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Appleton, Victor [pseud.]

"Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice, or, the Wreck of the Airship"

So, in fact, could the gas-bag be
mended, but it was harder work.
"Well, she's got some bad tears in her," announced Tom as the light
flashed over the big bag. "Luckily I have plenty of the material,
and some cement, so I think we can mend the rents, though it will
take some days. Nothing could have been better for us than this
cave. We'll stay here until we're ready to go on."
"Unless the Indians drive us out," said Abe, in a low tone.
"Why, do you think there is any danger of that?" inquired Tom.
"Well, th' brown-skinned beggars aren't any too friendly," responded
the old miner. "Th' one that was in here will be sure to tell th'
others of some big spirit that flew into th' cave, an' they'll be
crowdin' around here when th' storm's over. It may be we can fight
'em off, though."
"Maybe they won't attack us," suggested Ned, hopefully. "Perhaps we
can make them believe we are spirits, and that it will be unlucky to
interfere with us."
"Perhaps," admitted Abe, "though my experience has been that these
Indians are a bad lot. They haven't much respect for spirits of any
kind, an' they'll soon find out we're human. But then, we'll wait
an' see what happens."
"And, in the meantime, have something to eat," put in Mr. Damon.
"Bless my knife and fork! but the hail storm gave me an appetite.


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