It was really a beautiful night, and they opened the cabin windows after a while to enjoy the soft balmy air to the full. The wind then rushed through the cabin like a hurricane, roaring so that conversation was out of order; but they enjoyed its cool touch on their hot faces.
One by one the stars had made their appearance, until now the heavens fairly glittered with them. How pretty they looked up there in the great blue vault in which they seemed the choicest settings of an angel's handiwork! Somehow they seemed to sparkle more brightly, and the sky seemed a richer cobalt, than the sky the boys knew at home. But they missed many of the stars which they loved in America. The swift airplane in which they rode had taken them, day by day, and night by night, away from them. Many stars which were unknown to them had taken their places, and they realized more strongly than all the pictures in the world could have shown them how very unlike were the skies of the northern and southern hemispheres.
One of the most striking sights to them now was the constellation of the Cross, commonly known by mariners as the Southern Cross, and which is composed of four brilliant stars. Sirius, Canopus, and Centaur also filled a part of the heavens with their splendid light. Mars, Venus, Saturn, and Jupiter were old friends in new surroundings, and were all dazzlingly dressed. The part of the Milky Way between the stars Sirius and Centaur was so rich in stars and crowded nebula: that it seemed a perfect blaze of illumination. And there were the Magellanic clouds, white-looking patches made up of countless stars individually unseen to the naked eye, and nebulae—mists of radiating light—all shining brilliantly and revolving around the starless South Pole. To the northward was the constellation of the Great Bear, which reaches its meridian altitude about the same time as the constellations of the Cross and the Centaur. As the boys looked, stars appeared and disappeared. They were like a succession of guests, coming and going.
After a while, the flyers saw a small river glinting in the moonlight and running along for the most part in the direction they were taking.
"The first time we come to a level, open spot along this stream we will try for a landing," stated John. "It will afford us plenty of water for the radiator if we can get down to it."
"And plenty of water for a good plunge, too," said Paul. "I haven't had a bath since we left Miami, and I'm fairly suffering for a wetting, if it's no more than a quick dip."
"Same here," seconded Bob and Tom.
They were running much lower now, on the lookout for a place to stop, and so once more they could hear each other's voices.
Presently, just after clearing a dense forest, they saw the opening they sought. It was a grassy level, free of bushes and other obstructions, and well bathed in the soft light of the stars and moon.
After some careful maneuvering, John brought the Sky-Bird down, and though the tall grasses wound in the landing-gear in coming to a stop, they broke off without doing any damage.