The Russian, disguising himself by trimming his beard, and putting on a pair of dark spectacles, went to the village that afternoon.
While he was gone Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon busied themselves about the airship, making a few repairs that could not very well be done while it was in motion. As night came on, and the exile did not return, Tom began to get a little worried, and he had some notion of going to seek him, but he knew it would not be safe.
"He'll come all right," declared Ned, as they sat down to supper. All about them was an almost impenetrable forest, cut here and there by paths along which, as Mr. Petrofsky had told them, the wood cutters drove their wagons.
It was quite a surprise therefor, when, as they were leaving the table, a knock was heard on the cabin door.
"Bless my electric bell!" cried Mr. Damon. "Who can that be?"
"Mr. Petrofsky of course," answered Ned.
"He wouldn't knock—he'd walk right in," spoke Tom, as he went to the door. As he opened it he saw several dark-bearded men standing there, and in their midst Mr. Petrofsky.
For one moment our hero feared that his friend had been arrested and that the police had
