Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

“Climb up that ladder to the airship!” exclaimed the detective. “Very well,” said Murdock, and up he went. Frank and Reynard followed him, and the ship sped on. Pomp received the prisoner. “Wha’ yo’ gwine ter do wif him?” he asked Frank.

FRANK READE

WEEKLY MAGAZINE.

CONTAINING STORIES OF ADVENTURES ON LAND, SEA AND IN THE AIR.

Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application made for Second Class entry at the New York, N. Y. Post Office. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1903, in the office of the Librarian of Congress. Washington. D. C., by Frank Tousey. 24 Union Square, New York.

Frank Reade, Jr., and His Engine of the Clouds;
OR,
Chased Around the World in the Sky.

By “NONAME.”

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.
SHOT FOR MONEY.

It was a bitterly cold night in March.

The bleak, gloomy streets of Chicago were almost deserted.

A poor little boy in rags was slinking along an aristocratic avenue, shivering with the cold and looking very wretched.

His pallid, emaciated face showed poverty and privation, an air of utter misery surrounded him, and he had a mournful look in his sunken eyes.

Nobody noticed poor Joe Crosby but the police.

He was then only one of the many waifs of the great city.

Tom Reynard, the detective, had seen him stealing along like a thief, and the zealous officer became so suspicious of the boy’s actions that he began to follow him.

Perhaps he was justified in doing this, for the hoodlums of Chicago were a pretty bad set of rowdies, as a rule.

The detective was a middle aged, sharp, shrewd fellow, of medium size, clad in a black suit and derby hat, his bony face clean shaven, his keen blue eyes snapping with fire, and his reputation for ability the very finest.

He kept the skulking boy well in view and was a little bit startled to see him mount the stoop of a very handsome brown stone house, through the parlor windows of which, partly open at the top, there gleamed a dull light.

Instead of the poor little wretch making an attempt to break into the house as the detective expected, he boldly rang the bell.

A servant answered the summons, and, seeing the boy, she cried:

“What! Joe Crosby—you back home again?”

“Yes, Nora,” the boy replied, in firm tones, “and I am going to stay, too. My stepfather, Martin Murdock, is a wicked man. He lured me to a wretched tenement in West Randolph street, where an Italian villain has been keeping me a prisoner. But after a month of captivity I escaped from there to-night, and now I have come back to make Martin Murdock tell me why he did this?”

“Oh, the rascal!” indignantly cried the girl. “He told us that he sent you off to boarding-school. Come in, Joe, come in.”

“Is my stepfather in the house?”

“Yes; you will find him in the front parlor.”

The boy entered the mansion and disappeared from the detective’s view.

Reynard vented a whistle expressive of intense astonishment.

“Holy smoke!” he muttered. “Here’s a daisy game! Never thought I was going to drop onto a family affair of this kind. Wonder if I could hear what goes on in the parlor if I get up on the stoop?”

He saw that the parlor windows were partly open at the top, and mounting the stairs he crouched in the doorway.

Joe had gone into the parlor.

A well-built man, in stylish clothing, stood in the room.

It was Martin Murdock.

He was apparently about forty years of age and wore a black mustache, had dark hair and black eyes, an aquiline nose, and upon his left cheek a V-shaped, livid scar.

A cry of astonishment escaped his lips when he saw the boy.

“Free!” he gasped. “How did you get away, you whelp?”

“That is my business,” the boy replied, angrily. “You must explain why you had me imprisoned in that vile den.”

“Oh, I must, eh?” sneered the man, with a nasty leer.

“I have thought it over,” said Joe, sharply. “You was a poor man when you married my mother. When she died I know that she left me a large fortune, for I heard the lawyer read her will. You was made my guardian until I come of age, in five years. Now there was one point in the will that would make you wish to see me dead. That was the clause which said you would inherit all my money if I were to die before I am twenty-one. Are you trying to put me out of the way so you can get that money, Martin Murdock?”

He looked the man squarely in the eyes as he asked this question.

Murdock quailed before his victim’s reproachful burning glance for Joe had correctly surmised the dark plot he had in view.

His nervousness only lasted a moment for he quickly recovered.

“Fool!” he hissed, getting enraged at the thought that his wicked scheme was suspected. “How dare you hint that I’d do such a thing?”

“Because I know you are a villain.”

“What!” roared Murdock, furiously. “You insult me. I’ll pound the life out of you, you infernal young scoundrel!”

And he sprang at the boy and dealt him a savage blow that knocked him over upon the floor, rushed up to him and began to kick him about the head.

Weak from past privations, and unable to defend himself, poor Joe groaned in a heart-rending manner, and cried, piteously, as the hot tears ran down his pale, thin cheeks:

“Oh, don’t—don’t, Mr. Murdock!”

“I’ll kill you!” yelled the brute.

“For pity’s sake! Oh, the pain! Stop—I can’t stand it!”

Just then the servant rushed in.

“Shame!” she cried, indignantly.

“Get out of here!” roared Murdock. “I’ll discharge you!”

“If you beat poor Joe any more I’ll have you arrested!” This threat caused the broker to say, hastily:

“He provoked me to it. I don’t intend to hit him again.”

Satisfied with this assurance, the girl went out.

Poor Joe, cut, bleeding and black-and-blue, crept toward the door.

The man glared at him a moment and then hissed:

“Get up, there! Get up, I say! I’ll have a final settlement with you! Put on your hat. It is eight o’clock now. The lawyer who has charge of your money has gone home. He lives out of town. You come with me to his house. You’ll get your money. Then you can clear out of here and never trouble me again.”

“Gladly!” exclaimed Joe, in eager tones.

He knew that with plenty of money he could easily get along in the world and be under no obligations to this fiend.

Murdock scowled at him and prepared to go out.

Hearing them coming the detective left the stoop and got behind an adjacent tree where he was unseen.

He had scarcely concealed himself when he saw Martin Murdock come out with Joe, hail a passing cab, get in and ride away.

The detective had overheard all they said in the parlor, and with his suspicions of the broker aroused, he pursued the cab, resolved to see the termination of the affair.

Murdock did not utter a word to the boy, but kept watching him and deeply thinking over a dark scheme he had in view.

The boy feared this man, but he was so eager to have a final settlement with him that he did not hesitate to go with him.

Reaching the railroad depot they embarked on a train.

“I’ll take him to an unfrequented place and put an end to him!” thought Murdock, grimly. “He stands in my way to nearly a million. The stakes are enormous. It is worth the risk. I’m bound to have the money.”

Unluckily for him, the detective was on the same train.

They were whirled away.

Several hours passed by, when the end of the road was reached.

“Readestown! All out! Last stop!” called the conductor.

Murdock and the boy were the only ones in that car, and they arose, alighted and strode away.

Tom Reynard pursued them.

The place was a noted little city in which dwelt a celebrated young inventor named Frank Reade, Jr.

Skirting the suburbs of the city, Murdock led his victim toward a magnificent big mansion in which dwelt the inventor alluded to.

In the extensive grounds surrounding the house were a number of immense workshops, in which the inventor constructed his marvelous contrivances.

“There’s where the lawyer lives,” Murdock said to the boy, as he pointed at the mansion, although he had never been in Readestown before.

This information allayed any suspicions the poor boy might have had, and as the surroundings were isolated, the place seemed to favor the murderous design the man had in view.

They strode toward the mansion and paused at the gate.

“You wait here for me,” said Murdock. “I’ll go in and see if the lawyer is home. I’ll call you in if I find him.”

“All right,” the boy replied, in low, sad tones.

He leaned against the gate post with an oppressive feeling at heart and the gloomiest forebodings in his mind.

It almost seemed as if he had a subtle premonition of his fate.

Murdock entered the grounds and stole away in the shrubbery.

He came to a pause and listened intently, then keenly peered around without hearing or seeing anybody.

The wretch was intensely excited and as pale as death, while upon his brow there stood great beads of perspiration.

He fully realized what he was going to do.

There was not an extenuating thing to excuse him.

From where he crouched he could plainly see the boy.

He drew a revolver from his hip-pocket, his hand shaking as if palsied, and deliberately aimed at the poor boy.

Bang!

