They were rising all the time now. The moon came out again and they could see that the ground ran sharply up in spurs and curves; the forest grew thinner, and for the next hour they were passing over the Urals. A gorgeous panorama was spread out below them. A world of white, made the more brilliant by the dark shadows of beetling crags with great rents and gashes in the glistening rock, seemingly fathomless pits of impenetrable blackness against the dazzling whiteness of the snow. A cold, hard, black and silver world, having something of unreality about it — the utter silence suggested death and desolation. Seen thus, the Urals might well have been the veritable mountains of the moon — a place where man had never been, could never go, where only evil lurked in the baleful, unrelenting light.
When they sank again to the foothills and forests on the other side De Richleau said: “I think I shall try to sleep for a little now. Wake me at once if you need me.”
“I certainly will, but I don’t figure I’ll have to. She’s going fine; the cold’s the only thing that gets me.”
De Richleau buried his head in his big fur collar, and wriggled down into a more comfortable position. The even hum of the engines soothed him, and he soon dropped off. The ’plane sped on, ever westward.
The Duke was awake again before six and peering out into the half-light. By glancing at his watch he realized that they must have come many degrees to the south during the night for the dawn to be so early. At first he feared that they had swerved off their course. He turned to Rex.
Rex saw him move, and yawned sleepily. “Thank God you’ve come to life. I’ve been terrified I’d drop off to sleep with no one to talk to.”
“Where are we? Do you know?”
“Haven’t the faintest, but we’ve kept on the dotted line all right I’m sick of the sight of this compass and nothing else to look at.” Rex yawned again.
De Richleau got out the map and began to search for landmarks by the aid of the increasing light. He had not long to wait before he found one about which there could be no possible mistake. Far below them lay a great broad river; it curved in an enormous horseshoe, extending over many miles, and on its southern bend straggled a dark patch of clustering houses. As they came nearer, it became clear that it was a city of some considerable size.
“Samara,” said the Duke, with conviction; “and the river is the mighty Volga. Look at it well, my friend; who knows if you will ever see it again.”