Frank selected a charming little glade in a wild tract of forest near
the banks of a river.
Here he made descent.
The airship rested upon the ground, and the travelers were all glad
enough to get out and stretch their legs after the long journey in air.
But first the Dart was securely anchored to make sure that she did not
go off of a sudden and leave them.
Then Barney and Pomp brought out their elephant rifles.
“Now for sport!” cried Frank. “I presume though, professor, you would
prefer to do something else.”
“I will remain near the airship and amuse myself,” replied the
scientist. “Yonder is a rare species of butterfly I want.”
Leaving him to pursue the winged beauty, Frank, with Barney and Pomp,
set out upon their hunt.
In a very short time they were deep in the forest and having rare sport.
Game was almost too plentiful.
The abundance of pheasants and hares almost took the edge off of the
sport. The trio were soon loaded down.
But, as was natural, they now began to consider the feasibility of
bagging larger game.
Even as they were discussing this an elephant was heard trumpeting in
the distance, and at that moment Frank caught sight of some tracks in
the soft soil.
“A lion has been this way!” he declared. “We could not find greater
sport than that.”
“Bejabers, I’m wid yez!” cried Barney.
“Huh! Don’t be so brave!” sniffed Pomp. “Did yo’ ever the baste!”
“Bejabers, no! But me ancisters hunted the Irish elk,” retorted Barney.
“Don’t yez be so smart to think ye’re in yez own counthry.”
But Frank had already taken the lion’s trail.
For some distance it could be plainly followed. Then Frank shrewdly
guessed the truth.
“The animal was going for water,” he declared. “If we hide somewhere
hereabouts he will pass this way again.”
They had come out upon the verge of a wide, grassy plain.
But a pile of bowlders near afforded a good hiding place as well as a
rampart. Here they waited.
Frank knew enough about lions to know that this was the safest way to
hunt them.
The hunters had not to wait long.
Suddenly a sound came from the forest which almost made the ground
tremble. It gave our hunters a mighty start.
It was the roar of a lion. The king of beasts was near.
“Sh!” exclaimed Frank, in a whisper. “Don’t let him see you!”
The next moment the monster came in sight.
And he was a monster. A larger specimen our friends had never seen. He
stood just in the verge of the woods.
For a moment he sniffed the air as if he scented his foes. Then he came
slowly along the path.
It was evident that he was going down to the river for water.
He would surely pass within twenty yards of the hunters. They were all
in readiness. It was a critical moment.
Now the lion was just opposite.
Frank raised his rifle and took very careful aim. He made the beast’s
side just back of the shoulder the mark, hoping to reach the heart.
Then he pulled the trigger.
However, a movement upon the lion’s part caused the ball to strike in
the shoulder. The animal leaped in the air and came down facing the
covert from which the shot had come.
“Look out!” cried Frank. “He’s coming! Take careful aim!”
There was need of this. With a roar which was deafening the lion made a
forward spring.
But he never reached the covert.
Barney and Pomp fired almost in the same moment. One or both bullets
struck a vital part, for the beast rolled over upon the ground and lay
motionless.
“Whurroo!” yelled Barney, delightedly. “We’ve killed the baste!”
And he was about to dash out of the covert, when Frank clutched his arm.
“Hold on!” cried the young inventor.
“Yis, sor.”
“Don’t be reckless. There may be a mate to that fellow near.”
The warning was well timed. Indeed, a frightful roar was heard, and from
another thicket a second lion bounded forth.
This was too much for Barney. He subsided at once and was submissive as
a lamb.
The second lion seemed fiercer and larger than the first. The beast
remained for some moments stationary, but roaring and lashing its tail.
Then suddenly it began to advance until quite near its mate’s side. The
scent of the blood was enough.
With long strides the monster came straight for the covert where the
hunters were confined.
Frank had just time to shout:
“Look out! He is coming!”
Then the beast was upon them.
The three rifles cracked almost at point-blank range. But what was most
singular was the fact that not one bullet took effect.
The lion came on and straight over the pile of bowlders.