“Oh, God, I’m shot!” shrieked Joe.

Murdock rushed to his victim.

Poor little Joe fell to the ground.

The assassin thrust the pistol in his stiffening fingers.

He designed to lend the crime an appearance of suicide.

But Tom Reynard had seen the whole deed, and came rushing up to the villain and his victim, too late to stop the crime or be of any service.

“You murderer!” cried the detective.

“I’m caught!” hoarsely muttered Murdock.

He struck the detective with the pistol, knocked him senseless, and hearing footsteps approaching he rushed away.

Down from the house rushed Frank Reade, Jr., alarmed by the pistol shot, and seeing the detective was stunned he knelt down beside the boy.

Poor Joe was dead, to all appearances.

CHAPTER II.
THE ENGINE OF THE CLOUDS.

Frank Reade, Jr., was a dashing young man of distinguished appearance, attired in fashionable clothing.

He was noted for his wonderful skill at inventing electrical and mechanical wonders of various kinds.

In this work he was ably assisted by a diminutive negro, named Pomp, and a rollicking, red-headed Irishman, called Barney O’Shea, who invariably were his traveling companions on the trips he made with his inventions.

Judging that the boy was beyond all recovery, and deeming it wisest to pay first attention to the living, Frank lifted the detective up and carried him into the house.

He met the coon and the Celt running toward him.

“Gorramighty!” panted Pomp. “Wha’ de trouble, Marsa Frank?”

“I found this senseless man and a dead boy at the gate just now!”

“Be heavens, it’s a bloody murdher, then!” exclaimed Barney.

“So it seems. Help me in with this fellow till we revive him.”

They carried Reynard into the sitting-room, laid him down, and seeing his badge, discovered that he was a detective.

Restoratives were applied and he began to revive, upon observing which Frank went out to get the dead boy.

When he reached the gate, to his amazement he found that the body of little Joe Crosby had mysteriously disappeared.

Frank hunted all over, but failed to find it.

Completely at a loss to account for the mysterious disappearance, he returned to the house and told his friends about it.

Reynard had recovered.

Sitting on the sofa, he heard that the body was gone.

Then he told Frank and his friends what had occurred.

As soon as they heard the story they realized that a brutal crime had been perpetrated by an avaricious, unscrupulous rascal, who ought to be punished for his sin.

“I’d better apprise the local authorities of the deed and the strange loss of the body,” said Frank, briskly. “In the meantime, Mr. Reynard, you had better try to find Martin Murdock.”

“Holy smoke! Here’s a daisy game!” the detective replied. “Your head’s level, Mr. Reade. I’m off. You’ll hear from me again!”

And away he went.

Frank followed him out.

He went to inform the police.

It was then nearly eleven o’clock.

Barney and Pomp had been in the workshop putting the finishing touches on a new flying machine Frank invented.

Everything was completed, but in their hurried exit they had left the electric arc lights lit in the shop.

When the inventor was gone the Irishman said to Pomp:

“D’yer moind yer wor afther lavin’ ther loights lit in ther shop.”

“Me?” said the coon. “G’way! ‘Twarn’t me, honey. Yo’ done it.”

“Go an’ turrun thim out, naygur!”

“Won’t do nuffin’ ob de kine.”

“Neither will I, me jewel.”

“When Marse Frank come back he gwine ter git mad.”

“Shure, you’re a dead man, then, fer I’ll blame it on you.”

“An’ I’se gwine ter say dat yo’ done did it, chile.”

“Ther two av us will get it in ther neck, then.”

“Dunno ‘bout dat, I’ish,” said Pomp. “If I’se got ter go, yo’ go, too!”

And so saying, he suddenly grabbed Barney by the nape of his neck and the slack of his pants, and rushed him into the yard.

Away they scudded across the garden toward the shops, the Irishman unable to stop himself, and Pomp grinning and chuckling over the advantage he had gained.

“Whoop!” yelled Barney, as his legs flew along. “Begorry, I’ll have yer scalp fer this, ye puckered-up hyaena!”

“Cl’ar de track!” roared the delighted coon. “Heah come de cyclone! Golly, what a roast, Barney!”

Propelling the Celt before him, he reached the half-closed door of the shop, slammed Barney against it with a bang, causing it to fly open, and barked his nose on the panel.

“Murdher!” raved the Celt. “Faix, me bugle is bushted!”

“Put on de brakes!” howled the coon.

Then he hauled off with his big foot and gave a Barney a boost that landed him on his ear in the middle of the big room.

Unluckily for the dusky practical joker he tripped over a plank and landed on top of the Irishman with a thud.

The next moment Barney had him by the leg, dragged him over to a tackle hanging from the wall, secured the hook around the coon’s ankle and hoisted him up by the rope.

When Pomp’s woolly head cleared the ground Barney tied the rope to a cleat and picked up a barrel stave.

“Watch me droive him troo ther wall!” he roared.

It was now his turn to chuckle and laugh.

Pomp began to look sick.

Around swished the stave over the coon’s coat-tail.

Whang!

Bang!

Plunk!

Thump!

For reports like pistol shots pealed out as Barney brought the stave down upon the coon’s anatomy.

A bellow ripped from between Pomp’s thick, blubbery lips.

“Fo’ de Lawd’s sake, stop dat!” he yelled, frenetically.

“Yer will ploog me wid yer fut, hey?” roared Barney.

Then he soaked the coon again.

Whack!

Crack!

Biff!

Boom!

Pomp squirmed, roared, and suddenly grabbed his tormentor.

“Unfasten me dar!” he howled, as he pinched the Irishman. “If yo’ doan done it I’se gwine ter chaw yer, honey!”

“Holt on!” yelled Barney, in tones of agony. “Bad cess to yer, it’s a choonk yez will take out av me entoirely. Lave aff, yer bottle-nosed gorilla, or I’ll go around on a crootch!”

“No, sir! No, sir! Not’ll yo’ luf me down yere.”

“Yis! Yis!” howled Barney, complying. “Ouch, me leg! Whoo—oh—oh!”

The moment Barney let go the rope he tore himself free and rushed out of the shop, pursued by the coon.

In the middle of the big room stood Frank’s new invention.

It was formed like a sharp-prowed ship, and was made of aluminum.

There was an air-rudder at the bow and a water-screw and rudder at the stern, while the deck was railed in.

From the bow projected a long ram, while at the stern were two enormous air-propellers, one larger than the other.

Two turrets crowned the deck, with tubes rising from their roofs, on top of which were a pair of tremendous helices.

From one tube to the other ran two more horizontal tubes, between which were ranged five more big helices.

These helices were revolved, as were the other wheels, by a strong current of electricity, to lift the engine up in the air.

In the forward turret, which was designed for the steersman, stood a powerful electric searchlight, and in the midship section a circular deck-house, pierced by doors and bull’s-eyes.

It was a remarkable-looking machine, the material and mechanism of which combined extreme lightness with the greatest of strength.

As Frank had built other flying machines with mechanical parts similar to those employed in this one, which had proven successful, he was sure this one would operate.

The young inventor had returned from police headquarters when Pomp chased Barney out into the yard, and going between the practical jokers he separated them.

Both were forced to shake hands and go to bed, and the inventor turned out the lights and followed them.

On the following day Frank received reports from the police, from time to time, but nothing was found of the missing body of poor little Joe Crosby.

Toward nightfall Tom Reynard returned to Readestown.

He made his way at once to Frank’s house, and meeting the celebrated inventor in his library, he asked him:

“Well, have you found the corpse?”

“No. The police have hunted all over but failed.”

“How strange! Suppose some one stole it—probably medical students, who want it for dissection. I’ve got bad news.”

“What is it?” asked Frank, curiously.

“Learned that Martin Murdock returned to Chicago last night. To-day he drew a small fortune in money from his bank, went to New York and started for Europe in the trans-Atlantic steamer Red Star.”

“So he escaped you, eh?”

“Yes. He knows that his crime is exposed, and wants to escape arrest. He’s got plenty money to do it, too. But I’ve telegraphed on to Liverpool to the police to hold him on a charge of murder. I’ve got a warrant to arrest him on that charge and am going after him.”

“He may suspect your design, and give you the slip.”

