Morning was just breaking as they sat down to partake of the simple meal. Neither of them seemed to care for much. It was indeed no time for feasting, or making merry, when the day had probably dawned that was to settle their mission, one way or the other.
"One thing good," remarked Andy, hopefully, "there doesn't seem to be any strong wind blowing this morning."
Frank had been studying the lay of the land in the glade.
"I tell you we're going to have all we can do to squeeze up out of here without scraping against any tree before we can rise above them," he observed, presently.
"But don't you think we can do it?" demanded his chum, anxiously watching his expressive face.
"I think it is possible," came the slow reply; which after all gave Andy new cause for distrust; since his cousin was so cautious a fellow that he seldom if ever gushed over anything; at the same time he never expressed doubts when he felt positive.
"But!" cried Andy, "there's no other way to fly; we couldn't take the aeroplane to another place; and I reckon there isn't a cleared field within ten miles of here."
"No, it must be done right where we are. Now, I'm going to measure the opening to find out its widest dimensions. Then we will take the monoplane as far back as we can, and make all arrangements for a rapid start. But to rise above those trees, even the shortest of them, is going to call for considerable management, and some great good luck in the bargain."
"But, Frank, you've done it before," declared Andy. "You know you made lots of short starts that beat all the records. That's your best hold. And, Frank, we've just got to get out of here. Everything depends on it."
"Sure," responded Frank, cheerily enough; "and we'll manage somehow, never fear. Now to foot off the space. Count to yourself, and we'll compare notes when I get to the other side. This looks the widest range, according to my eye."