“Say, fellows!” cried Nat with a red face, “that’s about all of this hero business. Let’s have some breakfast and get the engine going.”
And so, what might have been a tragedy, ended in one of the merriest meals ever enjoyed by aerial travelers.
By noon the Discoverer, none the worse for her involuntary flight into the icy realms of space, was able to resume her voyage over the desolate peaks and abysses of unknown depths, above which the adventurers were now soaring.
CHAPTER XXI.
“FEATHERED AEROPLANES.”
The professor’s observations that day showed that they were within two hundred miles of where the fabled city ought to lie, always supposing that it really had an existence. But you may be sure that not one of the Motor Rangers doubted that fact.
The course was altered, and the Discoverer’s bow turned toward some ragged-looking peaks that cut the sky line to the northwest. The country over which they were now passing was, as has been said, desolate in the extreme. It appeared to have been devastated by earthquakes or forest fires, and the vegetation was scanty, while the surface of the ground was split, and scarred and hillocked like a crumpled bit of parchment. But toward afternoon the character of the scenery changed. The mountains grew in gloomy grandeur and were clothed with dense tropical growth. Between the great masses and lofty elevations lay dark and unfathomable chasms, at whose depth only a guess could be made. It was wild and dismal scenery, and, viewed even from above, oppressed the travelers with its sense of lonely vastness.
The Discoverer was not making as good time as usual, owing to a stiff headwind. Then, too, the engine had not developed its full power since its freezing up in the upper aerial regions. But the professor announced himself as well satisfied with their progress. Matco gradually got over his first fear of the air travelers and talked to the professor in his rough Spanish, which Nat could hardly understand, so besprinkled was it with mispronunciations and Indian words.
The old Indian was much interested in trying to find out what the white men,—for he no longer thought them gods,—were doing in that part of the country. But the professor deemed it wisest not to tell him. Ultimately they would have to set him free, and if he knew too much of their expedition he might make trouble for them with the other Indians.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and Nat was seated in the cabin reading a book on the Incas, when a hail from the pilot house brought him to his feet. Joe, who was at the wheel, was calling him.