“Yes, I know. Such a daisy game has been played before. But it’s the best I can do,” said the detective.

“I know a surer way than that to catch him.”

“How? How?” eagerly asked Reynard.

“Chase him in my new flying machine. Heard of it?”

“Yes. The papers mentioned that you had such an invention.”

“My interest in the case is excited. Do you want to do it?”

“I’d be delighted, if you’ll allow me to.”

“Oh, I want a use to put the engine of the clouds to, and as this is a good one I’ll see if I can’t aid the ends of justice with the machine.”

“Good! When shall we start?”

“The day after to-morrow. As we can make one hundred miles an hour through the sky in her, we are bound to soon overhaul the steamer. We have only to provision and equip the engine now.”

The four set to work at once on the airship.

By the second day she was ready, and they all embarked.

Frank entered the forward turret, the machinery was started, the helices whirled, and the engine arose and passed through the open roof of the shop and shot up into the sky.

CHAPTER III.
A STOWAWAY.

The sun was going down in the west when the Pegasus, as the engine of the clouds was named, rose above Readestown.

Her seven big helices were whirling around with a loud, buzzing sound, and lifting her at the rate of a yard a second.

A shout arose from the people thronging the streets when they observed the flight of the engine, and as the news spread, every one in the city watched the ascension with deep interest.

Barney and Pomp had gone into the deck-house and hastened below to watch the working of the machinery.

Left alone on deck, the detective observed that the Pegasus rode as steadily as if she rested on flanges upon the ground.

At a height of 2,000 feet Frank slackened the speed of the helices until they whirled just fast enough to hold the engine at the desired altitude.

The detective then joined him in the turret.

“Holy smoke! This is a daisy contrivance!” he exclaimed.

“She works just as I designed she should,” replied Frank.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Drive her out over the Atlantic.”

“In the teeth of this gale?”

“Certainly.”

There were several levers in front of the steering wheel beside the compass binnacle, and Frank pulled one of them.

Like the rest this lever was connected with the machinery, and it made an electrical circuit with the driving screw motor, causing them to rotate.

The screws acted upon the air as a metal propeller does in the water, and the engine glided ahead.

Frank glanced at several dials on the wall.

They registered, measured and gauged the different parts of the airship, while various other instruments kept the temperature, gave the altitude, velocity of the wind and so on.

“This is marvelous!” the detective cried, enthusiastically.

“You can feel her advance against the wind,” said Frank, “but when we are going with it at the rate of one hundred miles an hour you would scarcely think we were moving.”

“How can you go with the wind?”

“Why, the atmospheric envelope of the earth consists of numerous stratas, or air currents that blow in all directions,” replied Frank. “If I were in a balloon and had no means of guidance but plenty ballast and lots of gas I could steer it as well as if I had a rudder. This could be done by alternately raising or lowering the balloon into currents of air blowing in the directions I wished to pursue.”

“Ain’t that queer!”

“It is perfectly natural. Now there is a strata called the Solar Current, which blows constantly from the west to the east at a very high altitude. I could send a balloon completely around the world by remaining poised in that current. As it is so high up, however, we cannot make use of it, for we would be at such a great elevation we could not see the steamer Red Star if we met it.”

Just then Barney came in.

“How is the machinery?” Frank asked him.

“Faix, it do be wurkin’ as shlick as a phwistle!” replied the Celt. “An’ I suspishey that she’ll be afther gallopin’ troo ther clouds beyant wid the agility av a kangaroo.”

“Take charge of the wheel and hold her due east. I’ll run down below and observe the actions of her dynamo and machinery myself.”

He beckoned the detective to follow him.

Leaving Barney steering, they went out on deck.

The panorama of the landscape below looked like an enormous oil painting.

Everything took on the most diminutive size, and in the far distance they caught sight of the great lakes.

The intense solitude was occasionally broken by the shrill blasts of steam whistles in factories and locomotives, the clang of bells and other loud, distinct sounds.

A few high-flying birds were seen circling around not far away, and a strong wind was vainly opposing the engine.

Passing into the deck-house Frank and the detective found themselves in a room used for a cabin.

On one side stood a row of bunks, and at the other a staircase leading down below.

A door in the partition gave access to a combined kitchen and dining saloon over which Pomp presided as cook.

Every room was fitted up with incandescent electric lamps and pony motor fan-wheels, while the furnishing was luxurious.

Descending the stairs they found themselves in the hold.

It was divided into three compartments.

The one forward was a general storeroom for tools, arms, ammunition, duplicate parts of the engine and similar things; the next room contained food and water enough for a long trip, and the rear compartment held the machinery.

It was a simple arrangement.

The base of each helix shaft was furnished with a powerful motor which only required an electric current to turn it.

This current was derived from a small, light dynamo, which in turn was operated by an oil engine.

The same engine and dynamo gave power to the electric lighting machine, and a large motor connected with the machinery which revolved the screw shaft.

Should the occasion require, the power could be turned into a small motor, to which the water screw was coupled, for work in the sea, if they desired to navigate the water.

Pomp was busy oiling the bearings when Frank and his companion entered the engine-room.

“Barney says everything is satisfactory, Pomp,” said Frank.

“Spec’s it am, sah,” grinned the coon. “She done buck de win’?”

“Like a battering ram. I’ll examine her.”

“Fo’ shuah, honey.”

The inventor began his inspection.

He had not looked far before he received a tremendous shock of surprise.

Crouching in a corner behind a barrel of oil he caught sight of a man, who, by some means, had stowed himself away on the engine.

“By thunder, a stowaway!” he cried.

“Holy smoke!” gasped Reynard. “Here’s a daisy game!”

“Fo’ de Lawd sake, whar am he?” demanded Pomp, in startled tones.

Frank pounced upon the man, caught him by the back of the neck and hauled him out of his covert.

A cry of alarm escaped the fellow upon finding himself discovered, and he rose to his feet with a scared look.

He was a man of about thirty, attired in a seedy suit of clothes, a dilapidated stove-pipe hat, and wore a brown beard and mustache.

“Oh!” he roared, struggling to break away from Frank. “Don’t touch me. I’m crazy! Look out! I bite! Ha! ha! See the demons. The air is full of them! Back, you imps, back I say!”

He put up his fists and began to punch wind.

A cynical smile crossed Frank’s face.

“So you’re looney, eh?” he asked, sarcastically.

“Completely off my base!” asserted the man, confidentially.

“You lie! You are simply pretending to be a crank in order to avoid punishment.”

“That’s a daisy game!” laughed the detective.

“Oh, but you’re mistaken!” said the man, in injured tones. “I just escaped from the asylum. I’m a dead bug; on the level, I am.”

“What induced you to enter my shop and stow yourself away aboard of this airship—a desire to navigate the clouds?”

“No,” replied the stranger. “You carried me up before I could get off again. I—hey! Give me that——”

“What is this book?” queried Frank, hauling it out of the man’s pocket and glancing at the pages.

The man strove to snatch it away, but Frank was too quick for him and prevented it.

One glance at the contents was enough for him—the book was filled with drawings of the mechanism of the airship.

“He’s a thief!” cried Frank, flushing with indignation. “He has simply come aboard to steal my patents. Here is the proof!”

He held up the book to the view of his companions.

The man slunk back with a scowl of alarm on his face, for he realized that his real motive was betrayed, and that all the contradictions he could make would be of no avail in the face of such damaging evidence.

For a moment a deep silence ensued.

“Holy snake!” ejaculated the detective. “That’s a daisy game!”

“Frow de dirty white trash overboard!” indignantly roared Pomp.

Frank tore the book to pieces and flung the fragments out one of the windows, after which he turned to the man and said:

“Your treachery shall be severely punished, sir.”

“But I’m a maniac!” protested the fellow, in a vain attempt to convince them that he was not accountable for his actions. “I’m covered with snakes! Take ‘em off! Don’t you see ‘em squirming?”

Frank caught him by the neck, interrupting him.

“That will do!” he cried, angrily. “Insane people don’t usually do such very practical and profitable things as you have done. Consider yourself my prisoner, sir.”

“I’ll be hanged if I will!”

“You can’t escape from here.”

