"Grit seems to be getting the worst end of it this trip," said Paul, who had been awakened by the commotion.
"Yes, he isn't much used to airships," agreed Dick. "But you'd better turn in, Paul. You've got an hour yet before it's your turn at the wheel."
"Oh, better let me have it now. I'm awake, and I can't get to sleep again. Turn in yourself."
Which Dick was glad enough to do, as he was quite tired. The remainder of the night passed without incident, and when morning came the airship was put at her former speed, fifty miles an hour. That may not sound very fast, but it must be remembered that this rate had to be kept up for sixty hours straight, perhaps.
After breakfast the wire that had shocked Grit was renewed, and then some observations were taken to determine their position. It was calculated they were about halfway across Indiana by noon.
The afternoon was slowly waning, and they were preparing for their second night of the prize trip, congratulating themselves that they had not yet been forced to descend.
Suddenly Larry, who was at the wheel, uttered a cry of alarm.
"Something's wrong!" he shouted. "I can't steer her on the course any longer. She's heading North instead of West."
Dick and Mr. Vardon rushed to the pilot-house. A glance at the compass confirmed Larry's statement. The aviator himself took the wheel, but it was impossible to head the craft West. She pointed due North.
"The horizontal rudder is out of gear!" cried Dick.