Dave produced the signet ring. As before along the journey its magical effect was immediate.
“It is from Adrianoffski,” said the trader. “You are welcome. Enter, my son. The place is yours.”
Dave was sure that the man was Prevola, and he was just as certain that he could be trusted implicitly. He briefly spoke of his acquaintance with Mr. Adrianoffski and the claim he held upon his confidence and gratitude.
“I have a friend,” explained our hero, “who must be conveyed quickly and safely to the nearest railroad point in Russia. He must be taken out of Thibet speedily and secretly.”
“The order of my friend’s friend is law with me,” declared Prevola, gravely. “You but speak, I obey.”
“I will shortly return,” said Dave, and he went out to the biplane and approached it.
“I wish to have a talk with you,” he said to Morris Deane. “Help him out, Elmer.”
The rescued young man was assisted from the machine. Our hero linked his arm in Deane’s in a friendly, reassuring way. He led him to where a pile of wood lay and made him sit down beside him.
“Mr. Deane,” he said, gently, “you understand that we are friends sent to rescue, to save you?”
“I am just trying to comprehend it all,” was the reply, in a wavering tone of voice. “It seems incredible, astounding,” and the speaker passed his hand over his face in a vague manner.