“You people had better go to bed,” he directed all hands. “My men will attend to securing the machine safe and sound. We can do nothing now until morning.”
This order was obeyed. Dave and Hiram had what might be called a stateroom to themselves. It was narrow, but cozy. It had a window opening, and there the young aviator posted himself for some time.
By the aid of the headlights Dave could make out Leblance and his men securing the Albatross. The craft seemed to have landed on flat land rather bare of verdure and with no trees.
“An ideal spot for landing,” Dave reported to his comrade.
“Yes, but where are we?” questioned Hiram.
“In some wild mountain district, I should say,” responded Dave—“maybe Virginia, maybe North Carolina.”
“Well, it has been a dandy cruise,” declared Hiram. “Say, I’ve gone through so much excitement I don’t believe I can sleep a wink.”
“Try it, anyhow,” recommended Dave. “There may be a lot to do in the morning, and we want to be rested and strong to take our share in it.”
How long he rested Dave Dashaway did not know, but he was suddenly awakened by feeling the Albatross moving. At first he imagined that he must be dreaming, for certainly he did not think they would start off again after making a landing with such trouble.
“But she sure is moving,” decided the lad, “though not in the air, if my senses are good for anything. That is unless we’re bumping along a cloud bank.”