"Him try to fix powder. Ah, I fix you!" and with a savage snarl the giant, in the concrete chamber below, could be heard to attack someone who cried out gutturally in German:
"Help! Help! Help!"
"Come on, Ned!" cried Tom, making a dash for the stairs that led into the magazine. There was confusion all about, but through it all the wireless operator continued to write down the message coming to him through space.
"What is it, Koku? What is it?" cried Tom, plunging down into the little chamber.
As he reached it, a door leading to the outer air flew open, and out rushed a man, badly torn as to his clothes, and scratched and bleeding as to his face. On he ran, across the space back of the barbette, toward the lower tier of seats that had been erected for the spectators.
"It's von Brunderger's servant!" gasped Ned, recognizing the fellow.
"What did he do, Koku?" demanded the young inventor.
"Him sneak in here—have some of that stuff you call 'dope.' I sent up powder, and I come back here to see him try to put some dope in Master's ammunition."
"The scoundrel!" cried Tom. "They're trying
