o loudly that it seemed the Russians must
hear and charge down upon him.

They came on cautiously, peering this way then that. He caught the gleam
of a knife, the dull-black shine of an automatic. It was a man hunt, sure
enough--and he was the man. Now they were five paces from him, now three,
now two. His breath came in little inaudible gasps. His muscles knotted
and unknotted.

And now the moment had come. The men were even with the crusher, on the
opposite side from him. Gathering all his strength, he heaved away at the
hopper. There followed a grinding sound, a shout of warning, then a dull
thud. The enemy were trapped.

Pant spun round the crusher like a top. Seizing the wire he had arranged
for his improvised sled, he rushed toward the door, dragging the batteries
after him.

A glance backward came near convulsing him with laughter. One of the
Russians had succeeded in thrusting his head through the narrow opening at
the top of the inverted hopper. Here he stuck. To the boy, he resembled a
backwoodsman encircled by a barber's huge apron.

But there was little time for mirth; business was at hand. New problems
confronted him. Were other Bolsheviki near the shed? If so, then all was
lost.

Poking his head out of the door, he peered about carefully. There was not
a person in sight. The wind had risen.

"Good!" he muttered, "it will hide my tracks!"

He was soon speeding across the snow. In another five minutes he was
peering like a woodchuck from his hole in the snowbank. His batteries were
already inside. If he had not been observed, he had only to block his
entrance and leave the wind to plaster it over with drifting snow.

As he looked his brow wrinkled. Then he dodged back, drawing the snow-cake
door after him. The two Russians had emerged from the shed.

* * * * *

For hours on end the balloon, with Dave Tower, Jarvis and the stranger on
board, now hundreds of miles from the mines, swept over the barren
whiteness of unexplored lands. The sun went down and the moon shone in all
its glory. The fleeting panorama below turned to triangles great and
small--triangles of pale yellow and midnight blue. Now and again the earth
seemed to rise up toward them. By this Dave and Jarvis knew that they were
drifting over snow-capped hills. When it receded, they knew they were over
the tundra. Sometimes they caught the silver flash and gleam of a river
the ice of which had