It had already became evident that the hunters might expect a close
encounter. This was a thrilling exigency to face.
“Whurroo!” shouted Barney, wildly. “Luk out fer yersilves ivery wan!
Shure, the baste is roight here!”
This was the truth.
The next moment the lion was over the bowlders. Again the hunters fired.
But either the bullets went wide or did not strike a vital part.
The lion came on, just the same.
He struck Barney full force. The Celt went down as if struck by a
thunderbolt. The lion, however, was unable to cheek his momentum.
He slipped and slid on the rocks for some yards. The quick presence of
mind of Frank Reade, Jr., saved the day.
The young inventor raised his rifle quick as a flash and fired again.
This time the bullet went to the mark. It took effect in the lion’s
vitals, and the battle was quickly over.
The huge beast tumbled in a heap. Barney was instantly upon his feet.
“Begorra, I niver got such a basting as that afore!” he grumbled,
rubbing his arm. “Shure, the crather nigh kilt me.”
“We can congratulate ourselves upon a very lucky escape,” declared
Frank. “There was little chance for us. If the lion had closed his jaws
upon any one of us it would have been a serious matter.”
It was decided to strip the noble beasts of their skins, and then return
to the airship.
The hunt had proved a glowing success, and all were well satisfied.
It did not take Barney and Pomp long to flay the lions. They were
magnificent skins, and would make beautiful robes when properly dressed.
Upon returning to the Dart, Professor Gaston was found busily arranging
some botanical specimens.
He listened to the account of the lion hunt with interest.
“There are plenty of sportsmen in America,” he declared, “who would give
a large sum for the sport you have just enjoyed, could they purchase it.
You are fortunate.”
As nothing was to be gained by lingering longer in the vicinity, Frank
caused the Dart to rise and the journey was resumed.
Once more the airship was speeding over the African wilds.
The next day they came in sight of a mighty lake.
“Albert Nyanza Lake!” declared Frank. “One of the sources of the Nile.”
Professor Gaston was much interested, and took notes of the event. Other
lakes were crossed, and the Mountains of the Moon were sighted.
Then the airship bore away to the northeastward. It was Frank’s purpose
now to reach the North Pole in the quickest possible time.
Days passed into weeks.
Still the Dart kept on across the Indian Ocean, over India, and the
summits of the Himalayas.
Then came Indo-China and the Siberian country. The Steppes were passed
over and finally the shores of the Arctic were reached in the vicinity
of the delta of the Lena river.
Here it was deemed best to make a descent, as the engines of the Dart
had been running so long at such pressure that they really needed
attention.
So a descent was made at the verge of a small plateau, which was thickly
covered with Arctic firs.
“From here,” said Frank, “we shall proceed directly over the Arctic
Ocean and locate the North Pole inside of a month. Then we can go home.”
“After a most successful trip!” declared Professor Gaston,
enthusiastically.
“Do not say that as yet,” said Frank. “We have not reached the end of
our journey as yet.”
“Still you do not apprehend any serious times in locating the North
Pole, do you? Are not all of the natives friendly?”
“Possibly,” replied Frank, “but there are very many perils to consider.
At any moment some accident might happen to the airship and we would
then be in a bad fix.”
“Ugh! don’t speak of it!” said the professor, shrugging his shoulders.
“I don’t like to think of it.”
Barney and Pomp were for a time very busy in overhauling the machinery
of the Dart.
Some of the bearings had to be replaced and there were many little
repairs that occupied a couple of days.
Then all rested from their labors on the third day, which was the
Sabbath. A quiet day was made of it and the arrangement was that the
start was to be made the next morning.
Barney was the first abroad and was quickly made acquainted with an
incident which thrilled him greatly.
The river was but a few yards distant. He walked leisurely down to the
shore to get a bucket of water when he heard a cry for help.
It was rendered in a foreign tongue which he did not understand. Barney
looked up in amazement and saw drifting down on the current of the river
a raft upon which was a half-naked man.
A fearful specimen of humanity he was, and Barney gazed at him in
stupefaction.
