The vertical rudder was now depressed, and on a long slant Dick's airship was sent down. Lower and lower she glided, and soon an indistinct mass appeared. It was almost dusk, and no details could be made out. Then, as she went lower what appeared to be a gray cloud showed.
"There's a bank of fog below us," declared Paul.
"Or else it's the smoke of Pittsburg," said Innis.
"We left Pittsburg behind long ago," Larry returned. "Why!" he cried, as the gray foglike mass became more distinct. "That's water—that's what it is!"
"Water!" exclaimed Dick. "Can we have gone in the wrong direction, and be back over the Atlantic?"
"Or the Pacific?" suggested Larry with a laugh.
"No such good luck as that! We haven't had time to cross the continent yet," declared Dick. "But what water can it be?"
"Oh, some small lake," spoke Paul.
"It isn't a small lake—it's a big one—an inland sea," was Dick's opinion, as they settled lower and lower.
"It's Lake Michigan, that's what it is!" shouted Larry, after a quick glance at the map. "Fellows, we're over Lake Michigan!"