“I can’t, eh? Well, I’ll own the engine!”

As he said this a desperate light leaped into his eyes and he pulled a knife from his breast-pocket.

Making a rush at Frank he aimed a stab at him, which the young inventor barely had time to avoid by stepping back.

Pomp picked up an iron bar and the detective drew his revolver and aimed it at the man.

Seeing the peril he was in the rascal rushed for the stairs, pursued by the three, and dashed up to the cabin.

Out on deck he ran like a deer.

Frank and his companions followed him.

He headed for the pilot-house, and flinging open the door he dashed into the room behind Barney.

CHAPTER IV.
A LIGHT FROM THE SKY.

Barney heard the man rush into the room, and glancing around he was thunderstruck to see the stranger.

Moreover, his amazement was increased by observing that the man had a wild, hunted look on his face and a knife in his hand.

“Be heavens, it’s a stranger!” he gasped.

“If you budge an inch I’ll run this knife in your heart!” hissed the man.

“Faix, I’ll not boodge a quarther av an inch!” replied Barney.

“Tell your friends to keep back or you are a dead man!”

“Shtand back as far as ther sturrun, fellies!” roared Barney. “Ther further back yez goes ther safer me loife will be!”

Frank and his companions heard this cry.

It brought them to a pause, for they realized that Barney was in danger.

A consultation was held to devise a means of getting the man into their power and saving Barney.

“See here,” said the stranger to the Irishman.

“I’m luckin’, yer honor,” replied the Celt.

“Lower the engine to the ground so I can alight.”

“I will; only kape that knife away. Begorry, it makes a cowld chill floy up an’ down me backbone whin ther p’int tooches me.”

And Barney slackened the revolutions of the helices.

The engine began to rapidly descend.

In a short time she was near the ground.

“Now tell your friends to enter the cabin.”

“Masther Frank, dear!” roared Barney.

“What do you want?”

“Go beyant inter ther cabin, d’yer moind?”

“What for?”

“This spalpeen do be wishin’ to escape wid no bullets in him!”

“Is your life in danger, Barney?”

“Faix, I’m widin wan inch av bein’ a coorpse!”

“Then we’ll go in.”

“Go, and God bless yer sowl!”

Frank and his companions returned to the cabin.

Peering out the door the stowaway saw that the coast was clear.

“If you attempt to turn your head before I am off this engine,” said he, in threatening tones, “I’ll cut your heart out!”

“Faith, I have a shtiff neck, an’ couldn’t turrun it if I thried!” lied Barney.

The man shook his knife at Barney, and glided out on deck, for by this time the machine was within a few feet of the open ground.

No sooner was he out of the room when as quick as a flash Barney turned a heavy current of electricity into the boat’s hull.

“She’s electrified!” he yelled to his friends.

They heard, and understood him, and remained in the cabin out of danger.

Not so the stranger.

His shoes insulated his feet.

But no sooner did he grasp the railing to go overboard when he received a powerful shock that made him yell.

Both hands grasped the railing, convulsively, and he could not let go.

“Oh! Ouch! Oh-h-h-h!” he yelled, wildly.

“Bedad, I have him!” roared Barney, delightedly.

“Stop it!” screamed the stranger. “I’m a dead man! I’m a dead man!”

“Faith, I’ll take yer measure for a coffin!” chuckled Barney.

“Let up there, will you? Oh! oh! oh!”

“Divil a bit! It’s electrocuted I’ll have yez in wan minute!”

The man raved, swore, begged and wept.

Barney kept the current on, though.

Finally Frank cried:

“That will do. He’s punished enough.”

“I’ll let him go, then,” returned the Irishman.

He cut out the current.

As soon as the stowaway found himself relieved he gave a jump, flew over the rail and landing on the ground below he rolled over and over in the dust.

Getting upon his feet he sped away.

Frank and the rest then emerged from the cabin and Barney sent the machine up in the air again.

She resumed her journey and the man below was soon lost to view in a woods.

“Fer ther love av hiven, what do it all be manin’?” asked the Celt.

“He was a stowaway, stealing my patent,” Frank replied.

“Troth, an’ it wuz a blackguard he made av himself, entoirely.”

“He didn’t gain anything by his rascality.”

“How hoigh up shall I be afther sindin’ the Pegasus?”

“One thousand feet will do.”

“It’s that same now.”

“Then drive her ahead!”

Barney complied, and by nightfall they reached the ocean.

A watch was maintained for the steamer Red Star all night, and the engine of the clouds mounted higher to avoid a rain storm, and sped along on the course of European bound vessels.

Several craft were seen during the night.

But none was the steamer they sought.

On the following morning Pomp cooked a dainty breakfast for them and all hands went out on deck.

They were then over 500 miles from land.

Below them stretched an endless expanse of water, while above the sky was clear and blue.

Pomp had assumed control of the wheel, and the engine floated half a mile above the sea.

She was making eighty miles an hour, and going with a strong breeze from the southwest.

The detective was an inveterate smoker, and having lit a fragrant cigar, was puffing away at it.

“How far are we from the steamer?” he asked Frank.

“From three to four hundred miles,” the inventor replied.

“And how long will it take to gain that distance?”

“About ten hours.”

“Then you think we will meet the Red Star to-day?”

“Very likely by six o’clock to-night.”

“She will be nearly half way across the ocean——”

“No, not more than quarter the distance.”

This news seemed to please the detective very much.

“We are bound to catch Martin Murdock before he reaches the other side, it seems!” he remarked.

“Provided no accident occurs to prevent it. How strange that poor little Joe Crosby’s body disappeared.”

“I have an opinion about that.”

“What is it?”

“Murdock was probably lurking near the spot where the boy fell, shot. When you took me into the house he probably returned, carried the corpse away and hid it in order to conceal the evidence of his crime.”

“That’s a reasonable supposition, but how did you secure the warrant for the man’s arrest?”

“By swearing that I saw him murder the boy.”

“Did you witness the deed?”

“Yes, I stood only fifty feet away.”

“Then we will have no trouble to take him.”

Just then Barney came out and joined them.

He carried an old fiddle upon which he was used to playing, and struck up a lively reel.

Pomp had a banjo in the pilot-house.

Hearing the scraping of the violin he fastened the wheel, and picking up the instrument he began to play a rattling accompaniment to the Irishman’s tune.

“Be ther hokey this is foine!” chuckled Barney, with a grin.

“Bress de lamb!” roared Pomp, in the turret. “Saw away dar, honey, saw away! I’se a-plunkin’, I is, an’ dar am gwin fo’ ter be music in de air if dis yere coon knows heself.”

“Bedad, it’s out av tune yez are entoirely!” cried the Celt. “G’way, chile! Dis ole pianner am all right. Yo’ bettah go learn how ter scrape dat dar ole caliope befo’ yo’ done try ter play tunes.”

“Watch me rattle ther spalpeen!” grinned Barney.

He suddenly changed the reel into a slow hymn, and no sooner did the coon change his accompaniment when the Celt switched off into a waltz.

Before Pomp could fairly get started into different keys and different tunes, off went Barney into still different tunes.

It made Frank and Reynard laugh at the coon, and they heard him swear, and twang and thump away wildly.

At times the air and accompaniment harmonized and were timed alike, when suddenly Barney would flip from fast to slow time, leaving the coon thumping away furiously.

Then when the darky played slowly off went the fiddle at a tremendous rate, leaving him far behind.

It finally got the moke so wild that he quit playing.

The day passed by uneventfully, and night fell.

Tom Reynard had learned how to manage the Pegasus and stood at the wheel, steering, about eight o’clock, when suddenly he descried several twinkling lights ahead.

“Vessel ahead!” he shouted out the door.

“What do you make her out to be?” cried Frank, running in.

“Holy smoke! how can I make out in this gloom?”

“I’ll direct the searchlight upon her.”

It was very dark down below, but through the gloom Frank plainly saw the twinkling lights on the moving vessel.

He turned the searchlight by means of a lever, so that it was directed toward the vessel.

Then he switched on the electric current.

A broad shaft of light suddenly swept down upon the vessel, lighting her up as if by a big beam of sunlight.

It was a steamship.

