“Will she make it, Tom?” cried Ned, above the roar and howl of the hurricane which seemed bent on destroying the globe-circling craft.
“Can’t tell yet,” was the grim answer. “We’re just about holding our own and no more!”
Tom had headed his craft into the very teeth of the strong wind, for this is the proper way in which to make an aeroplane rise. If the pilot should try to rise with the wind the chances are that his ship’s tail would flip up and he’d find himself standing on his head with the nose of the machine buried deep in the earth.
But such was the power of the wind, and such its peculiar downward pressing force that, for a time, it seemed that the ship would not rise. She seemed held down as by a giant’s hands.
“We’ve got to get up more speed!” yelled Tom to those in the motor room.
“I’m giving her all the gas she’ll take!” shouted Peltok.
“Turn on the super-charger!” the young inventor directed. “If ever we needed that high-test gas of mine we need it now!”
He referred to the new gasoline he had been experimenting on when he had to leap through the window of his shop to avoid being blown up.
“That ought to do the trick!” exclaimed Hartman, who had seen some demonstrations of the new fuel.
“Turn it on,” cried Tom again, and his mechanics made haste to carry out this order.