“Well, a craft of this kind is vastly different from an aeroplane,” commented the man of science. “It is my belief that the aerial trans-Atlantic liner of the future will be a dirigible.”
“I wouldn’t mind undertaking the trip in the Discoverer,” declared Nat, with glowing eyes and cheeks.
“What speed are we making?” inquired Joe Hartley.
“About forty miles an hour,” said the professor; “but you can tell the exact speed by stepping into the pilot-house and examining the instruments.”
The lads followed his advice, and found that the speed recorder registered a shade more than the professor had assumed. Mr. Tubbs had the wheel, and was gazing straight ahead, like a steamboat pilot.
The pilot-house of the Discoverer, in fact, was not unlike that of a steamer, although much smaller, of course. The registers and indicators, too, that were fastened to the walls, or rather the framework of the Discoverer’s “hull,” were totally unlike any that the lads had seen before.
Joe Hartley, who had been appointed chief cook and bottle washer, soon left, to begin his preparations for lunch. But Nat lingered on, fascinated. Joe’s meal proved an excellent one, and the fact that they were so high above the earth did not affect the boys’ appetites in the least. In fact, Ding-dong Bell observed that he had never felt so hungry in all his life before.
After the meal was concluded, the motors of the craft were slowed down a bit, so as to economize on gasolene as much as possible. The fact that the westerly wind had increased made it possible to slow the engine down and still make good progress.
“I wonder what they think of us down below there?” said Joe, as he stood by Nat’s side, leaning over the forward deck-rail and watching the dwarfed figures of the inhabitants of a village above which they were passing, scurrying to and fro like ants.
“I guess they must think we are some sort of demoniacal bird,” grinned Nat. “Hark!”