“Mither av mercy!” he gasped. “Phwativer can it be?”
Indeed there was good cause for Barney’s horrified remark.
The occupant of the raft was a powerful-framed man, evidently a Russian,
with full beard and long straggling locks.
His face was ghastly white and he clung feebly to the raft and waved his
arms wildly.
Above his waist he was naked, and to one wrist was fastened a manacle.
He was evidently nigh starved and half dead from exposure.
“Whist there!” shouted Barney. “Who the mischief are yez?”
The man replied, but it was in the Russian tongue which the Celt did not
understand.
But the Celt saw from the fellow’s action what he wanted, and that this
was a rope to assist him to get ashore.
Now Barney had not one at hand, but he shouted:
“Howld an an’ I’ll get a rope. Shure, I’ll help ye!”
And away went the whole-souled Irishman back to the airship.
The raft was drifting very slowly so he had plenty of time.
But when he reached the Dart his first move was to sound the alarm. Very
quickly all hands were on deck.
“What’s the matter?” asked Frank, who came up with his rifle in his
hand.
“Shure, sor, there’s a poor divil out there on a raft as wants help!”
cried Barney.
“On a raft?”
“Yis, sor.”
“Dear me!” exclaimed Professor Gaston. “Let us hasten to his relief!”
Frank Reade, Jr., was only half dressed, but he did not wait to complete
his toilet. He went over the rail like a flash and with Barney rushed
down to the river.
The Celt had brought a long rope with him. The raft had drifted nearer
the shore.
Frank had a smattering of Russian among his varied accomplishments, and
he shouted to the fellow:
“Who are you, and how came you here?”
“I am Nicolas Nafetodi, good sir,” was the reply. “Oh, give me food, but
for the love of God do not take me back to that fearful prison!”
“Ah!” cried Frank. “Then you are a convict?”
“Sentenced to exile for a crime of which I am not guilty!” replied the
poor fellow. “Have mercy upon me!”
“You are right we will!” cried Frank, who was well familiar with the
peculiarities of Russian justice.
“Have courage, my friend!”
“Bejabers, hang on to the rope!”
Barney swung it aloft and sent it circling out into the river. It fell
with accuracy across the raft.
The exile grasped it and in a few moments the raft was pulled to the
shore. He staggered up the river bank.
Certainly he was an object of pity at that moment. Wretched, disheveled
and pallid he looked a fit subject for a hospital.
The voyagers would have been heartless indeed to have refused him aid.
For aught they knew he might be a hardened criminal. But Frank Reade,
Jr., took a good look at his face and decided vastly in his favor.
There were honest lines in it which he knew could not belie the owner’s
nature.
So Nicolas Nafetodi was led to the airship and Pomp procured food for
him.
He ate ravenously, and then being much refreshed told his story. It was
indeed a pitiful one.
“My father,” he said, “was a well-to-do merchant in St. Petersburg. I
was favored with plenty of money from an inheritance and formed the
acquaintance of many wealthy youths of my own age.
“I will not make the story long, but suffice it to say that I had
trouble with one who belong to the nobility.
“We loved Olga Nanarovitch, the daughter of Prince Nanarovitch. She
favored my suit and from that hour Count Pietro Valdstedt was my sworn
foe.
“In an unwary moment I was decoyed into the house of a Nihilist. Before
I could take my departure the police descended upon the place and I was
taken with the rest.
“I was thrown into prison. Valdstedt hired villains to swear to forged
evidence against me. My trial was in secret, and I was not allowed the
assistance of friends.
“I was banished for conspiracy against the Czar. It was the vilest wrong
ever done any living man.
“But I had no redress. For eight long years I have been a slave at
convict labor, with chains to bind me, and almost starvation as my
reward.
“I have endured tortures until a month since I managed to escape.
“I made a raft and drifted down the Lena. I knew not—I cared not—where
it took me so long as it was away from that hated prison.
“But even now I know that the hounds of the prison are after me. They
have crossed the country to intercept me, and may be upon me at any
moment. Before God I pray you, if you have not hearts of stone, do not
give me up to them!
