It was the dirigible balloon that Johnny Thompson saw as he rounded the point of the hill in his wild flight from the Bolshevik band.

With his dogs grouped about him, he stood and gazed at it in speechless astonishment. Where had it come from? What was its mission? Whither was it going? These and many other questions sped through his mind as the balloon rose lazily in air.

Scarcely a moment had passed when a sound arrested his attention. It was the thunder of a powerful gasoline engine. He guessed that it was the motor of his own airplane. He had not long to doubt, for in a second the machine came swooping into sight. It made directly toward the clumsy sausage. Lithe and bird-like it tore away after the balloon.

Was this a friendly visit or an attack? The answer came in a series of noisy punctuations—the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun.

This balloon then was an enemy. Dimly the truth entered Johnny’s mind. He was beginning to connect the balloon with the little yellow men who had attacked him, and with the earth shudder, but how it all fitted in he could not tell. Who was the enemy?

His eyes were on the two ships of the sky. The airplane, having circled close to the cabin of the balloon, had fired a volley, whether directly at it or above or below it, he could not tell. Now the plane circled close again. But what was this? A man was climbing to the upper rigging of the plane. Now he was standing, balancing himself directly on top. Johnny recognized the slim figure of Pant. Now the plane, with engine dead, drifted toward the cabin of the balloon. They were almost even with it. There came three snorts of the engine and the plane shot beneath the cabin, then out on the other side. But Pant? Where was he? He was not on the upper surface of the plane nor climbing down on the rigging.

Johnny sat down dizzily. Cold perspiration stood out on his brow. The excitement, following hours of fatigue and near starvation, was too much for him; his head swam; his eyes blurred.

But he shook himself free from these sensations and gazed skyward. He expected to see Pant come crashing down to earth. He did not. There could be but one answer: he had leaped in midair for the underrigging of the cabin of the balloon and had caught it. What a feat! It made Johnny’s head dizzy to think of it. He did not doubt for one moment that Pant would do it. But what could be his purpose? Had the balloon broken loose? Was it drifting free, a derelict? This he could not believe, for the thing had seemed to travel in a definite direction. Besides, if this was true, why the machine-gun fire? Had they killed the only occupants? Johnny hoped not. He hated death. Whatever the men had done, he hoped they had not been killed. But why had Pant taken such chances?

Then as he looked, he saw a package drop over the side of the cabin. It fell straight downward, with tremendous velocity. But there came a sudden check. It was attached to a parachute. The parachute had opened. Its course was now marked by a little down-rush, then a pause, then a rush again.

He had been so intent on his observation of this that he did not realize that once more an object had fallen from the car. This time it was a man. He also was attached to a parachute.

As he came into Johnny’s circle of vision, the boy rose and waved his arms, crying with a hoarse shout of joy:

“Pant! Pant! Good old Pant! He’s safe!”

When Dave Tower and Jarvis led the little band of miners back through the cave, they found, as they had expected, that a small tunnel had been cut out of the frozen earth to form an entrance to the mine. Before entering this tunnel, they paused to look about them. Ranged about the walls, piled tier on tier, were black cubes of sand and gravel. From these came the glitter of yellow metal. These were cubes of pay dirt which would yield a rich return when the spring thaw came. Bits of cable, twisted coils of wire, a pair of rusty pliers, told that electricity had been employed as power for mining.

A smooth spot on the cave’s floor showed where some form of engine had been set. That the power of the engine had been supplied by gasoline was shown by a great pile of empty one hundred gallon steel tanks which had been stolen from the company’s supply in the sheds.

Dave picked up the pliers and rubbed the rust from them.

“They’re Orientals all right,” he mused. “Pliers got their stamp on ’em. But say! These boys sure had some ideas about mining placer gold. A man could take their machine to Alaska and make a fortune. Let’s have a look.”

“Sure! Sure!” came from a half score of throats.

They hurried down the narrow tunnel to find themselves in the mine. Here, as in the cave, they found cubes of pay dirt piled high on every side. At the end of it all was a low square machine with a buzz-saw-like wheel extending from it. The power wires, still attached to it, had been cut some ten feet from it.

