"What a garden of Eden!" exclaimed Dave. "And you would leave all its safety and comfort to take a chance in the great disturbed world? Why will you be so foolish?"

The man turned a look of compassion upon him. "You will never know why, because you have never known what it is to live without the push and pull of many human beings striving for mastery all about you. In a well-populated land, this would all be very wonderful. Here it is nothing. Nothing!"

As he spoke, the man bent over and opened a small box made of heavy driftwood.

Having peered into its depth for a second, he uttered a sharp cry:

"The gold! It is gone!"

"Was there much?" asked Dave.

"Around a hundredweight. Who could have taken it? Yesterday we would have given it away for a song. To-day, with hopes of deliverance at hand, it is indispensable. Who could the robbers be?"

"The 'eathen, the unnatural, bloody, bloomin' 'eathen," exclaimed Jarvis. "Find them and you find the gold."

The "unnatural 'eathen" were not to be found. Had the earth opened up and swallowed them, they could not have more completely vanished from the region of the City of Gold.

When a search far and wide had been made for them, with no results, attention was turned to the problem of a journey to other lands, for, even robbed of their gold as they were, these former exiles were eager to escape and to try their hand at making a living in more populated lands.

Three days were spent in futile attempts to start that oriental engine. When this was given up, it was decided that they should inflate the balloon, await a favorable wind and try their fortunes at drifting back to the land whence they came.

Not one of them but knew the perils of such an undertaking. Should the wind shift, they might be carried out over the sea. On the other hand, they might be forced to make a landing in the heart of the vast, barren lands, and in that case, they must surely starve. The balloon cabin would carry them all, but there would be little room left for provisions.

Not one of them hesitated. Boldest of them all was the beautiful girl who stuck close to Dave's side, watching his every move with big admiring eyes, and, at spare times, learning to speak bits of his language.

The balloon was at last inflated. Provisions were loaded. The wind was beginning to shift. They would be off in a few hours. All were expectant. A tense nervousness gripped them, a sensation composed half of hope and half of despair. They were eating the evening meal in the common mess hall by the cliff when a sound utterly strange to the Russian's ears smote the silent air. It was a thundering pop-pop-pop.

Dave turned white. Jarvis sprang to his feet with a wild howl on his lips.

"The 'eathen! The bloody, bloomin' 'eathen. It's the engine."

He was right. It was the engine. It was thundering out its wild song of power and speed, and its voice was growing more distant.

As they crowded from the mess cabin, they saw the balloon hanging in midair. Watching they saw it move slowly southward. On the bridge by the cabin stood two small figures.

"The 'eathen! The bloody, bloomin' 'eathen!" cried Jarvis.

"We might have known," groaned Dave. "They're oriental and so is the engine."



CHAPTER XVII

KIDNAPPED

On entering the city, after leaving his cattle in safe keeping at the farmyard, Johnny Thompson went directly to Red Cross headquarters to inquire for Mazie.

"Mazie!" exclaimed the matron in amazement, "we thought she went with you. We have not seen her since you left."

Johnny sank weakly into a chair. His head whirled. Mazie gone for five days! What must be her fate? In this city of opposing factions, with its dens of radicals, thieves and murderers, and, above all, the gang of "yellow men" from the north, what chance could there be of ever seeing her? Yet he would! At least he would give his life in a search for her!

Hurriedly sketching to the nurse his plans for the refuge for homeless ones and informing her of the whereabouts of the cattle and the remaining gold, he dashed from the room. Armed with his automatic, he went at once to the heart of the most treachery-ridden city in the world. Where was he to search for her? He had not the remotest notion. Suddenly, thinking of the telegrams she meant to send to Hong Kong ordering rice and sweet potatoes and of the visit she had meant to make to the owner of the unoccupied hotel, he decided to attempt to trace her steps at these places.

At the telephone station, the agent, referring to his reports, established the fact that she had sent the telegrams. At the office of the owner of the hotel she was unknown. No American woman had been to him to rent the hotel. That much then was settled; somewhere between the telegraph office and the hotel owner's place of business she had been spirited away.

