“But if I could only be there myself!” cried the exile, with inspiration, “I would surely succeed.”
“You shall go there!” declared Frank. “I give you my word for it.”
But at that moment the exile gave a sharp, gasping cry and retreated to the side of the airship.
“My God!” he gasped. “St. Nicholas defend me! There are the human hounds that seek my life!”
He pointed to the west, where the plateau merged into the plain. The voyagers beheld a thrilling sight.
A body of mounted men were approaching at full gallop. They rode fleet Kighis ponies and were dressed in the uniform of the Siberian police.
For a moment the voyagers stood watching the horsemen.
Then the words of the exile aroused Frank Reade, Jr., to action.
“For the love of God, do not deliver me up to my enemies!” the Russian cried. “I will be your slave if you will save me!”
“I don’t know whether they can make an international affair out of this or not!” cried Frank. “I don’t want to create war between this barbarous country and America, but by my soul I shall not allow them to take this man away! Barney, go into the pilot-house!”