Dave tried to figure out the contour of the landscape beneath them. He passed over high buildings, skirted what seemed like a factory district, and began to volplane.
"Going to drop?" queried Hiram.
"I think so," responded Dave. "According to those electric lights there is a park or some other large vacant space we can strike on this angle."
"The mischief!" exclaimed Hiram abruptly as the Racer struck a lower air current a strong blast of wind made it shake and reel. Then there was a creak, a sway and a snap.
"Something broke!" shouted Hiram in excitement.
"Yes," answered Dave rapidly. "It's one of the right outermost struts between the supporting planes."
"The one that snapped the other day," suggested Hiram.
"Likely. Grimshaw fixed it with glue and bracing, and fitting iron rings about it. The vibration of the motor and the straining have pulled the nail heads through the holes in the rings."
"Can you hold out?"
Dave did not reply. He felt new vibrations, and knew that the strain of warping the wings at the tips had caused more than one of the struts to collapse.