Johnny began tracing out the course she would probably have taken. A narrow side street offered a short cut. Being familiar with the city and in a hurry, she would take that. Half way down this street, Johnny came upon a familiar door. It was that of Wo Cheng, the Chinese costumer. He had had dealings with Wo Cheng during his sojourn in this city as a soldier. Here was a man he could trust. He paused by the door and gave the accustomed signal of those other days.

In answer to his rap, the door opened a crack.

"Oo-we! Johnny!" grunted the Chinaman, opening the door, then closed it quickly as Johnny entered.

"You come buy?" he rubbed his hands together.

"No come buy?"

"Wanchee cum-show?"

"No wanchee cum show. No wanchee money."

"Oo-we!" grunted the Chinaman again.

Johnny's eyes were restlessly roving over the array of garments that hung on either side of a narrow aisle. Suddenly he uttered a low exclamation and sprang to a corner and examined a woman's dress.

"Wo Cheng," he demanded almost fiercely, "where you come buy this?"

"Oo-we!" squealed the Chinaman. "Can't tell mine, not savvy mine."

"You woncha savvy!" Johnny hissed between tight set teeth.

"Mebby can do," murmured the Chinaman hurriedly. "No see. Mebby now see. See Jap man, this one, velly small Jap man. This one think mine."

"Good," said Johnny. "Now perhaps you can tell me what kind of a dress he took away?"

"Mebby can do." The man, fumbling among his garments, came upon a plain, Russian, peasant type of dress.

"Take look, see," he murmured. "One, two, three, allesame."

"All right, you no speak see mine, savvy."

"No speak," murmured Wo Cheng.

"Good-bye," said Johnny bolting out of the door.

"Mazie's dress," he mumbled to himself. "They have transformed her into a Russian peasant girl for their safety, but where have they taken her?"

As he rounded the corner, an old familiar sound smote his ear. The rat-tat-tat of a machine gun. It was accompanied almost at once by another and yet another.

"An uprising and a battle!" he muttered savagely. "Worse and worse. What chance has a fellow got? Do well enough if I escape the firing squad."

* * * * *

The two oriental spies in the balloon they had stolen from Dave Tower and Jarvis were not as fortunate as in the first instance they seemed to be. There was practically no wind. The engine was slow in getting the bulky sausage under way.

Suddenly as the watchers, with despair written on their faces, gazed skyward, they saw something slip from the cabin deck and drop like a plummet. A silvery thread appeared to follow it.

"The anchor and the cable!" exclaimed Dave. "It's got away from them. If it catches—C'mon."

He was away like a rocket. Uneven surface, slippery hills of snow meant nothing to him. He was racing for freedom from threatening years of exile.

Jarvis, followed by the Russians, came on more slowly. As they mounted a low hill they saw the cabin of the balloon give a sudden lunge.

"She's caught!" panted Jarvis. "'Ere's 'opin' she 'olds."

In another second, a groan of despair escaped his lips. It was true that the anchor had caught in a frozen bank of earth and was holding fast, but the men were bending over the rail working with the upper end of the steel cable. If they could loosen it or file it, causing it to snap, no human power could bring them back. And if they got away with the balloon—.

But after despair, came hope. There sounded the pop of an automatic. Six shots came in quick succession.

"Dave's a wonder with an automatic!" exclaimed Jarvis.

The men worked on. Would they accomplish their task? Every person in the little group of watchers held his breath.

Crack-crack-crack. The automatic spoke again. Doubtless Dave had moved to a position more directly under the cabin.

"'E's got 'em! 'E's got 'em!" exulted Jarvis, throwing his cap in air.

One of the Orientals was seen to waver, then to fall backward. The other instantly dropped from sight.

"The windlass," commanded Jarvis. "Some of you bring it up. We'll pull 'em down alright, alright! We'll get the bloody, bloomin' 'eathen yet."

A wooden windlass, made for bringing the balloon to earth in case of storm, was brought forward, while Dave and Jarvis watched for any indication of further activity on the part of the robbers.