“’E’s a clever one!” said Jarvis.

“I’ll say so,” agreed Dave.

Before Pant leaped from the balloon, after throwing overboard the two hundredweight sack of gold which the yellow men, in their fright at the machine-gun fire, had deserted in the outer cabin, he performed one other valuable service. He threw over the heavy anchor, which was attached to a steel cable.

The anchor shot like a plummet for the ground and proceeded to hang itself securely in a corner of rock. The progress of the balloon was instantly halted. Still filled with terror at the machine-gun fire, the yellow men took to their parachutes. On landing, they made good their escape by losing themselves in the rocky ledges which rose up from the sea shore. It was useless to pursue them there.

By the time all this had happened, Dave and Jarvis, with their men, had come out from the mine and had joined Johnny, who, still prancing about in his ridiculous costume, was rejoicing with Pant over the sudden enriching of their treasure-hoard.

“Get a windlass,” said Dave. “We’ll bring that giant bird to earth. There may be more treasure aboard her.”

In due time the balloon-cabin touched the snow and the men swarmed upon it.

They were disappointed in their hope of finding further treasure, but they did find a solitary man. He was a white man and was totally unconscious from a blow on the head.

“Dave, you and Jarvis stay here and see what you can do for the chap,” said Johnny. “All the rest of you come with me. We’ve got work ahead of us and a plenty. The Bolshevik band will be here in less than twenty-four hours. We’ll have to float our schooner, load the provisions and gold and beat it.”

He turned once more to Dave and Jarvis. “If you bring him to consciousness and can manage it, carry him to the ship. Otherwise I’ll send two men to help you when we are through loading.”

Wild hours of tireless labor followed for the the main gang. To bring the schooner from the bank to the water-channel, a quarter of a mile over the ice, was no mean task. It was at last accomplished. After that, the loading went on rapidly.

Nothing had been seen of Dave and Jarvis when the last case of provisions had been brought aboard.

Johnny chose two of the men and went round the hill to assist in bringing the injured man to the ship. Imagine his astonishment when, on rounding the curve, he saw that the balloon was gone.

“Gone!” he murmured, dazed at the suddenness of it.

A hasty examination of the surroundings gave them no sign of the missing men.

“Must have broken loose and sailed away with them.”

At that instant he caught the gleam of a light on the western sky.

“Camp fire of the Bolsheviki. We can’t wait another moment,” he muttered. “And it wouldn’t do any good if we did. They’re gone.”

He turned and led his men back to the ship.

A half hour later the little schooner was pop-popping her way through a narrow channel to open water beyond. She carried, besides her crew and provisions, a hundredweight of gold taken in the last three days from Mine No. 2, and twice as much taken from the robber yellow men. Thirty-five per cent of this would do wonders in Vladivostok. Johnny was sitting and thinking of these things and of a wireless message he had received but a few days before, when he suddenly began wondering where Pant was.

“Say,” he exclaimed, turning to one of his men, “where’s Pant? Haven’t seen him since we put out.”

Sure enough, where was he? They searched the ship. He was not to be found. At last Johnny spied a note pinned to his spare parka. It was written by Pant.

“Dear Johnny,” it read, “you will pardon me, I am sure, for leaving your service at this time. But you won’t need me down there and Vladivostok sounds too tame. Up here there is real adventure.

Johnny looked at the man beside him and the man looked at him.

“Queer chap,” murmured Johnny. “But a real sport at that.”

“No use to try to find him.”

“Not a bit.”

“Queer chap,” Johnny murmured again, “Queer eyes.”

“That Pant was just short for Panther Eye,” said the miner. “Men gave him the name. One of them claimed he was hunting panthers once with a skillful surgeon. A panther tore his right eye out. The surgeon shot the panther and grafted an eye into Pant’s empty socket. The fellow claimed he’d seen him with those yellow goggles off. Said his pupil contracted in the light like a great cat’s eye. But you can’t believe half those men tell you.”

“No, you can’t,” said Johnny. “I guess every chap has a right to have a secret or two about himself and keep them. Pant had his and kept it. That’s about as far as we’ll ever get on that mystery. What say we go to chow?”