Morning was now rapidly advancing. The far eastern heavens had begun to take on a beautiful rosy flush, such as can be seen in no place in the wide world to better advantage than in Florida, of a winter's morning.
Every eye was instantly engaged in scouring that expanse of water, searching eagerly for a sign of the castaway balloonists. Frank even had his marine glasses leveled, and, first of all, scanned the horizon, hoping that possibly the air craft might have been able to keep afloat thus far through strenuous methods known to such a veteran sky pilot as the professor.
He was disappointed, however, for the only things that met his gaze were a few white gulls.
"What's that floating on the water over yonder, Frank?" demanded sharp-eyed Will, pointing down the coast a little.
A thrill passed through every heart. Had the lost air voyagers been sighted, and would they be rescued, after all?
Frank had his glasses focussed upon the object almost instantly.
"Too bad, fellows! Only a bunch of brown pelicans floating on the sea and waiting until breakfast time comes around," he said at once.
A chorus of remarks indicative of disappointment followed. Meantime, as the speed of the boat was rushed up to near the limit of twelve miles, and they fairly flew over the comparatively smooth gulf, each boy continued to scan the water, hoping to be the first to report success.
"How long since they passed over, do you think?" asked practical Bluff.
"I should say all of an hour," was Frank's ready response.