“We are evidently in some remote spot,” the Frenchman was saying. “All the better that, for we shall have no troublesome visitors. My men can attend to the balloonet and some other needful repairs while we send for that quicksilver.”
“Which means the location of the nearest town?” submitted the airman. “There was so much excitement last night I forgot to ask that old mountaineer. But we must locate a store.”
“Exactly.”
“And that may be somewhat difficult.”
“Perhaps,” agreed the Frenchman, “but once down in the valley yonder it is to be supposed there are some tokens of civilization.”
“Who is to go?” inquired Mr. Dale.
“I think you had better entrust the matter to me, Professor,” said the aviator. “Here, let one of the boys—you, Dashaway—go with me.”
“I shall be glad,” said Dave, eagerly.
“Hold on,” broke in Hiram; “give me a show too; won’t you, Mr. King?”
The aviator took a brief look at the earnest, beseeching face of the willing and accommodating young aeronaut, and smiled indulgently.