“I am innocent of the crimes charged against me as God in heaven knows!
I beg of you to have mercy upon me!”
The fervid appeal reached the heart of every one of the voyagers.
Frank interpreted the story to them, and then taking the poor wretch’s
hand, said:
“They shall never take you while we live. We believe your story and will
aid you.”
The poor fellow burst into tears. He fairly embraced Frank in his joy.
“Surely there will be a reward for you up there,” he said, devoutly,
pointing upward. “You will not be punished for helping the poor
convict.”
Barney procured some decent clothes for the escaped exile.
Then Frank said:
“Now in what way can we best give you aid? What are your plans or
desires?”
“I wish to get back to St. Petersburg,” replied Nicolas.
“But will you not fall again into the hands of the law?”
“Ah, but I will not be there an hour before I will have the necessary
evidence to clear the stain from my name.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I know it.”
“Then, upon my word,” cried Frank, “I will take you back to St.
Petersburg in my airship!”
The Russian exile looked surprised.
“How?” he asked.
Frank repeated the assertion. Nicolas looked mystified until Frank
explained to him the workings of the famous airship.
The Russian listened with wonderment. Indeed he was almost incredulous.
“And you have come across Siberia in that?” he asked.
“More than that. Completely around the world,” replied Frank.
Nicolas drew a deep breath.
“You Americans are wonderful people,” he declared. “Anything is possible
to you!”
“I suppose your love, Olga, is lost to you by this time,” declared
Frank. “The other fellow has probably won her.”
Nicolas drew himself up.
“Ah, you do not know the depth of Russian love!” he declared. “Olga is
still true to me. Only three months ago I heard from her, and that she
was spending her fortune to get evidence to clear me.”
“Noble woman!” replied Frank. “I trust she will succeed.”
“But if I could only be there myself!” cried the exile, with
inspiration, “I would surely succeed.”
“You shall go there!” declared Frank. “I give you my word for it.”
But at that moment the exile gave a sharp, gasping cry and retreated to
the side of the airship.
“My God!” he gasped. “St. Nicholas defend me! There are the human hounds
that seek my life!”
He pointed to the west, where the plateau merged into the plain. The
voyagers beheld a thrilling sight.
A body of mounted men were approaching at full gallop. They rode fleet
Kighis ponies and were dressed in the uniform of the Siberian police.
For a moment the voyagers stood watching the horsemen.
Then the words of the exile aroused Frank Reade, Jr., to action.
“For the love of God, do not deliver me up to my enemies!” the Russian
cried. “I will be your slave if you will save me!”
“I don’t know whether they can make an international affair out of this
or not!” cried Frank. “I don’t want to create war between this barbarous
country and America, but by my soul I shall not allow them to take this
man away! Barney, go into the pilot-house!”
The Celt instantly obeyed.
The others armed themselves with Winchesters. Thus they stood by the
airship’s rail as the Siberian police came up.
“What ho!” cried the leader, a tall, bewhiskered fellow, reining in his
horse at sight of Nicolas, “there is your man, guards! Seize the dog and
iron him!”
The fellow spoke in the Russian language. Every word was plain to Frank
Reade, Jr.
The unfortunate exile cowered by the airship’s rail. The guards would
have seized him, but Frank said, quietly:
“Stand firm! Aim!”
Barney was in the door of the pilot house with his rifle at his
shoulder. Frank, Pomp and Professor Gaston each held a rifle aimed at
the foe.
At this the guards halted.
“Back!” thundered Frank in Russian, “or every dog of you dies!”
For a moment the Russian captain sat his horse like a statue. Then he
cried, in amazement:
“What! You dare to defy the Czar?”
“I owe no allegiance to the Czar, nor do I stand in fear of his
minions!” replied Frank, resolutely.
“Who are you?”
“We are Americans.”
“Then know you that you are upon the Czar’s territory. You shall
surrender the prisoner or we shall fight!”
