In a few minutes the horsemen could be heard approaching. They dashed past the trees behind which the airship stood, and Tom’s heart beat fast as he realized how very near the danger was. But the riders did not pause, and the sound of the horses’ hoofs gradually faded away. “We’d better lie snug for a time,” said Tom. “Perhaps the wind will moderate. I’m afraid the exertion of overcoming it would do for the engines altogether.” While Oliphant held the electric torch, carefully shaded, Tom again overhauled the engines. “The valve is sticking,” he said in a whisper. “There is some grit between the stem and the sleeve. It must have got in at our last stop. I shall have to take off the cover and file the stem smooth.” This was an operation of some difficulty; but as it turned out there was time to spare, for as the night wore on the force of the wind rather increased than diminished. Schwab bemoaned the lack of a pipe and beer; the others were so tired and famished that they were not provoked to either merriment or anger by his complaints. He by and by again fell asleep. Tom and Oliphant kept watch and watch throughout the night. When Tom awoke from an uneasy nap shortly before dawn, he was relieved to find that the wind had dropped, though its direction was still unfavourable. At daybreak a start was made, and for a short time the valve worked satisfactorily, thanks to the large amount of oil used to counteract the overheating. Then, however, the oil began again to give off an unmistakable odour. The airship was brought to ground, and Tom found that the injured stem had become bent. With infinite care, to avoid breaking it altogether, Tom straightened it with a small hammer, and again filed it smooth. Once more the airship resumed its flight. Fortunately there was no sign of the pursuers, and Tom hoped that Abdul had managed to evade their clutches. The country was very wild and deserted, and Tom purposely steered some miles out of what he thought was the true course, in order to avoid the cultivated district that lay in the direct line to the yacht. Suddenly, however, skirting the shoulder of a hill, he came into full view of a village, with the sea a few miles beyond. “Thank Heaven!” ejaculated Oliphant, “we may do it yet.” “Surely that’s the very village you were taken to with Ingleton,” said Tom, scanning the place through his binocular. “Have a look.” “By George! I believe you’re right. There’s a whole host of Moors round it, too. They’ve sighted us. They’re off!” Taking the glass from him, Tom saw a body of at least a hundred and fifty men galloping off in a direction which would bring them between him and the coast. “Smother them!” he cried. “I wouldn’t mind if we hadn’t to drop so often to cool.” “Can’t we make one good dash for it? We’ve only eight or nine miles to go, have we?” “My dear fellow, we can’t do five miles at a stretch—unless we drop Mr. Schwab.”