OFF IN THE AIRSHIP

Going from the brightly lighted shop into the darkness of the night,
illuminated as it was only by the stars, neither Tom, Ned, nor
Eradicate, could see anything at first. They had to stand still for a
moment to accustom their eyes to the gloom.

"Can you see them?" cried Tom to his chum.

"No, but I can hear them! Over this way!" yelled Ned, and then, being
able to dimly make out objects, so he would not run into them, he
started off, followed by the young inventor.

Tom could hear several persons running away now, but he could see no
one, and from the sound he judged that the spies, if such they were,
were hurrying across the fields that surrounded the shop.

It was almost a hopeless task to pursue them, but the two lads were not
the kind that give up. They rushed forward, hoping to be able to
grapple with those who had looked in the shop window, but it was not to
be.

The sound of the retreating footsteps became more and more faint, until
finally they gave no clew to follow.

"Better stop," advised Tom. "No telling where we'll end up if we keep
on running. Besides it might be dangerous."

"Dangerous; how?" panted Ned.

"They might dodge around, and wait for us behind some tree or bush."

"An' ef dat Foger feller am around he jest as soon as not fetch one ob
us a whack in de head," commented Eradicate grimly.

"Guess you're about right," admitted Ned. "There isn't much use keeping
on. We'll go back."

"What sort of fellows were they?" asked Tom, when, after a little
further search, the hunt was given up. "Could you see them well, Ned?"

"Not very good. Just as I went to get you that wrench I noticed two
faces looking in the window. I must have taken them by surprise, for
they dodged down in an instant. Then I yelled, and they ran off."

"Did you see Andy Foger?"

"No, I didn't notice him."

"Was either of them one of the spies who had Mr. Petrofsky in the hut?"

"I didn't see those fellows very well, you remember, so I couldn't say."

"That's so, but I'll bet that's who they were."

"What do you think they're after, Tom?"

"One of two things. They either want to get our Russian friend into
their clutches again, or they're after me--to try to stop me from going
to Siberia."

"Do you think they'd go to such length as that?"

"I'm almost sure they would. Those Russian police are wrong, of course,
but they think Mr. Petrofsky is an Anarchist or something like that,
and