ing from the window, he saw approaching a troop of Cossacks, in the midst of whom rode a man in a brilliant uniform evidently the governor.
"Stop! Stop!" cried the official.
"Here we go, Ned!" yelled Tom, and turning on more power the Falcon arose swiftly, before the very eyes of the angry governor, and his staff of Cossack soldiers.
Up and up she went, faster and faster, the motors working well on the kerosene. Higher and higher. The governor and his soldiers were directly below her now.
"Stopl Stop! You must stop. The Imperial governor orders it!" yelled the officer, evidently his Excellency's aide-de-camp.
"We can't hear you!" shouted Tom, waving his hand from the motor room window, and then, turning on still more power he flew over the city, taking his friends and the valuable supply of platinum with him. So surprised were the soldiers that they did not fire a shot, but had they done so it is doubtful if much damage could have been done.
"And now for home!" cried Tom, and homeward bound the Falcon was after a perilous trip through two storms. But she weathered them well.
