“It seems awful to fire upon them,” exclaimed the Professor wistfully; “especially as they are not offering us any attack, but are only seeking to escape.” “Fire upon them!” cried Mortimer warmly; “I may fire, but I have certainly no intention of hitting them. I would, though, send the bullets sufficiently close to make matters look serious and possibly stop them. But to shoot men in cold blood--never! I am an American soldier, sir, of the twentieth century and we’ve nothing in common, thank God! with the assassins of your day--the butchers of Little Knee and the murderers of gallant Sitting Bull.” “Sitting Bull!” exclaimed Professor Dean, with astonishment, “so he has passed down in history as one of the legendary heroes and a reproach to the men of my day.” “Very decidedly,” answered Mortimer. “You should read Goodrow’s history on the subject and Krebiel’s noble poem, ‘The Death of Sitting Bull.’” “History is certainly a strange thing,” commented the Professor. “Argument is somewhat difficult at this altitude; besides, I’ve these pesky levers to look after. I should like to take up that subject with you later, though. By the way, do they still play a game called ‘poker’ these days?” “My dear Professor,” answered Mortimer, “the American game of poker is immortal.” “And they still bluff at the game?” “Probably more so than ever.” “You’ll not have an opportunity of trying the bluff you spoke of,” said the Professor, as he nodded toward the pursued. “See the protecting shield go up.” Mortimer looked and saw a shield had been so adjusted as to at least partially protect the air-ship from an attack from above. “A cunning set!” commented Mortimer. “That’s what our friend Kearns said they were,” replied the Professor. “I suppose we had best follow them and return toward earth.” Again the Professor juggled with his levers and they shot rapidly downward. “There’s something else going on there,” remarked Mortimer as he eyed the pursued. “What is it?” They had descended many hundreds of feet. A number of mountain tops, apparently forming part of an extensive range, were more or less indistinctly outlined below. “Mountains?” commented the Professor. “Yes,” said Mortimer, “and from the general lay of the land I should say the heart of the Adirondacks. But what are they doing there?” he inquired eagerly, pointing to the pursued, who were manœuvering with some instrument projecting over one of their quarters. The Professor watched closely for some minutes. “It’s some signaling instrument,” he said at last. “They are signaling the land.” BOOK III IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY CHAPTER I “WHO ARE YOU” The movements of the pursued craft, which Professor Dean described as signals, continued for only a short time and then once more the pursued rose to a great altitude. The “Royal Dean” tenaciously followed. “I thought we were going back to earth, but now it seems that we are heaven-bound,” remarked the Professor.