“The rockets are propelled by the steady combustion of carbon in liquid oxygen.”
“I have an idea that they must be taking the Greyhound a long distance from home.”
They were.
Four days later Epworth and his sister, Joan, were still following the stolen airship—and were flying over an unknown portion of the Arctic Ocean. Below them there was a vast sea of ice.
CHAPTER III
An Arctic Blizzard
On and on, over pale gray wastes, above fleecy clouds and heavy fogs; high up over tossing waters, and floating mountains of ice—not a stop for fuel, with engines silenced until they flew like bats in the night, the Greyhound leading the way, and Epworth sticking to it like a dark, hungry shadow with his ship lines camouflaged by sky blue paint, and his eyes ever vigilant.
How Billy managed to keep the three red lights going notwithstanding the fact that he was a captive was a mystery that Epworth did not attempt to solve. It was being done, and Epworth was contented to follow.
At last Northeastern Siberia, and a mysterious range of mountains. Epworth, taking his position, knew them for the Cherski Mountains, recently discovered and completely unexplored—a barren, cold, lifeless region bordering on the Arctic Ocean a thousand miles from the outmost limits.
How long would this journey last? Where would the Greyhound lead? Had the sky bandits discovered that they were being followed, and were they leading him into a death trap amid a vast wilderness of ice?
He examined his gas supply. Joan looked at him inquiringly.