“I won’t run over any of them!” said the other with a grim smile.
The machine was careening on over the uneven ground, but still the Gypsies in front did not budge. And then, when it seemed that the aluminum nose of the craft would push into their midst and the big wheels crush them, Tom suddenly pulled on a lever over his head as he stood at the steering wheel.
Instantly a white vapor was projected straight into the faces of the Yellow Gypsies. This seemed to knock them over as if a hail of bullets had hit them. They fell in heaps. Tom quickly turned the nose of the Air Monarch, and those now in its path scrambled to one side so that a lane was left for Tom to guide his craft down.
Though the windows of the cabin were all closed Ned caught a whiff of a powerful, pungent chemical.
“What is it, Tom?” he cried.
“Ammonia gas!” was the answer. “I rigged up two tubes, forward and aft, to project ammonia. I thought we might get in a tight corner some day, and it would help. We won’t get much of it inside here, but it’s strong out there!”
And strong it was, for the stuff, though it would have no lasting ill effects, actually knocked the victims down, rendering them helpless.
When those on either side saw what had happened to their comrades in front, the horde of Yellow Gypsies melted away like dew under the hot sun. Tom guided his craft past those who were knocked out, taking care not to run over any, and in a short time had run out of the forest clearing to a smooth, level road that led onward in the direction he wished to travel.
“Good work, Tom!” cried Ned, when they were safe for at least a time. “That ammonia gas was a wonderful idea!”
Peltok, opening a window at the rear of the ship, which was rapidly moving out of the zone of the powerful smell, called back to the discomfited Gypsies, some of whom were now reviving.