A yell of surprise arose from her crew.

They were alarmed and amazed at the brilliant, dazzling glow suddenly shooting down upon them from the sky, and the most marvelous ideas of its origin entered their minds.

Frank leveled a glass at the craft.

“It is the Red Star!” he exclaimed. “I see the name on her bow!”

“Hurrah!” yelled the detective, delightedly. “Now we’ll get Murdock!” and down swooped the air engine toward the speeding steamer.

CHAPTER V.
FOUND AND LOST.

“Steamer ahoy!” shouted Frank.

“Ahoy! What’s that?” was the reply.

“This? An airship.”

“By thunder, I thought it was a comet!”

“I wish to board you.”

“Shall we haul to?”

“No. Hold this ladder.”

Frank dropped a rope ladder down.

Two sailors seized it and held it rigid.

Barney had the wheel, and kept the Pegasus over the steamer.

The detective and Frank descended the ladder to the deck.

Here they were met by the captain, the watch on deck and many of the cabin passengers.

“This is an amazing call,” said the captain.

“We are here on business, sir,” replied Frank.

“That is very strange.”

“Not at all. We have come from Readestown.”

“What! Can it be possible! What for?”

“To make a prisoner of one of your passengers.”

“I am more and more astonished.”

“The man is a murderer!”

A murmur of surprise ran from lip to lip at this remark. When the captain recovered from the shock he asked:

“What is the man’s name?”

“Martin Murdock.”

“Whom did he murder?”

“His stepson, a boy named Joe Crosby.”

“Why was the crime committed?”

“So Murdock could inherit the boy’s fortune.”

“Purser, have we a man of that name aboard?”

“No, sir,” the purser replied, in positive tones.

“Perhaps he has taken a fictitious name,” hinted Reynard.

“True. He had ample reason to,” admitted the captain. “Try to describe him. We might recognize him that way.”

“He is forty, very dark, has a black mustache, and a vivid V-shaped scar on his left cheek,” said the detective.

“Why, that’s Mr. Blank, who occupies stateroom No. 22.”

“Produce him and we will try to identify him.”

“Certainly, if you have a warrant for his arrest.”

“Here it is,” said the detective, exhibiting the paper.

The purser went off in search of Mr. Blank.

In ten minutes he returned empty handed.

The individual in question had vanished.

Every one now started off in search of him, and he was finally discovered hiding in one of the coal bunkers below.

He presented a very dirty and ruffled appearance when they hauled him up on deck, struggling and swearing furiously.

As soon as the detective saw him he cried:

“That’s the man!”

“Sure?” asked the captain.

“I’d swear to it, sir.”

“Take him—he ain’t wanted here.”

“Thank you, sir. Now, then, Murdock——”

The rascal recognized the officer and saw the handcuffs Tom had drawn from his pocket.

He shuddered at the sight of them.

“Spare me!” he gasped.

“No, sir! You are my prisoner!”

“Don’t put those things on me!”

“Will you submit peacefully?”

“Yes, yes! I’ll do anything you order.”

“Climb up that ladder to the airship!” exclaimed the detective.

“Very well,” said Murdock, and up he went.

Frank and Reynard followed him, and the ship sped on.

Pomp received the prisoner.

“Wha’ yo’ gwine ter do wif him?” he asked Frank.

“Lock him up in the storeroom downstairs. He can’t very well escape with Pegasus up in the clouds.”

“Fo’ shuah, sah!” assented the coon.

“Take him down, Pomp.”

“Yes sah!” and off the darky marched the prisoner.

“Our work is almost done now, Reynard.”

“I’m glad we succeeded so easily.”

“Hey, Barney!”

“Yis, sor!”

“Turn the Pegasus around and steer for home.”

“Bedad, it’s the great man-hunters we bees,” said the Irishman.

The airship mounted the clouds and retraced her course.

Every one was jubilant over their success.

They discussed the capture until bedtime, and finally turned in.

Frank and Barney remained on duty.

About ten o’clock the inventor suddenly said:

“I’m going down to have a talk with the prisoner.”

“Faix, it’s bad company you’ll be kapin’, sor.”

“I wish to learn the facts about Joe Crosby.”

“Ther facts, is it?”

“Yes—what Murdock did with his victim’s body.”

“Shure, an’ he’ll not tell yer.”

“I’ll try him, anyhow.”

Frank passed down below as he said this and made his way to the storeroom.

He found the door broken open.

Going in he saw that the prisoner was not there.

Very much startled Frank searched all over for the man, but soon discovered that he was not aboard the Pegasus.

A long drag-rope hung down from the side.

Its end almost trailed in the sea, as the engine of the clouds had been lowered to within a few hundred feet of the ocean to get her out of a dense cloud bank.

One of the four life-preservers was gone.

It was clear that Martin Murdock had broken from the room, took a life-preserver, went up on deck unseen, lowered the drag-rope and slid down to the sea.

It was, he calculated, safer to trust himself to the mercy of the ocean than remain aboard the Pegasus, be carried back to Chicago and have to answer to a charge of murder.

Seeing how matters stood, Frank returned to Barney and explained what had happened.

“Be heavens, he’s as slippery as an eel!” groaned the Celt.

“Stop the engine and retrace your course!”

“Is it a sarch fer him yez would have me make?”

“By all means. Drop her down near the sea.”

“May the aould Nick floy away wid there spalpeen.”

“By an effective use of the searchlight we may find him.”

“You kape watch, Masther Frank.”

Barney lowered the engine and flashed the light down on the sea, the surface of which he swept with it.

Armed with a powerful glass Frank scanned the water everywhere the light struck.

Although they searched and searched everywhere until it was time to arouse the others to relieve them, they failed to find any trace of the missing man.

When Pomp and Reynard were aroused and told what transpired, they were wild with vexation.

“Golly!” cried the coon, “I done lock him in de sto’room, sah, an’ nebber tink ob sich a ting as dot he gwine fo’ ter git out. Bress my soul, if I know dat he git away I’d aslep’ befo’ de do’ wif one eye open de hull night.”

“We’ve had all our trouble in vain,” sighed the detective, dolefully. “Holy smoke! he’s a daisy!”

Just then Frank caught sight of a white object floating in the water and he leveled the glass at it

“A life-preserver!” he muttered. “And bless me if it isn’t the very one Murdock stole from the storeroom. It’s got the name Pegasus upon it. Lower the ship, Pomp!”

The darky obeyed.

She soon reached the surface of the sea.

Frank took a boat hook and hoisted up the life-preserver.

A hunt was made about the vicinity for the man, but they did not find him.

It occurred to them that he was drowned.

A ship was descried in the distance just then.

“He may have been picked up by that vessel,” Frank suggested. “Let’s run up to her and see.”

The coon steered for the ship.

When they arrived within a short distance of her they saw by the searchlight that she was plunging into a fog bank, and Frank viewed her with his glass.

He gave a violent start a moment later.

“The ship May Queen, of Liverpool,” he read on her stern, “and, by heavens, there’s Murdock standing on her deck, surrounded by sailors watching us.”

“Good!” cried the detective. “Follow her, Pomp.”

“Yes, sah!” the coon replied.

He grasped the lever to increase the speed of the engine, when a report pealed from the deck of the boat, and a shot from her signal gun roared out.

It struck the forward tube of the rotascope frame, there sounded a crash as the upright broke, and the next moment the helices all stopped, as the electric wire that gave current to them was severed.

Down into the sea plunged the Pegasus.

A cry of alarm escaped her crew when they felt her falling, and the next moment the ship dissolved from view into the thick fog bank.

Down rushed the Pegasus like a meteor.

She struck the sea with a violent thud.

A shower of brine flew up over her, and the next moment she disappeared from view under the water.

The ship thus escaped, bearing Murdock away.

CHAPTER VI.
FOILED AGAIN.

The Pegasus rose to the surface at once and floated like any ship, but she had taken in considerable water and was badly crippled.

Frank heard a mocking laugh come from amid the fog in the voice of Martin Murdock, as the ship receded.

It filled the inventor with wrath.

“You may escape now!” he shouted, “but I’ll catch you if I have to chase you around the world, Martin Murdock!”

