together, and besides there is
not enough wind here to make it operate."

"Then you need much wind?" asked Nicolas Androwsky.

"The harder the gale the better she flies," answered Tom proudly.

"Bless my sand bag, but that's right!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, who, up to
now had not taken much part in the conversation. He followed the party
about the airship, keeping in the rear, and he eyed the Nihilists as if
he thought that each one had one or more dynamite bombs concealed on
his person.

"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Androwsky, turning suddenly to the odd man. "Are
you not one of us? Do you not believe that this terrible kingdom should
be destroyed--made as nothing, and a new one built from its ashes? Are
you not one of us?" and with a quick gesture he reached into his pocket.

"No! No!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, starting back. "Bless my election
ticket! No! Never could I throw a bomb. Please don't give me one." Mr.
Damon started to run away.

"A bomb!" exclaimed the Nihilist, and then he drew from his pocket some
pamphlets printed in Russian. "I have no bombs. Here are some of the
tracts we distribute to convert unbelievers to our cause," he went on.
"Read them and you will understand what we are striving for. They will
convert you, I am sure."

He went on, following the rest of the party, while Mr. Damon dropped
back with Ned.

"Bless my gas meter!" gasped the odd man, as he stared at the
queerly-printed documents in his hand. "I thought he was going to give
me a bomb to throw!"

"I don't blame you," said Ned in a low voice. "They look like desperate
men, but probably they have suffered many hardships, and they think
their way of righting a wrong is the only way. I suppose you'll read
those tracts," he added with a smile.

"Hum! I'm afraid not," answered Mr. Damon. "I might just as well try to
translate a Chinese laundry check. But I'll save 'em for souvenirs,"
and he carefully put them in his pocket, as if he feared they might
unexpectedly turn into a bomb and blow up the airship.

The tour of the craft was completed and the Nihilists returned to the
comfortable cabin where, much to their surprise, they were served with
a little lunch, Mr. Damon bustling proudly about from the table to the
galley, and serving tea as nearly like the Russians drink it as
possible.

"Well, you certainly have a wonderful craft here--wonderful," spoke Mr.
Androwsky. "If we had some of these in our group now, we could start
from here, hover