“Will the gas last?” inquired the young aviator, seriously.
“I am about to free our final reserve—one tank. That will do for a spell. Then—if I have to explode the balloonets into the main gas chamber, we must keep aloft till we are over land.”
Up—down—up—down—that was the progress for the next two hours. Once it was nearly a volplane drift, and the dauntless young pilot of the Albatross fancied they were headed for a dive straight into the ocean’s depths.
A final rise, and Dave’s heart cheered as he saw land not two miles distant. Professor Leblance rushed into the engine room.
“Drift!” he ordered—“let her drop as she likes now—we have arrived!”
The brave old scientist tottered from excitement and exhaustion as he spoke. A great, thrilling cheer seemed to lift from the lips of the young aviator, and ten minutes later the Albatross, a wobbling, flabby, weather-worn wreck, landed on a great dock in the sight of waiting thousands.
“Boy,” spoke Professor Leblance, in a ringing tone and with sparkling eyes, “we have reached goal! The giant airship has crossed the Atlantic!”
CHAPTER XXV
CONCLUSION
“This is Professor Leblance, I believe? We have been expecting you, sir.”
“And this is my friend and co-worker, David Dashaway,” spoke the French scientist, proudly.