Once the windlass was fastened to the bank by means of ice anchors, the task of bringing down the balloon was a matter of moments.

Two cowering wretches were found in one corner of the cabin.

"I'm for 'aving an end to 'em at once and immediately," stormed Jarvis.

"No! No!" smiled Dave. "They're just the boys we want. They are going to tell us why the engine won't go for us."

"And if they do?"

"If they do, we'll leave them the greenhouse, coal mine, heating plant and all in exchange for that bit of information."

Jarvis seemed quite content with any arrangement which promised to put a few thousand miles between him and the "bloody, bloomin' 'eathen."

After the wound of the one who had been winged by Dave's automatic had been dressed, Dave locked himself in the cabin with the yellow men.

It took him three hours to secure the desired information, but in the end it came.

The wounded Oriental showed him a secret eccentric bearing through which the crank shaft operated. When this bearing was properly adjusted the engine worked perfectly, when it was out of adjustment, it would not work at all.

When Dave had operated the engine for an hour, he sent the prisoners back to the greenhouse, where they were released. The gold they had stolen was found hidden away in a locker of the balloon cabin.

In another hour, the balloon, with all on board, gently urged on by the wind, ably assisted by the now perfect engine, was making good time toward Vladivostok.

* * * * *

As Johnny Thompson hesitated at the head of the street, listening to the rat-tat-tat of machine guns, uncertain which way to turn, he heard the distant thunder of an engine in midair. Gazing away to the north, he saw a dirigible balloon circling in search of a likely lighting place.

"I wonder which faction that bird belongs to?" he murmured.

If he had but known the truth, a little ray of hope would have pierced the gloom of his leaden sky, for this balloon was none other than the one he had seen carry his good friends, Dave and Jarvis, away from the mines, some weeks before. They had made the journey in safety. Twice they had been obliged to land to escape the fury of a storm. Wild reindeer had made up for the scantiness of their food supply. Now they were about to alight and enter the city of many mysteries.

Pant had already entered. The clan was gathering, gathering for stirring events, for the development of new mysteries and the solving of old ones. Soon, all unknown to one another, Dave and Jarvis, Pant, Johnny Thompson, Cio-Cio-San, and Mazie would be in the same city—a city seething in the tumult of revolt.



CHAPTER XVIII

UNDER MACHINE-GUN FIRE

By the time Johnny had left the den of Wo Cheng, night had come down upon the city. It was by the light of a golden moon that he saw the balloon hanging in the sky. The balloon, however, interested him little. He was thinking only of Mazie. He had decided to make his way to a corner of the city occupied by Japanese people of doubtful character. To do this he must leave the street he was in and, after turning to his right, go straight ahead for ten blocks.

He was not long in discovering that the carrying out of his plans would put him in the greatest danger. The cross-street was jammed with Russians who fled from the raking fire of machine guns set somewhere at the head of that street. Johnny could still hear their rat-tat and the sing of bullets. Men, women and children ran through the street. An aged peasant woman, her face streaming with blood, toppled toward him, then fell. He sprang to assist her, but two of her own people came to her aid.

"What's the rumpus?" He hazarded the question in English.

"Nobody knows," said a clean-faced young Russian. "It's the Japs shooting. Can't tell why. Probably just nervous. Nothing was done against them, though St. Christopher knows it's plenty we'd like to do. They want this peninsula, and if keeping us fighting among ourselves will give it to them, they'll win it."

"I've seen their spies two thousand miles from the last sign of civilization."

"They are everywhere, like fleas."

"I've got to get at some of them. Think they kidnapped a friend of mine," said Johnny. "But how can I get past this?"

"I know a closed private alley. Want to try that?"

"I'll try anything."

"Come."

The man led the way half the distance back to Wo Cheng's door, then suddenly opened a door in a wall.

"See. Through there."

He closed the door behind Johnny. Johnny looked about. Straight on before him lay a path, to the right of which was a garden. At the end of the path was another door.

"Must open on another street," he muttered to himself. "Touchy sort of business this prowling through a strange city at night with a big row on foot. Can't be helped though."

