It was quite late ere the last of the stragglers had seen enough of the airship and departed. Then, when all was in readiness, the bag was filled with gas, and an ascent was made without the use of the planes or propellers, thus rendering their departure noiseless. When the Comet was about two thousand feet high, the propellers were started.
“Which way shall we head, Mr. Bell?” asked Jerry, as he took his place in the pilot house.
“Northeast,” was the former hermit’s reply, as he consulted the map left by the man who had escaped from Lost Valley. “We are several hundred miles from the place.”
“We can reach it by to-morrow,” announced Jerry, a grim look on his face.
All that night the airship rushed on, and in the morning it was still crossing the rugged mountains. On and on it flew. Now the scene below would be lost in a dense fog, and again sharp peaks would rear themselves from the sea of mist. On and on they went, never halting.
It was toward evening that Mr. Bell, who by turns had been looking at the map and observing the landscape below through a telescope, suddenly called out:
“Slow down, Jerry!”
“What’s the matter? Are we going to hit something?” inquired the tall lad, who was in the motor room, while Ned was steering.
“No, there’s no danger of hitting anything,” answered Mr. Bell, “but just ahead of us I see the tall peak that marks the entrance to Lost Valley.”