He sat up in his berth, and could make out a dim light in the room beyond. He listened and heard Hiram breathing heavily.
“He’s fast asleep, anyhow,” decided the young aviator. “It takes a good deal to disturb him. But we sure are moving. I wonder——?”
Such a strange thought came to him that he hesitated to put it into form. But he decided to reason it out.
“Can it be?” he mused, “that I have slept through a whole night and day without knowing it, and that we are on the move again. Can anything have happened—to me—or the others? Have—I been unconscious—hurt—and not have known what has happened? It doesn’t seem possible, and yet——”
His self-communing was interrupted by a more violent motion of the airship. It seemed to careen to one side, and then right itself. Dave found himself clutching the sides of his bunk. Then came a period of calm.
“I’m going to wake Hiram up,” decided Dave. “He may not like it, but I want to talk to some one about this, and if he gets mad, in case it isn’t anything, he can easily get to sleep again. And that’s what I won’t do unless I find out what’s going on.”
Dave cautiously got out of bed. As he did so he again felt the lurch of the big craft. At the same time he heard a voice speaking softly outside.
“By hickory!” came the tones. “I don’t seem to be movin’ th’ ole shebang much. Guess I’ll hev t’ go git another mule critter or two t’ snake it away. Whoa there!”
“What in the name of sweet spirits of nitre is going on?” murmured Dave. “Is some one trying to steal the Albatross?”
He crossed softly to look out of one of the windows, but could see nothing. The big headlights had been extinguished, and, save for some few incandescents here and there, which were only dimly glowing there was no illumination inside the ship. It had been decided to make it dark so all hands would sleep better.