He reached the door only to find it locked. The wall was not high. A gnarled pear tree offered him a lift to the top. He had soon scaled it, and was looking up and down the narrow street that ran on the other side.

"Not a soul in sight," he whispered.

He listened for a second. The rattle of machine-gun fire had ceased. Now and again there came the crack of a rifle or automatic.

Johnny slipped off the wall. His feet had hardly touched ground when a shot rang out and a bullet sang past him. Dodging into the deep-set doorway, he whipped out his automatic and waited. Footsteps were approaching.

"Jig's up," he muttered. "Worse luck for it!"

His hands fumbled at the door. In a second there came a dull thud on the other side of it. He had pushed his automatic through a latch-string opening.

"No use getting caught armed," was his mental comment.

In another moment the Japanese military police were upon him. In vain he told them that he was an American, in vain presented his papers. They had seen him climb over the wall; that was enough. Many Russian radicals spoke English very well, and, as for papers, they could be forged. Besides, were there not many American radicals, soldiers of fortune, here assisting in the attempt to overthrow their rule. He should go to prison at once, and "To-morrow!" There was something so sinister about the way they said that "to-morrow" that it sent the cold chills racing down his spine.

Down one narrow street, then another and another they went until, eventually, they came to a frowning stone-wall with an iron-grating set deep in an arched ante-room. Through this doorway he was thrust and the lock clanged behind him.

He was not alone. He had hardly taken a step before he stumbled upon a prone form. Many men and some women were sprawled about on the stone floor.

"Amerikaner," came in a shrill whisper. "Lie down here."

Johnny obeyed.

"Got you, did they," said the voice with a Russian accent.

"Yes, and for what?" said Johnny.

"In this land we do not ask for what. It is enough that we are got."

"What's to-morrow?" asked Johnny suddenly.

"To-morrow we will be shot."

"That's cheerful," said Johnny. "What time?"

"Before dawn."

"That's rotten soon," said Johnny. "I don't think I'll stay to see it."

"I guess you will," said the stranger.

There seemed nothing more to be said, so the two new-found friends lay there in silence. Each was busy with his own thoughts. Johnny's were mostly of Mazie and of the thousands of starving children they had hoped to aid.

"It's sure rotten luck," he ejaculated at last.

Just at that moment the great iron gate was heard to creak on its hinges. Other wretches were being pitched inside to await their doom.

The door was so deeply set in the wall that nothing could be seen of the newly arrived prisoners.

As Johnny lay wondering what they were like, he heard a shrill whisper:

"Johnny! Johnny Thompson!"

"Here!" he whispered back.

There were sounds of a person crawling toward him, the curse of a Russian who had been disturbed in what was probably his last sleep; then Johnny's lips uttered a low exclamation. He had caught the dull gleam of a golden ball of fire.

"Pant," he murmured.

"It's me, Johnny." The boy's hand touched him.

Johnny was dumfounded. "How'd they get you?"

"Beaned one of them cops, I did. Saw 'em glom onto you. Wanted t' horn in with you."

"Guess you horned in once too often," said Johnny huskily. "This is a death-watch we're keeping, and it's for ourselves."

"We better blow the coop then."

"If we can."

"We can." Pant's tone was decided and convincing.

For some time after that the two boys spoke of their experiences since last they met.

"You see, I got it cached out yonder three hills and a hike outside this burg. She'll tip the beam at a century weight and a half, maybe more. All pure gold, you bet. And it's all for the little Russian kids, every bit. I ain't held back a copper."

Johnny, knowing that Pant was speaking of the gold he had taken from Mine No. 3 and had sledded nearly three thousand miles to Vladivostok at risk of his life, could only grip his hand and swallow hard.

"Gee!" said Pant, when Johnny had finished his story. "We'll have to find that Mazie of yours, and quick. But we've got to get out of here first."

He was ready with his plans after a moment's thought. Prisoners were being brought in every ten or fifteen minutes. There were no lights in the prison and the military police carried none. The place was pitch dark. He did not say that he could see well enough, but, from past experiences, Johnny knew that he could. They would creep close to the iron gate and, when it was opened to admit others, they would crawl out on hands and knees.

