Jack now pushed the craft ahead at full speed. Faster and faster she went. Far below them lay the sullenly heaving ocean. Beyond, but very close now, was the yacht.
“All right, Tom. Get ready now.”
Tom jumped to his work. In a few seconds the novel aluminum hydroplanes were adjusted and fixed in place. The yacht was right below them now, but the figures on her deck were dwarfed to pigmies. Jack set the suction pump to work, reducing the gas supply in the bag.
Slowly at first, and then faster, the great air craft began to fall toward the gray sea. The propeller ceased revolving. In almost total silence, except for the boys’ quick breathing, the descent continued. Suddenly a wild cry split the air. It appeared to come from the Wondership itself.
“Let me out! Put me ashore! By the buck-jumping broncos of Butte, I wasn’t born for a watery grave!”
“Gracious!” cried Jack, in a startled tone, as a head of red hair poked itself out from under the seat, “we’ve got an aerial stowaway aboard!”
[CHAPTER IV.]
INTO THE THICK OF IT.
For the moment, the affairs of Dick Donovan,—our readers will have guessed that this first aerial stowaway on record was the young reporter,—had to wait. This drop through space was too thrilling, daring, dangerous for anyone on board to pay Dick more than passing attention. There was not even time to ask him who he was.