“And maybe the bank treasure isn’t on it after all,” suggested Bob.
“Maybe not, Chunky. Yet if those robbers had it about them we’d have discovered it. And I don’t believe they have hidden it in the barn. Well, let’s start.”
All the rest of that day they cruised about in the air, occasionally veering to the left or right, for they could not be certain that the pilotless Silver Star would keep to a straight course.
“If we only knew which way the wind was blowing at the time their airship scooted off by herself, we might know better how to search,” observed Bob, pausing in his work of getting supper.
“Yes, and if we knew how much gasolene she carried, we could tell how long her engine would run, and if we knew just where she had fallen in these woods we’d go there and find her,” added Jerry. “But we don’t know those things, so we’ve got to do the best we can.”
“I certainly hope I get a chance to look for my flying frog,” put in the professor. “We are getting over the region now where they are to be found.”
“We’ll do the best we can for you,” promised the tall lad.
On and on they went. Night came, and they descended in a small clearing, for in the darkness they did not want to run over the place where the wrecked airship might be. Morning again saw them on the wing.
It was about noon, when Jerry, who had paid several anxious visits to the barometer, came back into the pilot house where Ned was steering.