“Did you ever witness the like!” awesomely cried Bruno, gazing like one fascinated. “Who could or would ever believe all that, even if tongue were able to portray its wondrous beauty?”
“What a place that would be for popping corn!” contributed Waldo, practical or nothing, even under such peculiar circumstances. “If I had to play poppy, though, I'd want a precious long handle to the concern!”
More intensely interested than ever, Professor Featherwit plied his shutter, taking shot after shot at yonder aerial phenomena, feeling that future generations would surely rise up to call him blessed when the results of his experiments were once fairly spread before the world.
And hence it came to pass that still more thrilling experiences came unto these daring navigators of space, and that almost before one or the other of them could fairly realise that greater danger really menaced both their air-ship and their lives.
Another whirly-gust of sand and other debris assailed the flying-machine, and while sight was thus rendered almost useless for the time being, the aerostat began to sway and reel from side to side, shivering as though caught by an irresistible power, yet against which it battled as though instinct with life and brain-power.
Once again the adventurers found it difficult to breathe, while an unseen power seemed pressing them to that floor as though—Thank heaven!
Just as before, that cloud was swept away, and again air came to fill those painfully oppressed lungs. Once again the trio cleared their eyes and stared about, only to utter simultaneous cries of alarm.
For, brief though that period of blindness had been, 'twas amply sufficient to carry the aeromotor perilously near yonder storm-centre, and though Professor Featherwit gripped hard his tiller, trying all he knew to turn the air-ship for a safer quarter,-'twas all in vain!
“Haste,—make haste, uncle Phaeton!” hoarsely panted Bruno, leaning to aid the professor. “We will be sucked in and—hasten, for life!”
“I can't,—we're already—in the—suction!”