“Fool! You can never catch me!” came the reply.

The voice was so indistinct that Frank realized how useless it would be to protract a conversation.

“Man the pump, Barney!” he cried.

“Yis, sor!” replied the Celt

“Pomp, help me to clear the wreckage.”

“Fo’ de Lawd! am de hull ting busted?”

“I think we may be able to repair it.”

They went up on the turret, and, assisted by Reynard, they took down the broken parts, while Barney was busy pumping out the water the engine shipped.

It was impossible to do anything in the gloom.

As the vessel floated buoyantly, they put her water-screw in motion to give her steerageway, and started off.

She proceeded so slowly in the water, though, that they had no hope of overtaking the ship.

Besides, the fog was so dense they could not see it.

Finally Barney and Frank turned in.

The sea was calm enough and the wind moderate, so they passed a quiet night and met with no accidents.

On the following morning they set to work to repair the damage, and were kept busy all day and far into the succeeding night.

As there were plenty tools and materials on board, they finally succeeded in repairing the damage.

The work was so well done that it would have been very difficult to tell that the machine was broken.

“We can ascend now,” said Frank. “But whether we will overtake that ship or not is an open question.”

“She was heading eastward, wasn’t she?” questioned Reynard.

“Very likely bound for Liverpool, as she came from there.”

“What could have induced her crew to shoot at us?”

“Murdock probably incited them to do it.”

“Be ther hokey, he’s a vilyun!” growled Barney.

“Send her up,” said Frank.

Pulling the helix lever the Celt caused them to revolve, and the engine rose from the sea, dripping water, and mounted up in the air.

Frank carefully watched the spinning wheels.

He could not see any defect in their action, and soon felt confident that they would continue to operate properly.

Up, up the Pegasus soared like a bird on the wing until she reached the lowest strata of clouds.

When she plunged into them the sea was obscured.

She rose above them presently and paused.

Here a glorious scene was observed.

The silvery moonlight streamed down unobstructed upon the sea of clouds beneath the airship.

They had a billowy appearance, their constant movement lending them a strange aspect as the lights and shadows changed from moment to moment.

A soft, dark, velvety gloom filled the vault of Heaven, which was only broken by the vivid points of light emanating from the stars that studded the firmament.

It was a silent region.

The air was very rare and exhilarating.

Having stopped the ascent, Barney started the huge driving wheels revolving, and drove the Pegasus ahead.

She looked like silver as the moonlight slanted upon her white metal hull, and to any one on the ocean must have presented a strange, ghostly look with her electric lamps glowing and her searchlight blazing out far ahead.

All night long she swept along through the dizzy height, and in the morning her dazzling lights went out.

Not a sail was in view below.

Frank was discouraged.

He thought they would overtake the May Queen.

“You ought not feel down-hearted over it,” said the detective, consolingly, although he felt disgusted himself. “She may have changed her course so that we might have passed her.”

“Suppose we head for Liverpool. We can find out all about her there and wait for her to come in.”

“That’s a very sensible plan.”

A rattling sound overhead reached Frank’s car at this moment, and he glanced up at the big stern helix.

A bolt at the top of the post had worked itself loose.

In a few moments it might fly off and injure the wheel.

He hastened below, procured a long-handled wrench and went up the frame to tighten the bolt.

Getting on top of the upper longitudinal girder he reached over the revolving helix and began to tighten the bolt with the long-handled wrench alluded to.

Scarcely had this been done when the rim of the helix caught his jacket as he carelessly leaned too close to it.

The wheel was making rapid revolutions with enormous power, and the next moment tore Frank from his foothold.

Held by the jacket he was whirled around and around furiously by the big wheel.

A cry of consternation escaped him.

At any moment he was liable to be hurled off into space.

His cry was taken up by the rest when they saw the peril of his position.

If the helices were stopped to let him down the entire ship would fall like a stone into the sea.

Frank grasped the braces to sustain himself.

He was getting frightfully dizzy from the swift gyrations.

The Pegasus was then floating at a height of 3,000 feet.

As soon as Barney observed what happened he immediately slackened the speed of the helices.

The flying machine began to descend swiftly.

Slower and slower whirled the wheels, until the engine of the clouds was falling at the rate of 500 feet a minute.

Frank’s brain was in a whirl.

It seemed every instant as if he would lose his senses.

Such a thing would be fatal.

Although the wheel was going much slower, its velocity was yet simply frightful.

It made the inventor sick at his stomach and sent the blood flying through his veins like fire.

His sight failed him and a roaring noise sounded in his ears, his body became cold and numb, and he could scarcely breathe.

Suddenly his fingers relaxed.

He was hurled far out from the wheel.

His body shot through the air like a cannon ball.

In a moment more he struck the water and sank.

Fortunately he was close to the water, and the sudden shock of sinking revived his faculties again.

He sank, and then rose to the surface.

At first he only knew enough to swim, but as his senses gradually returned he finally realized his surroundings.

Glancing around he saw the Pegasus.

She had settled into the water close by, and the screw having been put in motion she glided toward him.

Pomp flung him a rope.

“Cotch dat!” he cried.

“Heave away!” cheerily answered Frank.

“Am yo’ orright, honey?”

“Yes. Only a little dizzy.”

In a moment more he was on the deck.

His coat was torn where the rim of the helix caught it, and he was drenched, but that was all.

While his friends raised the engine in the air he went inside again, put on dry clothing, and took a drink of brandy.

The Pegasus reached the coast of Ireland and went over to Liverpool where she alighted on the suburbs.

Her descent drew a large crowd of people to the spot, but they finally landed her in a private garden at the offer of the owner, where she was kept secluded.

Frank then went to the city.

Here, by dint of inquiry, he learned that the May Queen was coming into the harbor at that moment.

Delighted to hear this, Frank hired a tug and went out to meet the ship.

Going aboard of her he asked the captain, sternly:

“Where’s the man you picked up at sea?”

“Martin Murdock? We met a French steamer and he left us to go aboard of her. She was bound for Havre.”

“Foiled again!” cried Frank, in disgust.

“What did you want of him?”

“He is a murderer.”

“Good Lord! Is that so?”

“Why did you fire at the airship?”

“It frightened us. We did not know what it was until too late. Then we were so scared we fled.”

“Did Murdock pay you for your help?”

“Yes, very handsomely, too; but had we known that he was a fugitive from the law we would have imprisoned him.”

Frank then returned to the tug.

The boat was sent flying back to the city.

Here he made haste to get back to the Pegasus.

Telling his friends what happened, he added:

“Up in the air with her! We must go to Havre after him. Quick, boys, quick!”

CHAPTER VII.
SAVED FROM DEATH.

The airship soared up to the clouds and sped away over Great Britain toward the English Channel.

A tremendous shout arose from the populace who had seen her ascent, and hearing the shouting, Frank thought it was a token of their approval of the engine’s work.

He strode to the rail and doffed his cap.

Again the shout pealed out.

Frank looked perplexed.

It did not sound like a cheer.

Then he heard a faint cry below.

“Help! Help!” was the scream.

It sounded like the voice of a boy, and the inventor glanced down, when, to his amazement, he observed a lad of about fifteen hanging to the drag rope by his hands.

He had been among the spectators.

As the rope swept by he thought it would be great fun to seize it and let the airship lift him up a short distance, when he calculated to let go and drop to the ground again.

Unfortunately the aerostat lifted him up so high before he could carry out the latter part of his resolve, that he found he would very likely kill himself if he relaxed his grip on the rope.

Frank realized at a glance what had occurred.

“Hello, there!” he shouted down at the youngster.

“Save me!” screamed the boy, in terrified tones.

“Don’t let go!”

“I can’t hold on long. My strength is going!”

“Heavens!” muttered Frank, in startled tones.

He knew that only the quickest kind of work would prevent the little fellow from perishing.

It was his peril that caused the crowd to shout.

“Help, Barney!” he shouted.

Glancing at the end of the drag rope he saw that it was securely fastened to a ring bolt in the deck.

Without losing another moment he grasped the rope, swung himself off the deck and rapidly slid down to the boy.

“Hurry—hurry!” the little fellow was groaning.

