But there were three senseless forms on the
ground beside the craft when Tom, Ned and Mr. Halling ran up. In
the fading light Tom saw a face he knew--three faces in fact.
"Mr. Damon!" he cried. "We've found him, Ned!"
"But--too late--maybe!" answered Ned, in a low voice, as he, too,
recognized the man who had been missing so long.
Mr. Halling was bending over the unconscious form of his friend.
"He's alive!" he cried, joyfully. "And not much hurt, either. But
he has been ill, and looks half starved. Who are these men?"
Tom gave a hasty look.
"Shallock Peters and Harrison Boylan!" he cried. "Ned, at last
we've caught the scoundrels!"
It was true. Chance had played into the hands of Tom Swift. While
Mr. Halling was looking after Mr. Damon, reviving him, the young
inventor and Ned quickly bound the hands and feet of the two
plotters with pieces of wire from the broken airship.
Presently Mr. Damon opened his eyes.
"Where am I? What happened? Oh, bless my watch chain--it's Tom
Swift! Bless my cigar case, I--"
"He's all right!" cried Tom, joyfully. "When Mr. Damon blesses
something beside his tombstone he's all right."
Peters and Boylan soon revived, both being merely stunned, as was
Mr. Damon. They looked about in wonder, and then, feeling that
they were prisoners, resigned themselves to their fate. Both men
were shabbily dressed, and Tom would hardly have known the once
spick and span Mr.
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