On a Torn-Away World Part 7

The ranges of hills--some of them dignified enough to be termed "mountains"--which they crossed necessitated their flying high. They were generally at an alt.i.tude of two thousand feet and the rarefied atmosphere so far above the earth was cool, anyway. Since leaving St.

Thomas, on the bank of the St. Lawrence, they had averaged eighty miles an hour, and before moonrise they were cognizant of the fact that they were approaching a great sheet of water.

"St. James Bay, the lower part of Hudson Bay," Professor Henderson explained.

Soon the moonlight shimmered upon the waves beneath them. Jack, who was guiding the craft, deflected the wings and they slid down the airways toward the water. They traveled all night over this great inland sea, at times so close to the surface that the leaping waves sprinkled them with their spray--for there was a stiff breeze.

A gale broke in earnest over the Hudson Bay territory that day, and despite the efforts of the voyagers they could not rise in the _s...o...b..rd_ above the tempest. Had there been solid ground beneath them they could easily have descended and remained upon terra firma until the storm was past.

This gale was favorable to their course, but it gripped them in its giant grasp and hurled them on into the northwest at a speed that imperiled the safety of the flying machine each moment. There was no sleep for any of the party now, and Washington White came pretty near (as Jack said) "making good his name in his face"--for if ever a darkey of Wash's ebony complexion turned pale, the professor's servant did so at this juncture.

On and on they were driven hour after hour. Scarcely a word was spoken the entire time. There was no cessation of the gale. The great body of water was pa.s.sed and they knew that there was land beneath them again. But each time they tried to descend they found the storm near the earth-crust far heavier than at the upper levels.

To descend through the belt of the storm might partially wreck their flying machine and the professor knew, by the study of his recording instruments, that they were pa.s.sing over an utter wilderness in which no help could be obtained and from which, should they be wrecked, they could not escape before the rigorous Arctic winter set in.

Hour after hour they drove on. The speed of the _s...o...b..rd_ at times, when driven by the full force of the gale, had mounted to one hundred thirty miles an hour.

Great Slave Lake was far south of their route; yet the professor told them that, had it been clear, at the alt.i.tude they traveled, they could have seen and marked this great body of water.

They actually crossed the Great Bear Lake and the Mackenzie River, however, and saw the ragged peaks of the Rocky Mountains, which here almost touch the sh.o.r.es of the Arctic Sea. Blown on and on, with little diminution of speed, it was not many hours before the _s...o...b..rd_ was flying over Alaskan wilds. The flying machine had kept closely to the course the professor had laid out for her when they left Maine. They were still headed for the slopes of the Endicott Range and the native town of Aleukan.

The question paramount in all their minds, however, was this: Would they reach their destination in safety?

CHAPTER VII

DROPPED FROM THE SKY

A thick mantle of fog masked the heavens; but beneath this the wind--traveling at great velocity--drove the ragged clouds like frightened sheep across the pastures of the firmament.

The moon and stars gave so little light that the earth seemed but a vague and shadowy ma.s.s--nothing more. The wind shrieked in many voices, as though a troop of goblins raced through the air, or rode the strangely formed and hurrying clouds.

Driven on with the tumbling banks of vapor, as vaguely outlined in the gloom as the clouds themselves, was the great flying machine, which the wind buffeted and harried about as though against it Old Boreas had some special spite.

Jack was in the operator's seat; but there was little to do but hang on to the steering wheel. The wind blew them as it listed.

"I don't well see how anybody can sleep in this horrid storm,"

complained Mark Sampson. "And the machine rocks so--ugh! I'm as sick as though we were at sea." "And we are pretty completely 'at sea,'"

chuckled the more volatile Jack. "I hope the professor knows where we are. _I_ don't!"

"And I don't see how he can tell," grumbled his chum.

"Pluck up your spirits, old man!" returned the older lad, but Mark interrupted him, still crossly:

"I hope I am as courageous as the next. We've done some funny stunts together, Jack Darrow--you and I and the old professor. But this caps them all, I declare. It's a mystery to me how Mr. Henderson and Andy Sudds can remain asleep."

"Well, they are both tired out, I reckon. They had a long watch--and _we_ slept, you know."

"That was a long time ago," grunted Mark,

"It's pretty tough, I admit," said Jack, when Washington White broke in with:

"Hi, yi! Whuffo' you boys be sech cowards? Is _I_ skeert? Huh!"

"You bet you're scared," returned Jack, emphatically. "When we got caught in that flaw yesterday afternoon he wanted to jump out; didn't he, Mark?"

"Wash certainly tried to climb out," rejoined Mark.

"Well, den! dat showed I warn't no coward," crowed the black man, though in a very shaky voice. "If I'd been scart', would I really have wanted ter jump? It was a might long way to de groun' right den, I guess."

Suddenly the Shanghai crowed loudly.

"Tell yo' what!" cried the black man, scratching his head. "Dat rooster done crow fo' company."

"Company!" gasped Mark. "What does he think he hears up here--angels'

wings? We're about as near being in the company of the celestial hosts as we'll ever be and remain alive, I reckon."

"No, sah!" retorted Washington. "Dat Shanghai done know dat we is near some oder fow-el----"

"Up here in the air, Wash?" cried Jack.

"Dunno whar dey is," said the darkey, doggedly. "Dar he crows ergin!

Dar is suttenly critters ob his kind nearby--yes--sah!"

It may have been the Shanghai's raucous tone that aroused Andy. The old hunter suddenly appeared on the platform behind the operator's seat, where the boys and Wash were clinging, and Andy brought his rifle with him.

"Hullo!" he said. "Is the watch called?"

"I'm sorry if we awoke you, Andy," Jack said. "There is nothing for you to do."

"Nothing to shoot at; eh?" said the old hunter. "I reckon I ain't of much use in a flying machine, anyway. Sort of 'up in the air'; ain't I?"

"That's where we all are," complained Mark. "And I, for one, wish we were down again."

"Guess we're all with you in that wish, old man," agreed Jack.

As he spoke, the wind-blown figure of the professor hove into view from the small, sheltered cabin. He glanced at the various indicators and the compa.s.s in front of Jack.

"We are all in safety yet; are we, boys?" he queried.

"If you can call being driven helplessly before such a gale and about a mile above the earth _safe_," retorted Mark.

"Surely not as high as that," exclaimed Professor Henderson. He examined the instruments again, and said, quickly: "We are descending! How is that, Jack?"

"Not with my knowledge, sir," returned the boy aviator. "I think we have remained on the thousand-foot level since crossing the Rocky Mountains."

"I believe you have been faithful, my boy," returned the professor, quickly. "But the earth is certainly less than three hundred feet below us--ah! see that? The indicator registers 250 feet. Now 240!" "We are falling!" cried Mark.