The gloom slowly deepened; mountains and plain began to grow dim and mysterious. The “Ogden II,” some distance away, revealed itself by ghostly patches of grayish white and formless shadows; and, finally, night closed around them.
The two found it difficult to keep their restless feelings in check, often pacing to and fro, while the flames sent their shadows fantastically over the ground.
Hour after hour dragged out its tedious course; but, to the joy and relief of both, the wind began to lessen and the gaps in the clouds to constantly increase in size. Shafts of silvery light fell across the plain; the snow on Eagles’ Peak shone with a spectral luster, while mountain crags and timbered slopes appeared in places where before were only gloomy masses of dark.
“Isn’t this great luck, Cranny!” cried Bob.
“Corking! What jolly sport it would be but for——”
“That’s so,” said Bob.
Half an hour later, the impatient boys decided that it was safe to make a start.
The moon was shining brilliantly as they stamped out the fire. Then Bob, followed by Cranny, walked briskly toward the “Ogden II.”
The hum of the engine and whirr of the propeller blades soon rose on the air. Under the skilful guidance of Bob Somers, the biplane began to soar toward the silvery-edged clouds which still drifted in the grayish expanse of blue.
Higher, still higher, with the moon sending a faint, queer-shaped shadow over the prairie, rose the “Ogden II.” A vast, seemingly unreal world opened out before them, as they swiftly winged their way toward the mountains. Unheard exclamations of astonishment and delight came continually from Cranny’s lips.