"Now then," called Ferral, "straighten her out."
The nose of the air ship immediately swung upward, and she glided in between the trees. Matt cut off the power, and Carl jumped out on one side and Ferral on the other, each with a rope.
The trees stood about forty feet apart, with cleared ground in between, and the propeller had hardly come to a standstill before Carl and Ferral had the mooring ropes securely fastened to the tree trunks.
Matt leaped over the rail and began looking about him through the semi-gloom.
"There's some one bearing this way from the direction of the railroad track," said Ferral, in a low tone. "He's coming in a hurry, too."
Matt turned his eyes in the direction of Ferral's pointing finger. A dark figure could be seen rapidly approaching. As the man drew nearer, the starlight struck a vague flash from buttons on the front of his coat.
"Looks like a man in uniform," remarked Matt, stepping out from under the shadow of the trees. "Hello!" he cried. "Is that you, Glennie?"
"That's who it is, King," came a husky answer. "Glad you got that letter in time to get here to-night. If you hadn't come before to-morrow night it might have been too late."
"Sink me!" muttered Ferral. "Seems like I'd heard that voice before."
"Me, too," seconded Carl; "dere vas some familiar rings mit it."