“How about the mountains?”
“We can easily rise high enough to cross them. Beyond, according to my maps, is a great stretch of plain. By George, it will be time enough to crawl when we reach it.”
“It’s certain there ain’t no danger, Major,” said Kindale. Then, as the financier walked impatiently away, he added, in an aside to Willie: “That’s him—don’t never know when he’s beat, an’ never will. Likely as not we’ll sail around the whole earth.”
Although the aeronauts continued to make every effort to get the “Border City” under control, it drifted on and on, while the wind gradually increased in force.
The pursuit of the biplane highly exasperated the financier.
“I admire the courage of those lads,” he stormed, “but it’s absolutely foolhardy, as well as useless. But for the rugged foot-hills below us, I’d descend right now, rather than have them run any further risks.”
“It’s the plains, or nothing, now, for the ‘Border City,’” said Kindale, dryly.
Occasionally Willie lent his small stock of strength in aiding the men to empty heavy bags of sand. As they rose higher, the immense panorama outstretched before his eyes gave him a peculiar feeling of awe.
The biplane finally approached, but Kindale, still struggling hard with the refractory batteries, made no effort to see it.
Major Carroll’s hailing of Bob Somers and the sight of the “Ogden II,” flying like an enormous bird so close at hand, seemed more like a strange dream than reality to Willie Sloan. So did the remarkable actions of the eagle.