But when each man of each crew finally had to admit his imagination exhausted in finding such work with which to pass the time, then came the long, slow, nerve-racking, patience-killing, disposition-spoiling wait, in which they could only attempt to console one another with predictions of an early clearing, in which they only half believed themselves.
Checkers, chess, and improvised shuffleboard and hand-ball had been resorted to, even to the extent of a checker tournament in which every crew had its entry and Dave Bemis, of the Falcon outfit, had carried off the camp honors and the admitted championship.
But, faced with the responsibilities of succeeding in a non-stop ocean flight of approximately two thousand miles, these were small and ineffective diversions, and in the indoor games many a man had made his moves mechanically and abstractedly, giving proof to the old saying that he was, mentally at least, "up in the air."
Now, under the most favorable conditions, it was bound to be two or three days longer before the flight could start, but there was at least the encouragement that it was a definite prospect.
"Say, fellows," said Andy Flures, entering their hangar after the fifth weather survey he had made in the last hour, "I'll tell you what let's do. There isn't another tap of work of any sort that I know of that can be put on our plane, and we've still got a lot of time on our hands. What do you say if we try to get some of the others together for some field sports—running, jumping, pole vault and track—regular old-fashioned all-round contest like we used to have at Brighton?"
"Andy, you're a wonder," ejaculated Fred Bentner, immediately enthusiastic. "Why, it's just what we need to limber up our muscles and put new ginger into us. We've been sitting around moping too long already."
"Yes," agreed Big Jack, "if by some chance or accident it should develop that we should start upon the flight today we're in no mental condition for it. Our minds are groggy. We've sort of gone sour. We want to limber up our joints, as Fred says, and at the same time get our grouches out of our systems. Nothing like a real athletic contest for that."
"I'm with you heart and soul," echoed Donald Harlan. "Let's sound the others out right away."
And then and there they appointed each other committees of one to visit the other crews to get the thing started.
Half an hour later a score of young men, ruddy of complexion, clear of eye, supple of action, men who did not know the meaning of physical fear, were gathered together in the spirit of schoolboys on the big field that fronted the giant hangars in which were stored the powerful machines that soon were to vie with each other, even as now their pilots and mechanics were about to do, in a historical contest of the air.