“Him got permit for you. Now you can go—for a little more gold!” and his eyes gleamed greedily.
“I guess it’s worth the money,” commented Tom, as he handed over the remaining five dollar gold pieces, “if it’s only to get the best of that skunk Kilborn.”
Some orders were shouted to the soldiers, they in turn yelled at the rabble, and Tom and Ned were allowed to walk out as they pleased. They lost no time in hastening back to their craft, where they found that the work of taking on the oil, gas, and other supplies had been completed.
Peltok was pacing about, looking anxiously up and down. At the sight of the two young men, who were followed by a crowd of boys, he said:
“I was afraid something had happened. That Kilborn was sneaking around here, looking as tickled as a cat with cream on her whiskers.”
“Something did happen,” explained Tom. “And that Kilborn won’t be so pleased the next time he calls.”
“Here he is now,” said Ned in a low voice as the pilot of the Red Arrow was observed pushing his way through the crowd. His craft could be seen off in the distance down in a little hollow. He, too, it appeared, had landed for supplies.
At the sight of Tom and Ned about to enter the cabin of the Air Monarch, the face of the rascal underwent a change. He started back as Tom mockingly remarked:
“Well, you’re following us pretty close, Mr. Kilborn. How much did you have to pay for your landing permit?”
“I didn’t pay—I don’t know anything about it!” snapped the man, his face almost as red as his machine. “I can’t help it if my route parallels yours. The air is free.”