Salzburg and slid along the road to Radstadt, the “winter sport” resort. Very soon a sufficiently lonely spot was reached and from a smooth patch of moorland turf the Mohawk rose into the air just as the full moon was rising above the great mountains. The engine was working splendidly and the Mohawk climbing swiftly into the keen air travelled steadily until, just before midnight, Dick and Yvette sighted simultaneously the lake at Klagenfurt and the silvery line of the Drave stretching away to the eastward.

With nearly three hundred miles to fly Dick set the Mohawk on a course parallel to the Drave and slightly to the south of it, and for hour after hour they flew on through the brilliant night. Five thousand feet up, they had no fear of detection and gave themselves up to enjoy the beauty of the glorious panorama unfolded below them.

In less than five hours the Danube was sighted and crossed, and just as dawn was breaking, the Mohawk came to earth a few miles from the little town of Neusatz. Quickly the aeroplane was metamorphosed into a motor-car and the “tourists” ran into Neusatz, the little Danube town, for breakfast and rest. A few hours later they were across the borders of Galdavia and heading for Langengrad, the old capital surmounted by a frowning fortress built by the Turks in the Middle Ages.

Twenty-five miles from the city they halted at a wayside inn.

“This is where we shall meet Fédor,” Yvette explained.

It was not until after they had had dinner, a homely meal in the true Galdavian fashion, and it grew dark, that they heard from the roadway three sharp blasts on a motor-horn.

“There he is!” exclaimed the shrewd athletic girl. “Get the car out, Dick!”

The latter hurried to the shed at the rear which served as a garage and when, a few moments later, he drove the Mohawk into the white dusty roadway he found a big touring car drawn up and Yvette talking to a tall, dark-eyed young fellow whom she introduced to Dick as “Count Fédor Ruffo.”

Dick gazed at him with quick interest, for he had heard much of a wonderful invention of the Count which was expected to play an important part in their quest. Fédor was a young fellow of quiet demeanour, with the long nervous hands of an artist, a delicately cultured voice and soft dreamy eyes. Dick took him for an Austrian, which he afterwards found to be 

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