“No, not here,” said the elder Petrofsky. “But we still have to go back across Siberia to escape.”
“We’ll do it!” cried Tom. “Now for the platinum treasure!”
They went forward, and it was no easy work. For the wind still blew with tremendous force though nothing like what it did higher up. And the ground was uneven. They had to cling to each other and it was very evident that no airship, not even the powerful Falcon, could have reached the place. Only an air glider would answer.
It took them half an hour to get to the opening of the ancient mine, and by that time it was nearly dark. But Tom had thought to bring electric torches, such as he had used in the underground city of gold, and they dispelled the gloom of the small cavern.
“Will you go in?” asked Ivan Petrofsky, when they had come to the place. He looked at Tom.
“Go in? Of course I’ll go in!” cried our hero, stepping forward. The others followed. For some time they went on, and saw no traces of the precious metal. Then Ned uttered a cry, as he saw some dull, grayish particles imbedded in the earth walls of the shaft.
“Look!” he cried.
Tom was at his chum’s side in a moment
“That’s platinum!” cried the young inventor. “And of the very highest grade! But the lumps are very small.”
“There are larger ones beyond,” said the younger Russian brother.
Forward they pressed, and a moment later coming around a turn in the cavern where some earth had fallen away, evidently recently, Tom could not repress a cry of joy. For there, in plain sight, were many large lumps of the valuable metal, in as pure a state as it is ever found. For it is always mixed with other metals or chemicals.
“Look at that!” cried Tom. “Look at that! Lumps as large as an egg!” and he dug some out with a small pick he had brought along, and stuffed them into his pocket.
“Bless my check book!” cried Mr. Damon, “and that stuff is as valuable as gold!”
“More so!” cried Tom enthusiastically.
“Oh, here’s a whopping big one!” cried Ned. “I’ll bet it weighs ten pounds.”
“More than that!” cried Tom, as he ran over and began digging it out, and they found later that it did. Platinum is usually found in small granules, but there are records of chunks being found weighing twenty pounds while others, the size of pigeons’ eggs, are not uncommon.
“Say, this is great!” yelled Ned, discovering another large piece, and digging it out.
“I am glad we could lead you to it,” said the elder Russian brother. “It is a small return for what you did for us!”
“Nonsense!” cried Tom. “These must be a king’s ransom here. Everybody dig it out! Get all you can.”
They were all busy, but the light of the two torches Tom had brought was not sufficient for good and efficient work, so after getting several thousand dollars worth of the precious metal, they decided to postpone operations until morning, and come with more lights.
They were at the work soon after breakfast, the night in the air glider having passed without incident. The treasure of platinum proved even richer than the Russians had thought, and it was no wonder the Imperial government had tried so hard to locate it, or get on the trail of those who sought it.
“And it’s all good stuff!” cried Tom eagerly. “Not like that low-grade gold of the underground city. I can make my own terms when I sell this.”
For three days our friends dug and dug in that platinum mine, so many years lost to man, and when they got ready to leave they had indeed a king’s ransom with them. But it was to be equally divided. Tom insisted on this, as his Russian friends had been instrumental in finding it. Toward the end of the excavation large pieces were scarce, and it was evident that the mine was what is called a “lode.”
“Well, shall we go back now?” asked Tom one day, after the finish of their mining operations. The work was comparatively simple, as the platinum lumps had merely to be dug out of the sides of the cave. But the loneliness and dreariness of the place was telling on them all.
“Can’t we carry any more?” asked Ned.
“We could, but it might not be safe. I don’t want to take on too much weight, as my glider isn’t as stable as the airship. But we have plenty of the metal.
“Indeed we have,” agreed Ivan Petrofsky. “Much of mine and my brother’s will go toward helping relieve the sufferings of the Siberian exiles,” he added.
“And mine, too,” said Alexis Borious.
They started back early the next morning in a more terrific gale than in any the glider had yet flown. But she proved herself a stanch craft, and soon they were at the place where they had left the airship. It was undisturbed.
Four days were spent in taking apart the glider and packing it on board the Falcon. Then, with the platinum safely stored away Tom, with a last look at the desolate land that had been so kind to them, sent his craft on her homeward way.
It was when they were near the city of Pirtchina, on the Obi river, that what might have proved a disastrous accident occurred. They were flying along high, and at great speed, for Tom wanted to make all the distance he could, to get out of Siberia the more quickly. They had had a fair passage so far, and were congratulating themselves that they would soon be in civilization again.
Suddenly, Mr. Damon, who had been on the after deck, taking observations through a telescope, came running forward, crying out:
“Tom! Tom! What is that water dripping from the back part of the airship?”
“Water?” exclaimed Tom. “No water is dripping from there.”
“Come and look,” advised Mr. Damon.
The young inventor raced back with him. He saw a thin, white stream trickling down from the lower part of the craft. Tom sniffed the air suspiciously.
