“Driving due east, I should judge.”
“Have you any hope that we can make a landing?”
Frank shook his head.
“Not in this.”
“Then there is only one thing to be done?”
“Yes.”
“Keep on driving her?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Good Lord!” thought Harry, “if the gasolene would hold out we’d land in Europe.”
The above conversation was not carried on in consecutive order as reported. The exigencies of guiding the craft, and the noise of the storm, made that an impossibility. Fragmentary sentences were all the boys could exchange, but they understood one another so well that with them a word meant as much as a whole sentence.