others went back to the hotel, promising to return early in the morning.
Tom slept heavily that night, much heavier than he was in the habit of doing. So did Ned, and their deep breathing as they lay in their staterooms, in the cabin of the airship, told of physical weariness, for they had worked hard to re-assemble the Red Cloud.
The watchman was seated in a chair just inside the big door of the shed, near a small stove in which was a fire to take off the chill of the big place. The guard had slept all day, and there was no excuse for him nodding in the way that he did.
"Queer, how drowsy I feel," he murmured several times. "It's only a little after midnight, too," he added, looking at his watch. "Guess I'll walk around a bit to rouse myself."
He firmly intended to do this, but he thought he would wait just a few minutes more, and he stretched out his legs and got comfortable in the chair.
Three minutes more and the watchman was asleep—sound asleep, while a strange, sweet, sickish odor seemed to fill the atmosphere about him.
There was a noise at the door of the shed, a door in which there were several cracks. A man
