e 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 outside laid aside something that looked
like an air pump. He applied one eye to a crack, and looked in on
the sleeping watchman.

"He's off," the man murmured. "I thought he'd never get to sleep!
Now to get in and dose those two lads! Then I'll have the place to
myself!"

There was a clicking noise about the lock on the shed door. It was
not a very secure lock at best, and, under the skilful fingers of
the midnight visitor, it quickly gave way. The man entered. He gave
one look at the slumbering watchman, listened to his heavy
breathing, and then went softly toward the airship, which looked to
be immense in the comparatively small shed--taking up nearly all the
space.

The intruder peered in through the cabin windows where Ned and Tom
were asleep. Once more there was in the atmosphere a sickish odor.
The man again worked the instrument which was like a small air pump,
taking care not to get his own face too near it. Presently he
stopped and listened.

"They're doped," he murmured. He arose, and took from his mouth and
nose a handkerchief saturated with some chemical that had rendered
him immune to the effects of the sleep-producing that he had
generated. "Sound asleep," he added. Then, taking out a long, keen
knife, the vandal stole toward where the great wings of the RED
CLOUD str