been so successfully dodging for the past twenty minutes.

So startled was the scientist that he dropped his revolver, throwing
both arms about his antagonist. He was surprised at the slenderness
of the fellow, though he quickly discovered that what the other lacked
in bulk he easily made up for by his lithe, supple body and muscular
arms.

Almost before Professor Zepplin had collected his wits sufficiently to
make any sort of defense he found himself lying flat on his back, with
his opponent sitting on top of him, both wrists pinioned to the ground
in an iron grip.

There seemed to the Professor something strangely familiar about the
figure that was holding him down so firmly, but he did not try to
analyze the impression. He had other things to think of at that
moment.

"I'll wait a second until he lets up ever so little, then, with my
superior weight, I ought to be able to throw him--"

"I've got you this time. What do you mean by prowling about our camp
at this time of the--"

"Wha--what--who--who--" exclaimed the Professor.

"What!" fairly shouted the other. "Who--who are you?"

"I'm Professor Zepplin. Who are you?"