On entering the city, after leaving his cattle in safe keeping at the farmyard, Johnny Thompson went directly to Red Cross headquarters to inquire for Mazie.

“Mazie!” exclaimed the matron in amazement, “we thought she went with you. We have not seen her since you left.”

Johnny sank weakly into a chair. His head whirled. Mazie gone for five days! What must be her fate? In this city of opposing factions, with its dens of radicals, thieves and murderers, and, above all, the gang of “yellow men” from the north, what chance could there be of ever seeing her? Yet he would! At least he would give his life in a search for her!

Hurriedly sketching to the nurse his plans for the refuge for homeless ones and informing her of the whereabouts of the cattle and the remaining gold, he dashed from the room. Armed with his automatic, he went at once to the heart of the most treachery-ridden city in the world. Where was he to search for her? He had not the remotest notion. Suddenly, thinking of the telegrams she meant to send to Hong Kong ordering rice and sweet potatoes and of the visit she had meant to make to the owner of the unoccupied hotel, he decided to attempt to trace her steps at these places.

At the telephone station, the agent, referring to his reports, established the fact that she had sent the telegrams. At the office of the owner of the hotel she was unknown. No American woman had been to him to rent the hotel. That much then was settled; somewhere between the telegraph office and the hotel owner’s place of business she had been spirited away.

Johnny began tracing out the course she would probably have taken. A narrow side street offered a short cut. Being familiar with the city and in a hurry, she would take that. Half way down this street, Johnny came upon a familiar door. It was that of Wo Cheng, the Chinese costumer. He had had dealings with Wo Cheng during his sojourn in this city as a soldier. Here was a man he could trust. He paused by the door and gave the accustomed signal of those other days.

In answer to his rap, the door opened a crack.

“Oo-we! Johnny!” grunted the Chinaman, opening the door, then closed it quickly as Johnny entered.

“You come buy?” he rubbed his hands together.

“No come buy?”

“Wanchee cum-show?”

“No wanchee cum show. No wanchee money.”

“Oo-we!” grunted the Chinaman again.

Johnny’s eyes were restlessly roving over the array of garments that hung on either side of a narrow aisle. Suddenly he uttered a low exclamation and sprang to a corner and examined a woman’s dress.

“Wo Cheng,” he demanded almost fiercely, “where you come buy this?”

“Oo-we!” squealed the Chinaman. “Can’t tell mine, not savvy mine.”

“You woncha savvy!” Johnny hissed between tight set teeth.

“Mebby can do,” murmured the Chinaman hurriedly. “No see. Mebby now see. See Jap man, this one, velly small Jap man. This one think mine.”

“Good,” said Johnny. “Now perhaps you can tell me what kind of a dress he took away?”

“Mebby can do.” The man, fumbling among his garments, came upon a plain, Russian, peasant type of dress.

“Take look, see,” he murmured. “One, two, three, allesame.”

“All right, you no speak see mine, savvy.”

“No speak,” murmured Wo Cheng.

“Good-bye,” said Johnny bolting out of the door.

“Mazie’s dress,” he mumbled to himself. “They have transformed her into a Russian peasant girl for their safety, but where have they taken her?”

As he rounded the corner, an old familiar sound smote his ear. The rat-tat-tat of a machine gun. It was accompanied almost at once by another and yet another.

“An uprising and a battle!” he muttered savagely. “Worse and worse. What chance has a fellow got? Do well enough if I escape the firing squad.”

The two oriental spies in the balloon they had stolen from Dave Tower and Jarvis were not as fortunate as in the first instance they seemed to be. There was practically no wind. The engine was slow in getting the bulky sausage under way.

Suddenly as the watchers, with despair written on their faces, gazed skyward, they saw something slip from the cabin deck and drop like a plummet. A silvery thread appeared to follow it.

“The anchor and the cable!” exclaimed Dave. “It’s got away from them. If it catches—C’mon.”

He was away like a rocket. Uneven surface, slippery hills of snow meant nothing to him. He was racing for freedom from threatening years of exile.

Jarvis, followed by the Russians, came on more slowly. As they mounted a low hill they saw the cabin of the balloon give a sudden lunge.

“She’s caught!” panted Jarvis. “’Ere’s ‘opin’ she ’olds.”

In another second, a groan of despair escaped his lips. It was true that the anchor had caught in a frozen bank of earth and was holding fast, but the men were bending over the rail working with the upper end of the steel cable. If they could loosen it or file it, causing it to snap, no human power could bring them back. And if they got away with the balloon—.

But after despair, came hope. There sounded the pop of an automatic. Six shots came in quick succession.

“Dave’s a wonder with an automatic!” exclaimed Jarvis.

The men worked on. Would they accomplish their task? Every person in the little group of watchers held his breath.

Crack-crack-crack. The automatic spoke again. Doubtless Dave had moved to a position more directly under the cabin.

“’E’s got ’em! ’E’s got ’em!” exulted Jarvis, throwing his cap in air.

One of the Orientals was seen to waver, then to fall backward. The other instantly dropped from sight.

“The windlass,” commanded Jarvis. “Some of you bring it up. We’ll pull ’em down alright, alright! We’ll get the bloody, bloomin’ ’eathen yet.”

A wooden windlass, made for bringing the balloon to earth in case of storm, was brought forward, while Dave and Jarvis watched for any indication of further activity on the part of the robbers.

Once the windlass was fastened to the bank by means of ice anchors, the task of bringing down the balloon was a matter of moments.

Two cowering wretches were found in one corner of the cabin.

“I’m for ’aving an end to ’em at once and immediately,” stormed Jarvis.

“No! No!” smiled Dave. “They’re just the boys we want. They are going to tell us why the engine won’t go for us.”

“And if they do?”

“If they do, we’ll leave them the greenhouse, coal mine, heating plant and all in exchange for that bit of information.”

Jarvis seemed quite content with any arrangement which promised to put a few thousand miles between him and the “bloody, bloomin’ ’eathen.”

After the wound of the one who had been winged by Dave’s automatic had been dressed, Dave locked himself in the cabin with the yellow men.

It took him three hours to secure the desired information, but in the end it came.

The wounded Oriental showed him a secret eccentric bearing through which the crank shaft operated. When this bearing was properly adjusted the engine worked perfectly, when it was out of adjustment, it would not work at all.

When Dave had operated the engine for an hour, he sent the prisoners back to the greenhouse, where they were released. The gold they had stolen was found hidden away in a locker of the balloon cabin.

In another hour, the balloon, with all on board, gently urged on by the wind, ably assisted by the now perfect engine, was making good time toward Vladivostok.

As Johnny Thompson hesitated at the head of the street, listening to the rat-tat-tat of machine guns, uncertain which way to turn, he heard the distant thunder of an engine in midair. Gazing away to the north, he saw a dirigible balloon circling in search of a likely lighting place.

“I wonder which faction that bird belongs to?” he murmured.

If he had but known the truth, a little ray of hope would have pierced the gloom of his leaden sky, for this balloon was none other than the one he had seen carry his good friends, Dave and Jarvis, away from the mines, some weeks before. They had made the journey in safety. Twice they had been obliged to land to escape the fury of a storm. Wild reindeer had made up for the scantiness of their food supply. Now they were about to alight and enter the city of many mysteries.

Pant had already entered. The clan was gathering, gathering for stirring events, for the development of new mysteries and the solving of old ones. Soon, all unknown to one another, Dave and Jarvis, Pant, Johnny Thompson, Cio-Cio-San, and Mazie would be in the same city—a city seething in the tumult of revolt.