The first precaution taken by Johnny and Pant, after leaving the shed in the back garden, was to hasten to the water-front where their friends, the rough and ready mining gang, were still living in a cabin near the gasoline schooner. Selecting eight of these, Johnny detailed them to work in two shifts of four each, to lurk about the building where Mazie was being confined. They were instructed to guard every exit to the place, and, if an attempt was made by the kidnappers to change base, to put up a fight and, if possible, release Mazie.

Johnny realized that time was precious, that not one moment must be lost in going to the rescue of his girl-pal, but in this land of many soldiers and little law it was necessary to move with caution. When darkness came, with his gang of miners and a few other hardy fellows, he could rush the place and bring Mazie away without being caught in the hopelessly entangled net of Russian law.

Pant appeared to have lost all interest in the case. He went prowling along the water-front, peering into every junk-shop he came to. What he finally pounced upon and carried away, after tossing the shopkeeper a coin, amused Johnny greatly. It was a bamboo pole, like a fishing-pole only much larger. He estimated it to be at least five inches across the base.

“Now what in time does he want of that?” Johnny asked himself.

Arrived at the Red Cross station, Pant disappeared with his pole inside an old shed that flanked the Red Cross building. Johnny saw little more of him that day. Pant went out after lunch to return with a cheap looking-glass and a glass cutter. There was an amused grin lurking about his lips as Johnny stared at him, but he said nothing; only returned to his shed and his mysterious labors.

As darkness fell, the clan gathered. The miners in full force and variously armed with rifles, automatics, knives and pick-axes came in from the water-front. Pant came out from his hiding. He carried on his back a bulky sack which did not appear to weigh him down greatly. It gave forth a hollow rattle as he walked.

“Sounds like skulls,” said one miner with a superstitious shudder.

The little band received a welcome shock as they rounded the corner of the street by the cathedral. They chanced to be beneath a flickering street-lamp when some one shouted:

“Hello there, ’ere’s the gang!”

It was Jarvis and Dave Tower. Having alighted from the balloon and procured for their exiled friends comfortable quarters in a place of refuge, they had gone out in search of Johnny Thompson, and here they had found him.

“What’s up?” demanded Dave.

Johnny told him the situation in as few words as possible, ending, “You want in on it?”

“Yer jolly right,” exclaimed Jarvis, “and ’ere’s ’ate to the bloomin’ ’eathen!”

So, strengthened by two good men, the party moved cautiously forward until they were only one block from their destination.

“Split up into two sections,” commanded Johnny in a whisper. “One party under Dave go up street beyond the place, the other under Jarvis stay down street. Pant and I will drop back into the garden and try to establish connection with the prisoner. We’ll get the general lay of things and report. If a shot is fired, that will be a signal to rush the place.”

They were away. Creeping stealthily forward, they entered the gate to the garden. Then, skulking along the wall, they made their way toward the shed where they had spent part of the previous night. Twice the hollow things in Pant’s sack rattled ominously.

“Keep that thing quiet, can’t you?” snapped Johnny. “What y’ got it for, anyway?”

“Show you in a minute,” whispered Pant.

So they crept on toward the goal. No lights shone from these back windows. The place was dark as a tomb. Somewhere in the distance a clock slowly chimed the hour. A shiver ran over Johnny’s body. Things would happen soon.

“All I ask is five minutes; five minutes, that’s all,” whispered Pant, as he lowered his sack cautiously to the ground and unlaced its top.

Dimly through the darkness Johnny could see him draw several long objects from the bag. When the bag was empty, he began setting these objects end to end. Evidently they were fitted with sockets, for, once they were joined together, they stuck in place. He soon had them all together. Johnny surmised that this was the reconstructed bamboo pole with all obstructing joints taken out; but what Pant meant to do with it, he could not even guess. He watched with impatient curiosity.

“A speaking tube,” he whispered at last. “It’s a good idea.”

