The wind now became a perfect gale, and on the wings of it they were hurled forward, almost faster than their powerful propellers could carry them. They were tossed hither and thither by the storm, and only Jerry’s skill, aided as he was by his chums, prevented a wreck in the first few minutes of the opening blasts on the trumpet of the storm king.
“Can’t you go up higher, and get away from it?” yelled Ned into Jerry’s ear.
“If we do we may miss the Silver Star,” was the answer. For it was not so dark but that the white and flapping expanse of the planes of the wrecked airship could be noticed in case the boys sighted her.
Forward they were hurled, Jerry trying to keep at about the same distance above the forest, but finding it hard work. It was over an unbroken woods that they were now moving. Not a clearing was to be seen in the many miles they covered in a short space of time.
“We’re going to have trouble when we want to land to-night,” remarked the tall lad. “I doubt if we can do it.”
“We can’t unless we get to a clearing,” declared Ned.
“Or a lake,” added Bob.
With a swoop the Comet went sailing upward, as a fiercer blast of the wind caught under her big planes, and Jerry strained at the lever of the deflecting rudder to bring her down.
“Give us a hand here!” he cried to his chums, and they sprang to his side.
Slowly the airship was forced downward, and then on she went on the wings of the gale, swaying from side to side, while the wind howled through her wire rigging as if in glee at the fate in store for her.