fairly jumped aboard Tom Swift's biggest
airship. The unconscious one was carried with them.

Then the motor was speeded up. The roar and throbbing were almost
deafening.

"Stop that! Hold on! That's my machine!" yelled Tom.

He might as well have spoken to the wind. With a rush and a roar
the big Eagle shot away and upward, carrying the men and their
mysterious, unconscious companion. It was getting too dark for Tom
and Ned to make out the forms or features of the strangers.

"We're too late!" said Ned, hopelessly.

"Yes, they got away," agreed Tom. "Oh, if only I had my speedy
little monoplane!"

"But who can they be? How did your airship get here? And who is
that man they carried out of the house?" cried Ned.

"I don't know the last--maybe one of their crowd who was injured
in a fight."

"What crowd?"

"The Peters gang, of course. Can't you see it, Ned?"

Unable to do anything, the two youths watched the flight of the
Eagle. She did not move at her usual speed, for she was carrying
too heavy a load.

Presently from the air overhead, and slightly behind them, the
boys heard the sound of another motor. They turned quickly.

"Look!" cried Ned. "Another airship, by all that's wonderful!"

"If we could only stop them!" exclaimed Tom. "That's a big
machine, and they could take us aboard. Then we could chase the
Eagle. We could catch her, too, for she's overloaded!"

Frantically he and Tom waved their caps at the man who was now
almost overhead in his airship. The boys did not call. They well
knew, with the noise of the motor, the occupant of the airship
could not hear them. But they waved and pointed to the slowly-moving
Eagle.

To their surprise and delight the man above them shut off his
engine, and seemed about to come down. Then Tom cried, knowing he
could be heard:

"Help us capture that airship? It's mine and they've stolen it!"

"All right! Be with you in a minute!" came back the answer from
above.

The second biplane came down to earth, ands as it ceased running
along on its bicycle wheels, the occupant jumped out.

"Hello, Tom Swift!" he called, as he took off his goggles.

"Why--why it's Mr. Halling!" cried the young inventor, in delight,
recognizing the birdman who had brought him the first news of Mr.
Damon's trouble, the day the airship became entangled in the
aerials of the wireless on Tom's house.

"What are you doing here, Tom?" asked Mr. Hailing. "What has
happened?"

"We're