“Keep watch for your landmarks,” Jerry cautioned the old prospector. “We’ll go down when you spot one and see if we can trace the valley in that way.”
“All right,” was the answer.
They crossed the Border early that day, flying low enough to recognize the stone posts that in places marked the Northern limits of the United States, and the Southern line of Canada.
“We’ve got to work more to the East, to my way of thinking,” said Mr. Brill, after several hours of coasting back and forth over the line. “The valley lies more to the East.”
Jerry accordingly changed the rudder. They were proceeding along at a good rate of speed, when there came a sudden snapping sound and the Comet seemed to swing about almost in a circle.
“What is it?” cried Ned.
“Rudder control is broken!” cried Jerry. “We’ll have to go down. Shut off the motor, Ned. Bob, start the gas machine!”
Below them was an almost unbroken wilderness, but Jerry managed to pick out a little clearing, and guided the craft to that as best he could.
As the Comet settled down, and the boys and their companions leaped out to see the extent of the damage, there was a commotion in the woods surrounding them. Then, to their surprise, [there stalked into the little clearing a number of Indians], attired in their beads, feathers and blankets.