hand he was. No one could have guessed from Tom’s easy attitude that he was thinking out a problem on which lives depended. As the minutes passed, even Oliphant was deceived.
“Not asleep, Dorrell?”
Tom grunted, but did not stir. Another minute or two, then he suddenly jumped up.
“Well, I think I’ve got it,” he said, and he chuckled.
“What is it?”
“Come along. I’ll explain as we go.”
The two mounted the car; Tom started the ascensional screws; and the airship rose slowly from the hill. When they had left the ground some three hundred feet beneath them they saw, a mile or more distant, the body of horsemen who had set off in pursuit from the Moors’ encampment. The airship was headed in the direction from which they had come, and when they saw it they halted, and waited until it had soared past them; then, having no doubt that it was returning to the hill with the intention of again attempting to rescue the blockaded men, they wheeled round, and galloped in pursuit.
The airship was going at only a moderate speed, so that the horsemen were able to keep pace with it. Tom chuckled again, and Oliphant, to whom he had by this time imparted his notion, seemed to find great amusement in the sight.
“The beggars little imagine they’re playing our game,” he said.
“No, indeed. I wonder what they really are thinking. Probably they fancy something has gone wrong with our works and we can’t go any faster.”