"Why not?"
"Because we are approaching a large town—Owbinsk I think it is—the police there will be sure to get us. Keep on to the forest again!"
"I can't!" cried Tom. "We've got to go down, police or no police."
Running to the pilot house, he guided the craft so that it would safely volplane to earth. They could all see that now they were approaching a fairly large town, and would probably land on its outskirts. Through the glass Ned could make out people staring up at the strange sight.
"They'll be ready to receive us," he announced grimly.
"I hope they have no dynamite bombs for us," murmured Mr. Damon. "Bless my watch chain! I must get rid of that Nihilist literature I have about me, or they'll take me for one," and he tore up the tracts, and scattered them in the air.
Meanwhile the Falcon continued to descend.
"Maybe I can make quick repairs, and get away before they realize who we are," said Tom, as he got ready for the landing.
They came down in a big field, and, almost before the bicycle wheels had ceased revolving, under the application of the brakes, several men came running toward them.
"Here they come!" cried Mr. Damon.
