It was a ticklish undertaking. If, under the thrust of her powerful motors, she went head on into one wall or the other of the cañon, Tom was pretty sure that the Winged Arrow would never get out of the heart of this giant iceberg.
“If we leave both the plane and Mr. Damon’s treasure here in the ice, we shall certainly have to mark this venture down as a total loss,” murmured Tom, to his chum.
“Huh! we won’t mark anything down,” replied Ned. “We will have a hot time ever getting to land. Don’t forget that.”
“I am not likely to overlook it,” confessed the young inventor. “I never had one of my inventions put to so severe a test before. And our lives, you must remember, depend upon the thing working right.”
“Go on. Do your worst,” urged Ned. “If I am to spend the rest of my natural life on this chunk of ice, I want to know it as soon as possible. Let’s get it over.”
Tom would not do a thing in haste, however. Not until he had made sure that the mechanism would work perfectly did he signal Brannigan to start his motors. He stood at the controls until the motors were roaring well before he started the propellers.
The huge boat began to move slowly. Almost at once she lifted under the pressure of the propellers. Her nose came up like the head of a spirited horse. Mr. Wakefield Damon gave voice to one of his excited explosions:
“Bless all my kites and balloons, she’s going up!”
“That’s what we want!” exclaimed Ned. “The higher, the better!”
She was going up! Better than she had ever taken the air before. Everybody in the pilot room broke into a cheer, and Tom Swift was as proud as ever he had felt before in his life over anything he had built.