“Do you know what I think we ought to do,” spoke Bob, after breakfast.
“What; eat again?” asked Ned, with a wink at Jerry.
“No. Now cut out that joking, can’t you? I think we ought to go higher up, say a couple of miles. The air will be clearer, and we can see farther.”
“Good idea, Chunky!” declared Jerry. “We’ll do it. Maybe we can see the balloon, then.”
The motor was speeded up, and in a short time, with her elevating rudders tilted skyward, the Comet was climbing higher into the air. When the barograph measured fourteen thousand feet height Jerry sent the craft along at that level, while all on board peered eagerly about for the Manhattan.
They had been travelling on this way for perhaps two hours, and Jerry was wondering how far they might venture out over the ocean, when Ned asked:
“Why are you speeding up the motor? Aren’t we going fast enough?”
“I haven’t put on any more speed,” was the reply.
“Look at the tractometer,” was Ned’s reply, and glancing at the instrument Jerry saw, with a start, that they were going about seventy-five miles an hour.