“Brr-rr! Judging from the weather, Medicine Hat. The way we’ve spun along, I should think we were just about over Alaska.”
“That’s nonsense, of course,” responded Ben, “but we have done some travelling. Keep watch on the forward planes, now.”
The young aviators were veritable Crusoes of the air, marooned in cloudland, lost in a void of ether. As Bob aptly expressed the situation, it was business now, sharp and serious.
The Dart had made a splendid run. At first it had been an experience of fun, novelty and interest for its light-hearted crew. The vast panorama spread out under them had been entrancing. Up to mid afternoon they knew pretty well where they were. Bob kept close track of the chart markings, and when they descended on top of a high hill near a little town, they were soon visited by curious throngs from the village near by, and knew that they were over two hundred and fifty miles from the starting point.
“That’s not so bad,” observed Bob, “over sixty miles an hour.”
“Not if we can keep up a long flight,” said Ben.
This had been their only stopping place. It cost them over two hours’ time. They had some difficulty in securing a new gasolene supply and other things they needed. The machine was carefully oiled and the flight resumed, the bold aviators feeling encouraged by the tremendous cheering of a throng viewing a real monoplane for the first time.
Two hours later real work began. They had something of a tussle fighting an ugly cross current of air. Next a storm cloud interfered. They lost their bearings somewhat, and as dusk came on they were entirely at sea as to location.
About ten o’clock in the evening, after a visit to the lower atmosphere, the air voyagers became assured of one fact: They were no longer traversing a settled range of territory. The night was black, and had become foggy. It had grown chill and uncomfortable as well.
There was not a speck of light visible earthwards anywhere. One long sweep took them over a vast body of water. Then came an interminable stretch of vast forests.