on in
something like good old, United States fashion.

The last gallon of kerosene had been put aboard, and Tom and Ned with
Mr. Damon, had climbed on deck, when the gaily uniformed officer, who
had requested the delay, came riding up furiously.

"Hold! Hold! If you please!" he cried. "The governor has come. He wants
to see you."

"Too late!" answered Tom. "Give him our best regards and ask him to
some to the United States if he wants to see us. Sorry we haven't cards
handy. Ned, take the pilot house, and shoot her up sharp when you get
the signal. I'm going to run the motor. I don't know just how she'll
behave on the kerosene."

"You must remain!" angrily cried the officer.

"The United States doesn't take 'must' from anybody, from the Czar
down!" cried Tom as he disappeared into the motor room. The window was
open, and the youth turned on the power the official cried again to him:

"Halt! Here comes the governor! I declared you arrested by his orders,
and in the name of the Czar!"

"Nothing doing!" yelled Tom, and then, looking from the window, he saw
approaching a troop of Cossacks, in the midst of whom rode a man in a
brilliant uniform--evidently the governor.

"Stop! Stop!" cried the official.

"Here we go, Ned!" yelled Tom, and turning on more power the Falcon
arose swiftly, before the very eyes of the angry governor, and his
staff of Cossack soldiers.

Up and up she went, faster and faster, the motors working well on the
kerosene. Higher and higher. The governor and his soldiers were
directly below her now.

"Stop! Stop! You must stop. The Imperial governor orders it!" yelled
the officer, evidently his Excellency's aide-de-camp.

"We can't hear you!" shouted Tom, waving his hand from the motor room
window, and then, turning on still more power he flew over the city,
taking his friends and the valuable supply of platinum with him. So
surprised were the soldiers that they did not fire a shot, but had they
done so it is doubtful if much damage could have been done.

"And now for home!" cried Tom, and homeward hound the Falcon was after
a perilous trip through two storms. But she weathered them well.

In due season they reached Paris again, and now, having no reason for
concealment, they flew boldly down, to change what remained of the
kerosene for gasolene, as the motor worked better on that. The secret
police learned that the exiles were aboard, but they could do nothing,
as the offenses were poli