"Yes, that looks like a line of prisoners," remarked Ned, who was peering through a pair of night glasses.
"Where?" asked Tom eagerly, and they were pointed out to him. He took an observation, and exclaimed:
"There they are, sure enough. Now if your brother is only among them, Mr. Petrofsky, we'll soon have him on board."
"Heaven grant that he may be there!" said the exile in a low voice.
A moment later, the Falcon, meanwhile having been allowed to drift as close as possible to the dimly-seen line of prisoners, Tom set in motion the great motor, the propeller blades beating the air fiercely.
At the sound there was a shout on the ground below, but before the excitement had time to spread, or before any of the guards could form a notion of what was about to take place, Tom had sent his craft to earth on a sharp slant, closer to the line of prisoners than he had dared to hope.
Mr. Petrofsky sprang out on deck, and in a loud voice called in Russian:
"Peter! Peter! If you are there, come here! Come quickly! It is I, your brother Ivan who speaks. I have come to save you—save you in the wonderful airship of Tom Swift! Come