"And if luck's bad, then this," said Pant, slipping a small dagger into Johnny's hand.

"You got one, too?"

"Sure."

"All right."

They crept close to the gate and waited. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes of dreadful silence went by with never an approaching footstep. Johnny's heart beat painfully. What if the last poor victim had been brought to await his doom? Dawn would be breaking, and then the firing squad. Cold perspiration beaded his forehead.

But hold! there came again the shuffle of feet. A lone prisoner was being brought in.

"Now!" came in a faint whisper. A steady hand gripped his arm. He felt himself led forward. A foot scraped his knee. It was the incoming prisoner. He uttered no sound.

They were now on the outside of the gate. Flattening themselves against the wall, not daring to breathe, they waited.

Turning, the police clicked their heels and marched away. Outside, before the open anteway, marched a solitary guard. Once they were past him, they were safe.

Fortune favored them. The man hazarded a moment off duty to step into a door for a cup of coffee. In that moment, they were away.

"Easy," said Pant. "Should have brought your friend, the Roosian."

"He wouldn't come," said Johnny sorrowfully. "Said it wasn't any use."

"All we got to do's keep hid till mornin'."

They escaped from the alley through a gate into a garden, and there, in a shed against the side of a brick building, they waited for the morning.

As they lay there half awake, there came to Johnny's ears the words of a ridiculous popular song of other days:

"Oh, Johnny! Oh, Johnny! How you come on, Oh, Johnny! Oh, Johnny! How you come on!"

"Sounds like Mazie," whispered Johnny, starting to his feet. "It is Mazie. They've got her hid up there!"

Pant pulled him back to earth. "If it's Mazie, they've got men watchin'. No good to spill the beans. To-morrow night we'll make up a bunch an' git 'em."

Realizing the wisdom of these words, Johnny quieted his mad desire to rush the place at once, and sat down.

Just as the first red streaks striped the sky, there came a loud volley of shots.

Johnny plugged his ears and shivered. Perhaps they were executing the prisoners. Who could tell?



CHAPTER XIX

JOHNNY GOES INTO ACTION

The first precaution taken by Johnny and Pant, after leaving the shed in the back garden, was to hasten to the water-front where their friends, the rough and ready mining gang, were still living in a cabin near the gasoline schooner. Selecting eight of these, Johnny detailed them to work in two shifts of four each, to lurk about the building where Mazie was being confined. They were instructed to guard every exit to the place, and, if an attempt was made by the kidnappers to change base, to put up a fight and, if possible, release Mazie.

Johnny realized that time was precious, that not one moment must be lost in going to the rescue of his girl-pal, but in this land of many soldiers and little law it was necessary to move with caution. When darkness came, with his gang of miners and a few other hardy fellows, he could rush the place and bring Mazie away without being caught in the hopelessly entangled net of Russian law.

Pant appeared to have lost all interest in the case. He went prowling along the water-front, peering into every junk-shop he came to. What he finally pounced upon and carried away, after tossing the shopkeeper a coin, amused Johnny greatly. It was a bamboo pole, like a fishing-pole only much larger. He estimated it to be at least five inches across the base.

"Now what in time does he want of that?" Johnny asked himself.

Arrived at the Red Cross station, Pant disappeared with his pole inside an old shed that flanked the Red Cross building. Johnny saw little more of him that day. Pant went out after lunch to return with a cheap looking-glass and a glass cutter. There was an amused grin lurking about his lips as Johnny stared at him, but he said nothing; only returned to his shed and his mysterious labors.

As darkness fell, the clan gathered. The miners in full force and variously armed with rifles, automatics, knives and pick-axes came in from the water-front. Pant came out from his hiding. He carried on his back a bulky sack which did not appear to weigh him down greatly. It gave forth a hollow rattle as he walked.

"Sounds like skulls," said one miner with a superstitious shudder.

The little band received a welcome shock as they rounded the corner of the street by the cathedral. They chanced to be beneath a flickering street-lamp when some one shouted:

"Hello there, 'ere's the gang!"