“Gasolene! It’s gasolene!” he cried. “We must have a leak in the supply tanks!”
He dashed toward the reserve storeroom, and at that moment, with a suddenness that was startling, the motor stopped and the Falcon lurched toward the earth.
CHAPTER XXV
HOMEWARD BOUND—CONCLUSION
“All right!” yelled Ned, as soon as he heard Tom’s cry. “I’ve got her under control. We’ll volplane down.”
“Is it dangerous? Are we in danger?” asked Peter Petrofsky of his brother, in Russian.
“I guess there’s no danger, where Tom Swift’s concerned,” was the answer. “I have not volplaned much, but it will be all right I think.”
And it was, for with Ned Newton to guide the craft, while Tom did his best to stop the leak, the craft came gently to earth on the outskirts of a fairly large Siberian city. Almost instantly the Falcon was surrounded by a curious throng.
“You had better keep inside,” said Ivan Petrofsky to his brother and Mr. Borious. “Descriptions of you are probably out broadcast by now, but I am still sufficiently disguised, I think.”
“But what is to be done?” demanded the younger Russian brother. “If the gasolene is gone, how can we leave here?”
“Trust Tom Swift for that,” was the reply. “Keep out of sight now, there is a large crowd outside.”
Tom came from the tank room. There was a despondent look on his face.
“It’s all gone—every drop,” he said. “That’s what made the motor stop.”
“What’s gone?” asked Mr. Damon.
“The gasolene. We sprung a leak in the main tank, somehow, and it all flowed out while we were flying along.”
“Haven’t you any more?”
“Not a bit. I was drawing on the reserve tank, hoping to get to civilization before I needed more. But its too late now. We will have to—”
“Bless my snow shoes!” cried Mr. Damon. “Don’t say we’ll have to stay here—in Siberia! Don’t say that. My wife—”
“No, we won’t have to stay here if we can get a supply of kerosene,” interrupted Tom. “The motor will burn that. The only trouble is that we may be detained. The authorities probably know
us by this time, and are on the watch.”
“Then get it before they know we are here,” advised Ned.
“I’ll try,” said Tom, and he at once conferred with the elder Petrofsky. The latter said he was sure kerosene could be had in town, and, rather than risk going in themselves, they hired a wagoner who agreed, for liberal pay, to go and return with a quantity. Until then there was nothing to do but wait.
Meanwhile the crowd of curiosity seekers grew. They thronged around the airship, some of them meddling with various devices, until Tom had to order them away with gestures.
One particularly inquisitive man insisted on pulling or twisting everything, until he happened to touch a couple of live wires, giving himself quite a shock, and then he ran away howling. But still the crowd increased, and at last Mr. Petrofsky said:
“I don’t like this, Tom?”
“Why not?” They were all inside the craft, looking out and waiting for the return of the man with the kerosene. The leak in the tank had proved to be a small one, and had quickly been soldered. It had been open a long time, which accounted for the large amount of gasolene escaping. “What don’t you like, Mr. Petrofsky?”
“So many men surrounding us. I believe some of them are officers dressed in civilians’ clothes, and a Russian officer never does that unless he has some object.”
“And you think the object is—?”
“To capture us.”
“If it was that, wouldn’t they have done it long ago—when we first came down?”
“No, they are evidently waiting for something perhaps for some high official, without whose orders they dare do nothing. Russia is overrun with officialdom.”
And a little later Ivan Petrofsky’s suspicion proved true. There arrived a man in uniform, who spoke fairly good English, and who politely asked Tom if he would not delay the start of the airship, again, until the governor could arrive from his country place to see it.
“We know you are going to leave us,” said the Russian with a smile, “for you have sent for kerosene. But please wait.”
“If your governor comes soon we’ll wait,” replied Tom. “But we are in a hurry. I wish that kerosene fellow would get a move on,” he murmured.
“Oh, he will doubtless be here soon,” said the officer. “Might I be permitted to come aboard and wait for my chief?”
“Sorry, but it’s not allowed,” replied our hero, straining his eyes down the road for a sight of the wagoner. At last he came, and Tom breathed easier.
But the crowd was bigger, and some of the men, though poorly dressed, seemed to be persons in authority. Tom had no doubt but what there was a plot afoot to detain him, and arrest the exiles, and that there were disguised soldiers in the throng. But they could not act without the governor’s orders, and he was probably on his way with all haste.
“Lively now, get that kerosene in the tanks!” cried Tom to the man, motioning in lieu of using Russian. The youth was not going to meet the governor if he could help it.
Now it was a curious thing, but the more that wagoner and his helpers seemed to try to hurry, and pour the oil from the cans into the tank-opening of the airship, the slower they worked. They got in each others’ way, dropped some cans, spilled others, and in general made such poor work at it that Tom saw there was something in the wind.
“Ned!” he exclaimed, “they’re doing all they can to detain us. We’ve got to put that oil in ourselves. Just as we did the gasolene in France. It’s the same sort of a delay game.”
