He switched on a few interior lights, and by their glow the faint and starving platinum-seekers found water and food. Their craft had, apparently, not been touched in their absence, and the machinery ran well.
Cautiously they ate and drank, feeling their strength come back to them, and then they removed the traces of their terrible imprisonment, and set about in ease and comfort, talking of what they had suffered.
Onward sped the aeroplane, onward through the night, and then Tom, having set the automatic steering gear, all fell into heavy slumbers that lasted until far into the next day.
When the young inventor awoke he looked below and could see nothing—nothing but a sea of mist.
"What's this?" he cried. "Are we above the clouds, or in a fog over some inland sea?"
He was quite worried, until Ivan Petrofsky informed him that they were in the midst of a dense fog, which was common over that part of Siberia.
"But where are we?" asked Ned.
"About over the province of Irtutsk," was the answer. "We are heading north," he went on, as he looked at the compass, "and I think about right to land somewhere near where my brother is confined in the sulphur mine."
"That's so; we've got to drop," said Tom. "I must get the gas pipe repaired. I wish we could see over what soft of a place we were so as to know whether it would be safe to land. I wish the mist would clear away."
It did, about noon, and they noted that they were over a desolate stretch of country, in which it would be safe to make a landing.