nder a heavy load.

A drop of several hundred feet was made about an hour later, and, as
this made it warmer, Mr. Damon, who was a great lover of fresh air,
decided to go out on the platform in front of the cabin. This platform,
and a similar one at the rear, was railed about, to prevent accidents.
A fine view could be had from them much better than through the floor
windows of the car.

"Be careful of the propeller," advised Tom, as his friend went outside.
"I don't believe you're tall enough to be hit by the blades, but don't
take any chances of standing on your tiptoes."

"Bless my pocket handkerchief, indeed I'll not," came the answer. "But
I think I shall wrap up my throat in the scarf I brought along. I am
subject to neuralgia, and the breeze may bring on an attack of it."

Wrapping along, woolen scarf about his neck, the eccentric man ventured
out on the open platform. About the middle of it, but sufficiently high
to be above a person's head, was the forward propeller, whirring around
at swift speed.

Tom, with his eye on the various gauges and the compass, was steering
the airship. He glanced at Mr. Damon, who appeared to be enjoying the
view from the platform. For an instant the eyes of the lad were taken
from the form of his friend. He looked back suddenly, however, his
attention attracted by a smothered cry. He was horrified by what he saw.

Mr. Damon was leaning far over the edge of the railing, with nothing
between him and the earth a thousand feet below. He seemed to have lost
his balance and had toppled forward, being doubled up on the iron pipe
railing, his hands hanging limply over. Then, as Tom cried to Mr. Sharp
to shut off the motor, the lad saw that, hanging to the blade of the
propeller, and being whirled around in its revolutions, was a part of
Mr. Damon's red scarf.

"Hurry! Hurry, Mr. Sharp!" yelled Tom, not daring to let go the
steering wheel, for fear the ship would encounter a treacherous current
and tilt. "Hurry to Mr. Damon!"

"What's the matter?" asked the balloonist.

"He's dead--or unconscious--hanging over the railing. He seems to be
slipping! Hurry, or it will be too late!"

Chapter 14

Andy Gives The Clue

When Mr. Swift followed the chief of police and the constable to the
town hall his mind was filled with many thoughts. All his plans for
revolutionizing submarine travel, were, of course, forgotten, and he
was only concerned with the charge that had been made