It was Jarvis and Dave Tower. Having alighted from the balloon and procured for their exiled friends comfortable quarters in a place of refuge, they had gone out in search of Johnny Thompson, and here they had found him.

"What's up?" demanded Dave.

Johnny told him the situation in as few words as possible, ending, "You want in on it?"

"Yer jolly right," exclaimed Jarvis, "and 'ere's 'ate to the bloomin' 'eathen!"

So, strengthened by two good men, the party moved cautiously forward until they were only one block from their destination.

"Split up into two sections," commanded Johnny in a whisper. "One party under Dave go up street beyond the place, the other under Jarvis stay down street. Pant and I will drop back into the garden and try to establish connection with the prisoner. We'll get the general lay of things and report. If a shot is fired, that will be a signal to rush the place."

They were away. Creeping stealthily forward, they entered the gate to the garden. Then, skulking along the wall, they made their way toward the shed where they had spent part of the previous night. Twice the hollow things in Pant's sack rattled ominously.

"Keep that thing quiet, can't you?" snapped Johnny. "What y' got it for, anyway?"

"Show you in a minute," whispered Pant.

So they crept on toward the goal. No lights shone from these back windows. The place was dark as a tomb. Somewhere in the distance a clock slowly chimed the hour. A shiver ran over Johnny's body. Things would happen soon.

"All I ask is five minutes; five minutes, that's all," whispered Pant, as he lowered his sack cautiously to the ground and unlaced its top.

Dimly through the darkness Johnny could see him draw several long objects from the bag. When the bag was empty, he began setting these objects end to end. Evidently they were fitted with sockets, for, once they were joined together, they stuck in place. He soon had them all together. Johnny surmised that this was the reconstructed bamboo pole with all obstructing joints taken out; but what Pant meant to do with it, he could not even guess. He watched with impatient curiosity.

"A speaking tube," he whispered at last. "It's a good idea."

"Mebby; but that ain't it," breathed Pant.

"Well, whatever it is, be quick about it. Somebody out front may spill the beans any time. If the military police rush the boys, the game's up."

Pant paid no attention. His movements were as steady and cautious as a cat stalking a robin.

"Now, I guess we're about ready," he murmured. "Be prepared for a dash. There's stairs to the right. I may start something." His words were short and quick. Evidently his heart was giving him trouble.

"All right," Johnny stood on tip-toes in his agitation.

Suddenly Pant reared his tube in air. Then, to Johnny's utter astonishment, he dropped on one knee and peered into an opening at one side of it.

"A periscope!" whispered Johnny. "But what can you see in the dark?"

For a moment Pant did not answer. His breath came in little gasps.

"She's there," he whispered. "She's tied. There's terror in her eyes. There's something crawling on the floor. Can't make it out. We gotta get up there quick."

All at once a shot rang out. It came from the window. The tinkle of broken glass sliding down the bamboo tube told that the periscope was a wreck.

"Periscope's done for. They saw," whispered Pant. "Now for it. Up the stairs. They gave our signal. Boys will rush the place from the front. C'mon!"

They were off like a flash. Up the stairs they bounded. A door obstructed their way. Johnny's shoulder did for that.

Crashing into the room they found a candle flaring. Two persons were struggling to free themselves from imitation dragon costumes. It had been these who frightened Mazie.

"Snap dragon!" exclaimed Johnny, seizing one of the beasts by the tail, and sending him crashing through the panels of a door.

"Snap dragon!" He sent the other through the window to the ground below.

"I'll teach you!" He glared about him for an instant. Then his eyes fell on Mazie. Without attempting to free her, he gathered her into his arms and fairly hurled her through the door where he and Pant had entered. Then he took his stand in front of it.

He was not a moment too soon, for now the place was swarming with little yellow men. In the light of the candle, their faces seemed hideously distorted with hate. At once Johnny went into action. His right took a man under the chin. No sound came from him save a dull thud. A second went jibbering over the window-sill. A third crashed against the plaster wall. Pant, too, was busy. Everywhere at once, his wicked little dagger gleamed. But, suddenly, two of the strongest sprang at him, bearing him to the floor.

