"Well, I'm getting sick of this!" exclaimed Tom. I wish I knew where my airship was."
"I fancy it's in the same place," replied the exile. "From the way the governor acted I think he'd be afraid to have it moved. It might be damaged. If I could only get word to some of my Revolutionary friends it might do some good but I guess I can't. We'll just have to wait."
Another day passed, and nothing happened. But that night, when the guard came to bring their suppers, something did occur.
"Hello! we've got a new one!" exclaimed Tom as he noted the man. "Not so bad looking, either."
The man peered into his cell, and said something in Russian.
"Nothing doing," remarked the young inventor with a short laugh. "Nixy on that jabbering."
But, no sooner had the man's words penetrated to the cell of Ivan Petrofsky, that the exile called out something. The guard started, hastened to that cell door, and for a few seconds there was an excited dialogue in Russian.
"Boys! Mr. Damon! We're saved!" suddenly cried out Mr. Petrofsky.
"Bless my door knob! You don't say so," gasped the odd man. "How? Has the Czar sent orders to release us."
"No, but somehow my Revolutionary friends
