CHAPTER XVII.
A MESSAGE FROM THE SKY.
For a time it looked as if the Bertha must fall far short of the summit and drop to the jagged rocks below. There was nothing whatever the boys could do. The song of the motors had almost ceased, and they understood that through some mischance the gasoline tank had become empty. The situation was a critical one.
The angle at which the flying machine was descending, however, included the summit to which the boys were directing her. In a few moments she landed at the top, and almost rolled down the opposite slope before the momentum could be checked.
Ben instantly ran to the tanks and found them empty. He called to Carl, and the two made a close examination of other portions of the machine. There was nothing wrong anywhere except that the tanks were dry!
Ben pointed to the drain cock at the bottom and found that it had been turned about half-way. That explained the situation.
“What surprises me,” he said, “is that we never noticed the leak. Why, we should have been able to smell the wasting gasoline before we left the camp. I don’t understand why we didn’t.”
“That’s easy,” explained Carl. “We were cleaning up the machines this morning, oiling and shifting a little gasoline from one car to the other, and so we never noted the additional evaporation.”
“I’m sure I never turned that cock when I was working over the machine!” declared Ben. “And I think I’m the only one who worked around the tanks.”
“Look here,” exclaimed Carl, a sudden suspicion coming into his face, “you remember the Chinaman who came out from under the planes and consumed about a dollar’s worth of groceries!”