“Right, Tom! I’m with you.”
“And I’ll warn the crowd back, by telling them we are likely to blow up any minute!” added Ivan Petrofsky, which warning he shouted in Russian a moment later.
Backward leaped the throng, as though a bomb bad been thrown into their midst, even the supposed officers joining in the retreat. The oil wagon was now easy of access, and Tom and Ned, with Mr. Damon to aid them, hastened toward it. Then the work of filling the tanks went on in something like good old, United States fashion.
The last gallon of kerosene had been put aboard, and Tom and Ned with Mr. Damon, had climbed on deck, when the gaily uniformed officer, who had requested the delay, came riding up furiously.
“Hold! Hold! If you please!” he cried. “The governor has come. He wants to see you.”
“Too late!” answered Tom. “Give him our best regards and ask him to come to the United States if he wants to see us. Sorry we haven’t cards handy. Ned, take the pilot house, and shoot her up sharp when you get the signal. I’m going to run the motor. I don’t know just how she’ll behave on the kerosene.”
“You must remain!” angrily cried the officer.
“The United States doesn’t take ‘must’ from anybody, from the Czar down!” cried Tom as he disappeared into the motor room. The window was open, and the youth turned on the power the official cried again to him:
“Halt! Here comes the governor! I declared you arrested by his orders, and in the name of the Czar!”
“Nothing doing!” yelled Tom, and then, looking 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.
“Stop! 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 hound the Falcon was after a perilous trip through two storms. But she weathered them well.
In due season they reached Paris again, and now, having no reason for concealment, they flew boldly down, to change what remained of the kerosene for gasolene, as the motor worked better on that. The secret police learned that the exiles were aboard, but they could do nothing, as the offenses were political ones, and so Tom kept his friends safe.
Then they started on the long voyage across the Atlantic, and though they had one bad experience in a storm over that mighty ocean, they got safely home to Shopton in due season.
There is little more to tell. The platinum proved to be even more valuable than Tom had expected. He could have sold it all for a large sum, but he preferred to keep most of what he had for his inventive work, and he used considerable of it in his machinery. Ned disposed of his, selling Tom some at a lower price than market quotations, and the Russians got a good price for theirs, turning the money into the fund to help their fellow exiles. Mr. Damon also made a good donation to the cause, as did Tom and Ned.
Mr. Petrofsky and his brother, with the other exile, joined friends in New York, and promised to come and see Tom when they could.
“Well, I suppose you’ll take a long vacation now,” said Mary Nestor, to Tom, when he called on her one evening to present her a unique ring, with the stones set in some of the platinum he had dug in the Siberian mine.
“Vacation? I have no time for vacations!” said the young inventor. “I’m soon going to work on my silent airship, and on some other things I have in mind. I want more adventures.”
“Oh, you greedy boy!” exclaimed Mary with a laugh.
And what adventures Tom had next will be found in the next book of this series, which will be entitled, “Tom Swift in Captivity; Or, a Daring Escape by Airship.”
Tom had several offers to give exhibitions in his air glider, from aviation committees at various m
eets, but he declined.
“I haven’t time,” he declared. “I’m too busy.”
“You ought to rest,” his chum Ned advised him.
“‘Bless my alarm clock!’ as Mr. Damon would say,” exclaimed Tom. “The best rest is new work,” and then he began sketching his ideas for a silent motor craft, during which we will take leave of him for a while.
TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY
Or, A DARING ESCAPE BY AIRSHIP,
CHAPTER I
A STRANGE REQUEST
Tom Swift closed the book of adventures he had been reading, tossed it on the table, and got up. Then he yawned.
“What’s the matter?” asked his chum, Ned Newton, who was deep in another volume.
“Oh, I thought this was g Tom Swift closed the book of adventures he had been reading, tossed it on the table, and got up. Then he yawned.
oing to be something exciting,” replied Tom, motioning toward the book he had discarded. “But say! the make-believe adventures that fellow had, weren’t anything compared to those we went through in the city of gold, or while rescuing the exiles of Siberia.”
“Well,” remarked Ned, “they would have to be pretty classy adventures to lay over those you and I have had lately. But where are you going?” he continued, for Tom had taken his cap and started for the door.
“I thought I’d go out and take a little run in the aeroplane. Want to come along? It’s more fun than sitting in the house reading about exciting things that never have happened. Come on out and—”
“Yes, and have a tumble from the aeroplane, I suppose you were going to say,” interrupted Ned with a laugh. “Not much! I’m going to stay here and finish this book.”
“Say,” demanded Tom indignantly. “Did you ever know me to have a tumble since I knew how to run an airship?”
“No, I can’t say that I did. I was only joking.”
“Then you carried the joke too far, as the policeman said to the man he found lugging off money from the bank. And to make up for it you’ve got to come along with me.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 152
