At last, almost twenty-four hours after Tom’s rescue, a flight of military planes arrived from the country which claimed the territory invaded by Bronich.
The officer in charge, Colonel Jardin, was immediately taken to the cave where the sullen prisoners were being held.
“It appears that you gentlemen already have the situation well in hand,” he remarked. “Allow me to express my country’s gratitude for what you have done.
In due course, our government will also render its official thanks.”
As the planes took off and soared homeward again, with Bronich and his henchmen on board, Tom heaved a sigh of relief.
“Oh, brother, am I glad to see the last of those Kranjovians!” he declared.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish, if you ask me!” muttered Chow. “Now let’s all hotfoot it back to our own camp ‘fore them reindeers start gallopin’ over the place!”
“Reindeers?” said Tom. “You’re a little mixed up, Chow. There are no reindeer at the South Pole.”
“That’s what you think, son.” The cook chuckled.
A VOLCANIC ERUPTION 197
“In case you ain’t looked at the calendar lately, tonight’s Christmas Eve!”
The next day there was a huge feast in the ice-cave mess hall at the American camp, which the men had decorated with green and red streamers and a papier-mache Christmas tree.
Chow had outdone himself as chef. There was roast cold-storage turkey with chestnut dressing, cranberry sauce, and all the other trimmings. To top it all off, Chow brought on a huge, steaming plum pudding with hard sauce.
After all hands had stuffed themselves till they could hardly move, they joined in singing “Silent Night,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and other Christmas carols.