Leaping at these, Johnny gripped them by their collars and sent them crashing together. His breath was coming in hoarse gasps. He could stand little more of this. Where were the boys?

As if in answer, there came the crash of arms on a door and Jarvis burst into the room. He was followed by the whole gang.

"Ow-ee! Ow-ee!" squealed the yellow men. "The white devils!"

In another moment the room was cleared of fighters. Only three of the enemy remained. They were well past moving.

"Pitch 'em after 'em," roared Johnny. "Tell the cowards to carry away their wounded."

The wounded men were sent sliding down the stairs.

"Now then, git out. Scatter. I never saw any of you before. See!"

There was a roar of understanding from the men. Then they "faded."

Leaping to the back stairway, Johnny picked Mazie up in his arms and carried her down to the garden. Here he cut the bands that held her hands and feet.

"Can you walk?"

"Yes."

"C'mon then. Gotta beat it."

They were away like a shot.

A half-hour later they were joking over a cup of chocolate and a plate of sweet biscuits in the Red Cross canteen. Mazie was still dressed as a Russian peasant girl.

"I say, Mazie!" exclaimed Johnny. "You make a jolly fine-looking peasant!"

"Thanks!" said Mazie. "But if that's the way they treat peasant girls, I prefer to be an American."

"What did they do to you?"

"Nothing, only tried to frighten me into telling where the gold was. It's not so much what they did as what they would have done." She shivered.

"Did they get any of the gold?"

"Not an ounce. It's all stowed away here at the Red Cross."

"Good! Then we'll have our haven of refuge yet."

"If we live."

"And we will."

They lapsed into a long silence, each thinking many thoughts.



CHAPTER XX

SOME MYSTERIES UNCOVERED

The days that followed were busy ones for Johnny Thompson and Mazie. The tumult in the city had died away. There was a chance for work. Feed must be bought for the cattle from Mongolia; the hotel was to be rented. Through the good services of the Red Cross, the most needy of the refugees were to be assembled, and, when the ship from China arrived, the work of unloading was to be directed.

Several busy days had passed before Johnny had time to think of looking up his gang. At this moment he was seated at the head of a seemingly endless table on each side of which was an array of pinch-faced but happy children.

When he started out to find the men the first one he came upon was Dave Tower. Dave began telling him of the strange case of the professor who had been with the Orientals at the mines, and had drifted north with them in the balloon.

"His mind seems all right now and he is well as any man could be, but he either cannot or will not tell us a thing of his life with the Orientals up there at the mines," said Dave. "There are some things we would all like to know. Strange case, I'd call it."

"Yes, but there have been stranger. Say!" Johnny slapped him on the shoulder. "You bring him around to headquarters to-night. I've got an idea."

"Righto. We'll be there. So long till then."

When Dave arrived with the professor, he found that the stage had been set for a moving-picture show. He was glad of that; it had been months since he had seen one. He was hardly prepared, however, for the type of show it was to be.

The room was darkened. Beside him, sat the professor. There came the peculiar snap-snap of the carbons as the power came on. The next instant a dazzling light fell upon the screen, and out into that light there moved a half-score of little yellow men. Some were working industriously at a machine which cut cubes of earth from the bank before them. Others were carrying the cubes away and piling them.

Professor Todd moved uneasily. He put his hands to his eyes, as if to shut out the scene. Then unexpectedly he cried out, as if in pain:

"My head! My head! He struck me."

"Who struck you?"

Dave looked about. There was no one near them.

"The yellow man; he struck me," cried the professor. Then he covered his face with his hands and his body swayed back and forth with suppressed emotion.

Johnny moved silently toward them.

"It's coming back to him. When he regains control of himself, he will know everything. It was the flash of light and the familiar scene that did it. Of course, you know that is the film he sent out to us when he was a prisoner in the mine."

