CHAPTER XI
THE ESCAPE
Nanette and I sat quiet. The figure of Josefa had disappeared from the corridor. Turber had gone out hastily with a command to Nanette and me.
"Don't move. Stay in your chairs."
We were alone in the control room, except for the Indian, Bluntnose. He had ignored us throughout the trip, but he was not ignoring us now. He stood a few feet away, like a statue in the gloom, watching us closely. A tomahawk was hung at his belt; a modern automatic revolver was in his hand.
The aero, inside and out, was in confusion. The tramp of feet; a babble of voices. Through the windows I could see a dark forest glade with the yellow light of a camp fire near by. And the glint of a starlit river, with a shadowy cove quite near us.
I whispered: "The Indian is watching us, Nanette—we mustn't move."
Turber presently came in. A short sword was strapped to his belt; and a revolver in a holster.
"Good news," he said. "It's coming! They're bringing it by water from up the river."
The Indian grunted.