"Yes, I think Ned is in one of them," said Tom. "The big one most likely. Poor Ned a prisoner! Well, I'll soon have him away from them--if nothing happens," and Tom looked about the motor room, to make sure that every piece of apparatus was working perfectly.
The two airships of the smugglers were hanging close together, and it was evident that the larger one had to make her pace slow, so as not to get ahead of the small craft. Tom followed on relentlessly, not using half his speed, but creeping on silently in the darkness.
"We're over the United States now," said Mr. Whitford, after a glance earthward through the binoculars. "Let 'em get a little farther over the line before you pop 'em with your electric rifle, Tom."
Our hero nodded, and looked out of a side window to note the progress of the smugglers. For several miles the chase was thus kept up, and then, suddenly the smaller craft was seen to swerve to one side.
"They are separating!" cried Mr. Whitford, at the same time Mr. Damon called through the tube from the pilot house:
"Which one shall I follow, Tom?"
"The big one," the youth answered. "I'll take care of the other!" With a quick motion he flashed the current into the great searchlight, and, calling to Mr. Whitford to hold it so that the beams played on the small aeroplane, Tom leveled his wonderful electric rifle at the big stretch of canvas. He pressed the lever, a streak of blue flame shot out through an opened port, and, an instant later, the small craft of the smugglers was seen to stagger about, dipping to one side.
"There they come!" cried Mr. Whitford. "They're done for!"
"One shot more," said Tom grimly. "It won't hurt 'em!"
Again the deadly electric rifle sent out its wireless charge, and the airship slowly fluttered toward the earth.