In a few moments Tom's silent airship came to rest on a little clearing in the forest, and Tom, with Ned's help, at once opened every outlet of the gas machine, a thing they had not dared do while up in the air.
"Come on, now, run, everybody!" cried Tom. "Otherwise you'll be smothered!"
They leaped from the craft, about which gathered the fumes of the powerful gas, as it hissed from the pipes. Running a hundred yards away they were safe, and could return in a few minutes.
"We're in Canada," remarked Mr. Whitford, as they came to a halt, watching the airship.
"How do you know?" asked Ned.
"As we landed I saw one of the stone boundary posts," was the answer. "We're on English territory, and we can't touch the smugglers if we should see them now."
"Well, we'll soon be back in Uncle Sam's land," declared Tom. "We can go back on board the Falcon to sleep shortly. Jove! I wish I could have caught those fellows!"
"Never mind, we'll get 'em yet," counseled Mr. Whitford.
Waiting until he was sure all the vapor had disappeared, Tom led the way back to the Falcon. No great harm had been done, save to lose considerable gas, and this could be remedied. Tired and disappointed from the chase, they sought their bunks, and were soon asleep. In the morning Tom and Ned began work on the clogged pipes.
This work was nearly accomplished by noon, when Mr. Damon, coming back from a stroll, announced that they were but fifteen minutes walk from the St. Lawrence River, as he had seen the sparkling waters from a neighboring hill.