"Which way are we headed?" asked Mark, making his way back to the tower where Jack was.
"Almost due west," was the reply. "About two points to the south, too."
"Then we are being driven away from the north pole," said Mark.
"We're as helpless as kittens tied up in a sack," said Andy. "If only I could do something I'd feel better. But I've got to sit here and take what comes."
The sick man stirred uneasily. Then he muttered in his delirium something about the tornado that was tossing him from side to side of the bunk.
Strangely enough there was nothing to the storm but wind. There was no rain or snow, and the air was remarkably clear, excepting for the darkness of the clouds. Aside from the way in which the ship was blown along there was nothing to indicate that the breeze was rushing along at tempest speed. There were no trees bent to the earth, and no clouds of dust. The sky clouds kept pace with the airship.
"I wonder where we are?" asked Jack, who with Mark had come back from the tower.
"We'll have to guess at it," replied Andy. "It would be as much as a man's life is worth to go outside and take an observation."
"Don't hab to do dat," broke in Washington. "See here!"
He stooped over and pulled on an iron ring that was fastened in the floor of the dining-room cabin. A section of a board came up.