But it proved to be a larger one than could be repaired with the facilities at hand. It seemed to have been made by some object being fired through the material of which the bag was made, and at first Jerry was inclined to think that it was caused by one of the bullets from Noddy’s airgun. But a closer inspection by Mr. Glassford showed that a nut had come loose from one of the iron braces of the port propeller. The propeller had evidently whirled it with great force against the thin material, tearing quite a rent in it.
“Well, we’ll have to lose part of our gas,” admitted Mr. Glassford as he told Jerry to descend.
“Will it cause us to descend much?”
“Not a great deal. I can throw overboard some of the sand ballast, and we will have about the same buoyancy as we had before.”
There was nothing else to do save to let the gas escape. Mr. Glassford opened some of the bags of sand and allowed the contents to run out. The effect was to keep the motor ship about at the same level.
“It seems to be going along as well as ever,” said Jerry. “You were wise to divide the gas bag into sections.”
The Comet continued to speed on. There was now no sight of any of the competing airships, and our friends were hoping that they had left them behind. One thing worried them, however—the fact that the wind was still bearing them westward.
It was about noon when Ned, who was looking from the cabin window, uttered a cry.
“We’re approaching a big body of water,” he said. “I can see it sparkling below.”
“That’s a river, and it’s a mighty big one,” said Jerry, coming to the window and looking down. “I must tell Mr. Glassford. Perhaps it will give him his bearings.”