What Johnny said was quite true. When the man was again in the cool out-of-doors, he was able to give a full account of his life with the Orientals. They had made him prisoner because they feared to have him at large. Other white men might appear, as indeed they had, and he might reveal their plans. He had known in a vague sort of way that some mysterious deathtrap had been set in Mine No. 1, and when, through a crack in the wall to his prison, he saw the white men arrive, he determined to attempt to warn them. This he did by singing songs to the Orientals and, at the same time, making phonographic records to be sent rolling down the hill later.

"But you don't actually know how Frank Langlois was killed?" There was disappointment in Dave's tone.

"No, I do not," said the professor.

"Oh, as to that," said Johnny. "Didn't Pant tell you?"

"Pant? I haven't seen Pant since the fight to save Mazie."

"Isn't he with the bunch?"

"No—nor hasn't been. Jarvis says his goggles were smashed in the fight. Says he saw him without them. No one's seen him since."

"You don't think they got him?"

"Not Pant. He can't be got, not by a mere band of Orientals. But what's this he told you about Langlois?"

"Oh! He stayed up there, you know. He went into Mine No. 1 and prowled round a bit. Found where the yellow bunch had run a high-tension insulated wire through a crevice in the rock to the head of that pool into which Langlois drove his pick. They ran a second wire to the base of the pool and connected the two to a heavy battery circuit. They had discovered that the pool rested upon a chalk rock which was good insulation. There was, therefore, no ground to it. But the damp spot on which Langlois was standing when he swung the pick was grounded. The minute he struck the pool the whole current passed through his body."

"Electrocuted!"

"Yes."

"Well, that's settled," said Dave, after a moment's reflection. "Now what about Pant? Where is he?"

"Let's go ask the gang."

In a little cabin close to the water-front, they found the gang. They were all there but Pant.

"Where's Pant?" asked Johnny.

"On his way to America," said one of the men. "Saw him on the steamer not a half hour ago. He told me to tell you he'd left the gold for you up at the Red Cross."

"Have his goggles on?"

"Nope."

"And his eyes?" The men, leaning forward eagerly, listened for the answer to this question.

"Steamer was pullin' out; I was too far away to see 'em."

"Oh!" The men sank back in disgust.

"As for that," said Jarvis, "I seen 'im plain enough the night of the scrap. 'E'd 'ad 'is goggles smashed to bits. I saw 'is eyes plain as I see yours."

The men leaned forward again.

"An'," Jarvis went on, "an' 'ope I may die for it, if 'e ain't got one panther eye. I saw the pupil of it shut up in the light just like a cat's."

"You'll die for it, or say you're wrong, anyway, about the panther part," smiled Johnny.

"D' y' mean to say I lied?" demanded Jarvis hotly.

"Not exactly that. You saw what you expected to see, that's all. As far as the panther part is concerned, you're dead wrong."

All eyes were now turned on Johnny.

"You see," he smiled, "the pupil of a panther's eye does not contract to a line in the light as a house cat's does. It contracts to a smaller circle, just as yours and mine do. Go consult your encyclopedia. Ask any hunter of big game, or keeper of a zoo, and he'll tell you that I'm right."

The laugh was plainly on Jarvis, and he got it from everyone.

"All the same," he maintained stoutly, "that don't prove that Pant ain't got a cat's eye, an' you all know 'e 'as or 'e's a devil. 'E can see in the dark."

There was no disputing this point, and there the argument dropped.

Two months later, having got the haven of refuge well established and turned over to the management of the Red Cross, Johnny and Mazie were on a Pacific liner bound for America. Johnny might return at some future time to the Seven Mines, but for the present he had had quite enough of Russia.

The gang were all on board. With Dave went two persons—the beautiful young exiled Russian girl and her mother.

As the steamer lost the last glimpse of land, Johnny drew from his pocket a wireless message he had received that morning. It read:

"Come over. Get in on something good. Secret Service and a three-ring circus, Pant."

"Secret Service and a three-ring circus," repeated Johnny. "Sounds pretty good. Worth looking up. Pant's a queer one. Bet he's found something different and mysterious. I'll bet on that."

He had. But this story must be told in our next volume.

THE END