“Hang on a moment more!” shouted Frank.

Along he slid, so fast that the rope burned the palms of his hands, until he reached the youngster.

Then he reached down and seized him by the collar.

No sooner had he done so when the poor boy’s strength suddenly gave out and he let go the rope.

His hands fell to his side.

Frank bore all his weight with one hand, for with the other he was obliged to sustain himself.

He was very powerful.

Still the strain on his muscles was immense.

Barney had heard his cry, and rushing to the side he looked over and saw how the situation stood.

“Brace up!” cried Frank.

“Oh I’m so dizzy!” groaned the frightened boy.

“You’ll get over it in a moment.”

“I’ll fall—I know I shall!”

“No, you won’t. I’ve got you fast.”

The boy groaned, for he was in a panic.

The strain on Frank’s arm began to tell on him, for the rope was swaying, like the pendulum of a clock, in the wind.

He was so accustomed to great heights that it did not affect him in the least.

But the inexperienced boy felt awful.

“Masther Frank!” yelled Barney. “What’ll I do.”

“Lower the engine as fast as you can!”

Barney rushed to the turret to comply, and a moment later they were flying earthward at an alarming rate.

The boy cried and gasped for breath, and Frank tightened his fingers on his collar and clung to the rope.

Their combined weight at such a great distance from the deck of the Pegasus was so great that it would have been a difficult task for Reynard, Barney and Pomp to haul them up.

Down they shot toward the woods.

It was clear that they would plunge into it.

“Look out now!” shouted Frank, in warning tones.

“I have me oye on the threes!” returned Barney.

“We must leave him here.”

“In a three?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll grade her.”

In a minute more they reached the topmost branches.

Frank watched for a favorable opportunity.

“Can you get home from here?” he asked the boy.

“Yes—yes—anywhere!” panted the little fellow.

“I’ll have to leave you in a tree.”

“I can get to the ground.”

“Here’s the one.”

The Pegasus had drifted to a tall tree with thick upper branches against which they struck.

As the boy grasped a branch Frank let him go.

He clung safely to the branch a moment, and then quickly made his way down to the ground.

Ultimately he got home in safety.

Frank sighed with relief and straightened up.

Winding the rope around one leg he rested himself and then went up, hand over hand, until he reached the deck.

Here his three companions met him with:

“How in thunder did it happen?”

“Whar de kid come from, honey?”

“Be heavens, it wor dead I thought yez was.”

In a few words Frank detailed the circumstance and they returned to the pilot-house.

Here Reynard resumed the management of the wheel.

The engine returned to the clouds and they finally reached the English channel and crossed over to Havre.

Here a descent was made.

Then a thought flashed across Frank’s mind that brought a cry of bitter disappointment from his lips.

“Why, what’s the trouble?” asked Reynard, in surprise.

“In my haste I forgot to ask the captain of the ship the name of the steamer Murdock went on.”

“Holy smoke! That’s a daisy mistake!”

“Now we’ll have trouble, I’m afraid.”

“Very likely. All that will save us will be inquires.”

They brought the engine to the ground in the country.

It was long after midnight.

Nothing could then be done, so they turned in.

On the following morning Frank proceeded to the city.

He was a good linguist and made inquiries at the Custom House about the incoming steamers.

Three were expected that day, he learned, and none had come in the day previous.

It was therefore very fair to presume that the fugitive was on one of the several that were expected.

His next move was to apprise the prefect of police that there was an American murderer on board of one of the vessels expected, and ask his aid to secure the man.

The request was granted.

Officers armed with warrants and a description of the man were posted to wait for Murdock, with Frank.

The entire day thus passed away.

In the morning one of the vessels came in and in the afternoon another, but Murdock was not on either of them.

It was late in the night when the third ship made the port, and feeling sure that his man was aboard, Frank and the officers went out and boarded her.

A search was made among the passengers, but he was not found among them.

Frank then spoke to the captain, asking him:

“Did you take a man from a ship off the British coast?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the captain. “He was an American.”

“Where is he now?”

“Left the vessel.”

“What!”

“Yes. He paid to be set ashore at Cherbourg.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Not a word.”

Frank returned to his friends and told them the news.

It was very exasperating, but the detective said:

“Let’s cross the bay of the Seine and inquire about him. We may get on his trail yet.”

This plan was carried out.

In a short time afterwards the aerostat landed near the city, and Frank left her again.

He soon came hastening back, his face aglow with pleasure, and cried, as he got aboard:

“I’ve discovered what became of him!”

“Where is he?” eagerly asked the detective.

“On the rail. He purchased a compartment on a train which will carry him to Marseilles, in the south of France.”

“Good! Has he been gone long?”

“Five hours ahead of us.”

“It would be hard to tell which train it is if we met it.”

“Very true; but I know when it is due at its destination to-morrow, and we have only to go ahead, and as we can easily pass him we will get there ahead of the cars. When the train arrives we’ll be waiting for him.”

“He may trick us again.”

“Perhaps, but he don’t know we are after him, and therefore will not look for us,” said Frank.

The Pegasus started off again.

CHAPTER VIII.
BAFFLED AGAIN AND AGAIN.

The engine of the clouds reached Marseilles five hours ahead of the train on which Martin Murdock was riding.

Frank knew what time the cars were due.

In Cherbourg he had met a Custom House inspector who saw the man land from the steamer, and purchase his railroad ticket for the south of France.

The Pegasus was landed late in the afternoon, and the young inventor went to the railroad depot.

When the train came in he saw Murdock alight.

Coming up behind the man and clapping a hand on his shoulder, Frank exclaimed:

“Martin Murdock, you are my prisoner!”

“Blast it, the inventor!” gasped the man, in startled tones.

He turned around, glared at Frank a moment and then clapped his hand to his hip-pocket to draw a revolver.

The inventor was as quick as he was.

In a moment they were aiming at each other.

A shout of alarm escaped the people around, and they scattered in all directions, fearful of being shot.

A deep silence ensued.

Then Frank said:

“You must submit!”

“Never!” determinedly replied Murdock.

“I am bound to take you.”

“Not while I can resist, sir.”

Without the least warning Murdock fired.

The bullet grazed Frank’s head and he staggered.

Murdock dashed out into the street and ran away.

Recovering himself, Frank rushed after him, but the villain jumped into a carriage and was whirled away.

The vehicle went toward the water front.

Frank ran along after it, holding a handkerchief to his head where a wound had been inflicted.

The carriage soon distanced him.

He afterwards met it coming back and hailed the driver.

“Does monsieur wish to ride?”

“Yes. Here’s a five-dollar piece.”

“Monsieur is very generous.”

“You can have it if you carry me to where you just took the man.”

“Certainly. Step into the carriage.”

Frank did so, and was whirled away.

The driver took him to a pier.

Here he paused, and as Frank alighted, he said:

“Monsieur, here is where I carried my last fare.”

“Where did he go?”

“He boarded a North German Lloyd steamer which was just getting ready to put out to sea, bound for Alexandria.”

“Gone?”

“Yes.”

Frank was fairly stunned.

It was marvelous how the fugitive escaped him.

He was certainly the slipperiest customer Frank ever met.

It seemed as if he were pursued by the most extraordinary good luck in all his ventures to escape.

Telling the driver to take him back to where he had left the Pegasus, the inventor asked if he knew the name of the steamer, and the cabman replied:

“It was the Khedive.”

He then drove Frank away.

Rejoining his companions, Frank told them the news.

It made them wild.

But the detective said, consolingly:

“If he’s on that steamer we’ll soon overtake him. He can’t dodge us there as he could on land.”

“True,” assented Frank. “Let us follow him.”

He was just about to go aboard when a number of gendarmes came running up to him.

Frank was surrounded.

“You are my prisoner, sir!” said one of them.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Frank, in surprise.

“You were dueling with a man at the railroad depot.”

“No, no! He was a criminal whom I strove to capture.”

“I care not what he was; you are under arrest.”

Frank was intensely annoyed.

But it could not be helped.

So he had to submit.

He tried to explain to the prefect, but that dignitary was a very crabbed old martinet, and locked him up.

Frank was kept in durance vile for several days, and his friends had to produce proof by telegraph from Havre that the chief of police there sanctioned Frank’s work.