“Mebby; but that ain’t it,” breathed Pant.

“Well, whatever it is, be quick about it. Somebody out front may spill the beans any time. If the military police rush the boys, the game’s up.”

Pant paid no attention. His movements were as steady and cautious as a cat stalking a robin.

“Now, I guess we’re about ready,” he murmured. “Be prepared for a dash. There’s stairs to the right. I may start something.” His words were short and quick. Evidently his heart was giving him trouble.

“All right,” Johnny stood on tip-toes in his agitation.

Suddenly Pant reared his tube in air. Then, to Johnny’s utter astonishment, he dropped on one knee and peered into an opening at one side of it.

“A periscope!” whispered Johnny. “But what can you see in the dark?”

For a moment Pant did not answer. His breath came in little gasps.

“She’s there,” he whispered. “She’s tied. There’s terror in her eyes. There’s something crawling on the floor. Can’t make it out. We gotta get up there quick.”

All at once a shot rang out. It came from the window. The tinkle of broken glass sliding down the bamboo tube told that the periscope was a wreck.

“Periscope’s done for. They saw,” whispered Pant. “Now for it. Up the stairs. They gave our signal. Boys will rush the place from the front. C’mon!”

They were off like a flash. Up the stairs they bounded. A door obstructed their way. Johnny’s shoulder did for that.

Crashing into the room they found a candle flaring. Two persons were struggling to free themselves from imitation dragon costumes. It had been these who frightened Mazie.

“Snap dragon!” exclaimed Johnny, seizing one of the beasts by the tail, and sending him crashing through the panels of a door.

“Snap dragon!” He sent the other through the window to the ground below.

“I’ll teach you!” He glared about him for an instant. Then his eyes fell on Mazie. Without attempting to free her, he gathered her into his arms and fairly hurled her through the door where he and Pant had entered. Then he took his stand in front of it.

He was not a moment too soon, for now the place was swarming with little yellow men. In the light of the candle, their faces seemed hideously distorted with hate. At once Johnny went into action. His right took a man under the chin. No sound came from him save a dull thud. A second went jibbering over the window-sill. A third crashed against the plaster wall. Pant, too, was busy. Everywhere at once, his wicked little dagger gleamed. But, suddenly, two of the strongest sprang at him, bearing him to the floor.

Leaping at these, Johnny gripped them by their collars and sent them crashing together. His breath was coming in hoarse gasps. He could stand little more of this. Where were the boys?

As if in answer, there came the crash of arms on a door and Jarvis burst into the room. He was followed by the whole gang.

“Ow-ee! Ow-ee!” squealed the yellow men. “The white devils!”

In another moment the room was cleared of fighters. Only three of the enemy remained. They were well past moving.

“Pitch ’em after ’em,” roared Johnny. “Tell the cowards to carry away their wounded.”

The wounded men were sent sliding down the stairs.

“Now then, git out. Scatter. I never saw any of you before. See!”

There was a roar of understanding from the men. Then they “faded.”

Leaping to the back stairway, Johnny picked Mazie up in his arms and carried her down to the garden. Here he cut the bands that held her hands and feet.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

“C’mon then. Gotta beat it.”

They were away like a shot.

A half-hour later they were joking over a cup of chocolate and a plate of sweet biscuits in the Red Cross canteen. Mazie was still dressed as a Russian peasant girl.

“I say, Mazie!” exclaimed Johnny. “You make a jolly fine-looking peasant!”

“Thanks!” said Mazie. “But if that’s the way they treat peasant girls, I prefer to be an American.”

“What did they do to you?”

“Nothing, only tried to frighten me into telling where the gold was. It’s not so much what they did as what they would have done.” She shivered.

“Did they get any of the gold?”

“Not an ounce. It’s all stowed away here at the Red Cross.”

“Good! Then we’ll have our haven of refuge yet.”

“If we live.”

“And we will.”

They lapsed into a long silence, each thinking many thoughts.