At a height of 290 feet she paused.
Just then Frank entered the turret.
He saw at a glance what had happened.
“We’ll have to keep up in the sky to avoid those beggars,” he remarked.
“Dey’s boun’ ter git aboa’d.”
“Apparently. But they won’t succeed.”
“Gwine ahead, sah?”
“Yes. Right on along the strait.”
The coon started the boat along through the frozen sky, and the fine, needle-like particles that filled the air blew into their faces so strongly that they were forced to close the window.
The natives were left out of sight astern.