The inventor was then reluctantly released from custody.

His friends bore him off in triumph.

They lost no time getting aboard the Pegasus and sending her up into the air after that.

As she sped away over the beautiful blue sea Frank said:

“It seems as if fate were against us. We have lost three days. It will be impossible to reach Alexandria, in time to beat the steamer. I’m afraid Murdock has got the best of us.”

“Holy smoke! you ought to be glad you got out!” said the detective. “I was afraid you’d go to prison. Don’t complain. We must make the best of the bad situation.”

“Begorra,” said Barney, “it’s a long chase he do be afther givin’ us, an’ me a-thinkin’ that we’d only have ter catch ther spalpeen on ther say whin he tuck ther forst shtaimer.”

“Gwine ter run us all de way roun’ de worl’!” growled Pomp, angrily. “Spec we won’t cotch him eben den.”

They were all provoked, surprised and nettled over the persistence with which the rascal eluded them.

Several days passed by.

The Pegasus crossed Italy and Turkey, and going over the Mediterranean in the night the Pharos was sighted.

The flying machine sank down over the ships in the harbor, and the searchlight flashed down upon them.

All the crews were frightened.

Frank carefully examined every one of the ships until he found the one he wanted.

It was the Khedive.

Over her the airship paused.

Down she sank until she was close beside the steamer.

Barney did not let her sink into the water, but held her so that the two decks were flush with each other.

All the watch on the German steamer’s deck had seen the airship come down.

They now crowded to the side, and, staring at her in amazement, they began asking questions about her.

Frank satisfied their curiosity, and then asked them:

“When did your ship come in?”

“Yesterday,” was the reply of the mate.

“Did you have a passenger named Murdock from Marseilles?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“We wish to see him on business.”

“Describe the man.”

Frank did so.

When he finished the mate said:

“We did have such a man aboard.”

“Boarded you without baggage just as you left port?”

“Yes, that’s the man, but he has gone, of course.”

“Do you know where?”

“To Jerusalem, in a boat for Jaffa.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, for our captain went with him.”

Frank questioned the mate at some length further, and having thanked him for his information, he saw that a large number of boats were approaching.

The crews were curious about the strange airship.

Foreseeing that he would be pestered by them, Frank went into the pilot-house and raised the engine 500 feet.

She then sped away.

“We know where the villain has gone, at any rate,” said Frank, grimly. “By to-morrow we will reach the Dead Sea in Palestine, and meet the beggar in the Holy Land.”

“He probably imagines he has escaped us now,” said the detective, “although he must know that we mean to dog him if we have to go all around the world to catch him.”

Barney and Pomp turned in.

The engine glided smoothly along, and reaching the land she headed for the Jordan River.

By daybreak she reached Jerusalem.

Hovering over the ancient city she excited the wonder of the entire population who rushed from the houses.

They were a strange mixture of Turks, Arabs and Egyptians and looked upon the Pegasus as something supernatural.

The airship sank down until she hovered over the house tops, and Frank went out on deck.

In a square below he observed several white men dressed like himself, and among them a stout German in the blue uniform and brass buttons of a ship captain.

As soon as Frank’s glance rested upon this man he came to the conclusion that he was the captain of the Khedive.

To assure himself, he shouted, in German:

“Hey, captain, we have just come from your steamer at Alexandria!”

“You don’t say so!” replied the other, in surprise.

Then he began asking the usual questions about the Pegasus, her object and so forth.

“The man we want is with you!” said the inventor.

“Oh, no,” replied the captain. “He was with me.”

“And where is he now?”

“Left him last night with a caravan bound for Bagdad.”

“Thwarted again, by thunder!” cried Frank, in disgust.

CHAPTER IX.
THE OASIS IN THE DESERT.

It was broiling hot when the engine of the clouds flew over the Syrian Desert toward the Dehanah Mountains.

There was scarcely a breath of air stirring, there came a dreadful glare from the sand, and a deep silence prevailed.

Pomp sent the machine high in the sky to avoid the smothering heat radiated by the ground.

The rest were at breakfast.

Far in the distance stood an oasis in the desert.

It consisted of a few rocks around a wady, or reservoir of spring water, several gaunt palms, a little grass, and a small number of dark green bushes.

The caravans of mules and camels usually march at night to avoid the heat, and rest by day in these oases, if any are found.

Pomp knew this.

He therefore concluded that the caravan they sought for might be there, and steered the Pegasus toward it.

As the machine drew nearer to it he caught sight of several white tents pitched among the trees.

There now remained no doubt in his mind about the place being an encampment of the natives.

Indeed, a few moments afterwards he discerned the figures of several camels lying on the ground in the shade.

There was a speaking-tube in the room, and Pomp grasped it and shouted in the mouthpiece:

“All han’s on deck!”

“What’s the matter?” Frank answered.

“Dar am a camp ahead ob us.”

That was enough for the inventor. He came running out, followed by the others, and went up forward.

He quickly saw the oasis and its occupants.

“Very likely the very caravan we are in search of,” he told his friends. “Pomp, lower the Pegasus.”

“In de oasis?”

“Yes. We’ll take them by surprise.”

The engine settled down, but before she could reach the ground the cries of the camels brought the natives from their huts, and they saw the airship.

A scene of excitement ensued.

The wildest cries escaped the natives, and they prostrated themselves upon the ground, touching the earth with their foreheads.

All of them looked like Arabs.

There were seven in the party, and every one men.

Frightened by the air engine, the camels got upon their feet and plunged about the oasis in the wildest manner.

Frank keenly eyed the Arabs.

“All natives,” he commented.

“Mayn’t Murdock be in a tint?” asked Barney.

“I doubt it, but I’ll see.”

“Can you speak to them?” asked Reynard.

“Not in their tongue.”

Just then the airship alighted on four flanges and stood on the ground perfectly rigid near the Arabs.

Frank alighted with Reynard.

Going over to the three tents he peered in.

They were all empty.

“He isn’t here!” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps he is in another caravan,” suggested the detective.

“More than likely, for he isn’t in the oasis or we’d see him.”

“Let’s go ahead, then. These poor wretches are badly scared.”

“Very well,” assented Frank, and they returned aboard.

The Pegasus was sent skyward.

When she had risen the seven men arose.

One of them burst out laughing and muttered:

“What a narrow escape! But they failed to penetrate my disguise.”

He was Murdock!

For safety against the natives he had put on this disguise when he started to cross the desert with his six paid servants.

It now stood him in good stead.

Ignorant of the deception that had been practiced upon them the crew of the air engine arose to a height of 430 feet and the coon sent the machine ahead.

Frank watched the people in the oasis with a glass, and as they vanished astern in the distance he said:

“I was almost sure Murdock was among them. However, we must look further. It was disappointing.”

“Gwine straight ahead ter Bagdad?” asked Pomp.

“Yes. We can run across him long before he reaches there. The caravans travel very slowly, going at a walk, while we can get along at the rate of a mile a minute.”

Barney was now posted on watch.

The rest of the journey was finished by the afternoon, but not another caravan was seen.

Every one was surprised at this.

It began to dawn upon Frank’s mind that an error had been made somewhere.

“Could it be possible that the captain of the steamer sent us on a wild goose chase?” he asked the Irishman.

“Bedad, it looks as if we’d been fooled!” replied Barney.

“It would have been impossible for any caravan to have reached this place ahead of us.”

“Yer roight there, sor. Now, them spalpeens in the oasis——”

“Are you suspicious about them?”

“Faith, it shtruck me as Murdock might be wid ‘em.”

“How could he have escaped detection?”

“Be makin’ himself luck loike ther resht av ther gang.”

“Sure enough.”

“Did you see anny av their mugs?”

“No, for they kept their faces to the ground.”

“Begorra, that’s where yer mishtake waz.”

Frank began to agree with this idea.

He had been careless by trusting too much to outward appearances, and now deeply regretted it.

“I’m going back to meet that caravan!” said he, finally.

“Moight jest as well wait here, as they’re bound ter come along.”

“Very well. There’s a good place to wait.”

He pointed out a rocky gorge, and the engine descended.