Chapter XIX. Lost in a Salt Mine - Page 2

Europe about us."

"What about my airship?" asked Tom.

"I spoke of that," answered the exile. "I said you were a well-known inventor of the United States, and that if any harm came to the craft the Russian Government would not only be held responsible, but that the governor himself would be liable, and I said that it cost much money. That touched him, for, in spite of their power, these Russians are miserably paid. He didn't want to have to make good, and if it developed that he had made a mistake in arresting us, his superiors would disclaim all responsibility, and let him shoulder the blame. Oh, all is not lost yet, though I don't like the looks of things."

Indeed it began to seem rather black for our friends, for, that night they were taken from the fairly comfortable, large, prison room, and confined in small stone cells down in a basement. They were separated, but as the cells adjoined on a corridor they could talk to each other. With some coarse food, and a little water, Tom and his friends were left alone.

"Say I don't like this!" cried our hero, after a pause.

"Me either," chimed in Ned.

"Bless my burglar alarm!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "It's an awful disgrace! If my wife ever heard of me being in jail--"

"She may never hear of it!" interposed Tom.

"Bless my heart!" cried the odd man. "Don't say such things."

They discussed their plight at length, but nothing could be done, and they settled themselves to uneasy slumber. For two days they were thus imprisoned, and all of Mr. Petrofsky's demands that they be given a fair trial, and allowed to know the nature of the charge against them, went for naught. No one came to see them but a villainous looking guard, who brought them their poor meals. The governor ignored them, and Mr. Petrofsky did not know what to think.

"Well, I'm getting sick of this!" exclaimed Tom--I wish I knew where my airship was."

"I fancy it's in the same place," replied the exile. "From the way the governor acted I think he'd be afraid to have it moved. It might be damaged. If I could only get word to some of my Revolutionary friends it might do some good, but I guess I can't. We'll just have to wait."

Another day passed, and nothing happened. But that night, when the guard came to bring their suppers, something did occur.

"Hello! we've got a new one!" exclaimed Tom, as he noted the man. "Not so bad looking, either."

The man peered into his cell, and said something in Russian.

"Nothing doing," remarked the young inventor with a short laugh. "Nixy on that jabbering."

But, no sooner had the man's words penetrated to the cell of Ivan Petrofsky, that the exile called out something.