“Not as fast as a subway express, but doing pretty well,” was Harry’s comment.
The young engineer was, however, most of the time as engrossed with his engines as was Frank with the steering apparatus. From time to time he ran his hand carefully over them to see if the condenser was doing its cooling work properly. The lubricating gear also received his careful attention. A heated bearing would have meant a serious accident if not disaster and Harry was too old an aeronaut despite his youthful years not to pay the closest attention to one of the most important features of a gasolene engine.
“It seems to me that we had better make camp for the night in the cypress belt if possible and make an early start over the ’glades themselves to-morrow,” said Frank, as the dark line of trees grew gradually nearer and the boys saw that they formed a thick belt in some places several miles across.
“Yes, if we find a landing-place,” rejoined Harry.
“How about that, Quatty?” questioned Frank, “are there any smooth spots clear of trees in the swamp?”
“Oh, berry plenty, massa,” replied the negro. “I fin’ you nice lilly campin’ place we get near dem.”
Like a big hawk about to pounce the Golden Eagle II was hovering about an hour before sundown above the tops of the dark cypresses in search of a suitable spot to swoop down. After Frank had manœuvred her in widening circles through the air for perhaps half an hour they at last were above a large clearing a mile or more in diameter and which was quite clear of trees.
“Injun make um long time ago, maybe three, four thousan’ years,” explained Quatty in answer to the boys’ questions.
“Three or four hundred, more likely,” laughed Frank.
“Or three or four,” added Harry.