“We will fight, then!” declared Frank, sternly. “So long as we have
blood in our veins we will defend this poor wretch. This may be the
Czar’s territory, but when the prisoner is on the deck of the airship he
is under the protection of the American flag, and that flag the United
States will never permit Russia nor any other foreign country to
outrage.”
The Russian officer could not reply to this sweeping declaration for
some moments. He knew enough of international law to know that Frank
Reade, Jr., was technically right.
“Nevertheless,” he said, gritting his teeth, savagely, “you are a good
ways from America, and your fate would never be known. Unless you
surrender the prisoner we will shoot every one of you.”
“Is that your craven threat?” asked Frank.
“You have heard it.”
“Then I will answer it with another. I will give you three minutes to
vacate your present position. If not, we will shoot every one of you!”
Frank’s tone was firm and his manner resolute. The Russian officer saw
this. For a moment he was at a loss what to say or do.
It was likely, however, that he would have given the order to attack and
blood would have been shed had it not been for an incident.
Suddenly a loud cry came from the direction of the plateau. Two horsemen
were seen riding at full speed.
They wore the blood-red uniform of the Czar’s service. Instantly a cry
escaped the Russian officer’s lips.
“Couriers of the Czar!” he cried. “What can they want?”
Hostilities were suspended for the time. Everybody watched the approach
of the couriers, and the exile leaned forward with open mouth and half
eager gaze.
“God be with us!” he murmured. “It may be Olga’s reprieve!”
The next moment the couriers of the Czar reined in their smoking steeds.
They saluted, and the foremost asked:
“Are you Ivan Petrowsky, of the Irkutsh Prison?”
The Russian officer of the guard saluted and made reply:
“I am he. What have you?”
“We are from Moscow. We have traveled day and night to reach you with a
message from the Czar.”
At once the prison captain drew himself up with dignity and importance.
“I will read it,” he said, pompously.
One of the couriers tendered him a document. He read it to himself and
his brow cleared. Then he said:
“Nicolas Mafetodi, I have to say that his most gracious majesty, the
Czar, has sent you full and absolute pardon. It has been discovered that
you are innocent of the charge brought against you. Count Valdstedt has
confessed.”
“Olga!” murmured the exile, with a light of delirious happiness in his
eyes. Then it faded and he reeled back.
He fell to the ground like a log. Instantly all rushed forward. Frank
Reade, Jr., bent over him, feeling his pulse, and said:
“Give him air! He has only fainted.”
But the awful strain and suffering experienced by Nicolas had told
seriously upon his strength.
However, he soon recovered with the aid of stimulants. He managed to
mount a horse.
But before doing this he half prostrated himself at Frank’s feet.
“Oh! good, kind American!” he cried. “There will always be a place in
the heart of Nicolas for you. Never shall I forget you!”
Then all mounted their horses. The couriers rode in advance. All saluted
the voyagers and then the cavalcade dashed away.
Our voyagers watched them until long out of sight.
Then Frank Reade, Jr., drew a deep breath.
“One man’s wrongs righted!” he said. “I am very glad!”
“Amen!” said Professor Gaston, and Barney and Pomp looked their
feelings.
It was but an hour before noon. The little incident had taken up several
hours of time.
But it was decided to resume the journey at once. There were many miles
to cover before reaching the pole.
The airship since its overhauling was in first-class shape. It rose into
the air as buoyant as a bird and sailed away to the northward.
All were extremely glad that there had been no collision with the prison
guard.
Lives would have been lost, perhaps some of their own number would have
been killed and the affair been most serious for all parties.
The reprieve had come just in the nick of time. The couriers were
entitled to great credit for hunting the prison captain up so promptly.
Every day now the distance across the Arctic was lessened.
Fur suits were in order—for the cold was most bitter.
“Begorra, it’s t sticker to me, shure!” cried Barney, in perplexity.
“However can it be so much colder at the North Pole than at the South
Pole?”
“It is no colder,” replied Professor Gaston.
“Phwat’s that, sor?”
“I say it’s no colder.”
“Well, I’m shure it is!”
“Nonsense!” declared Gaston. “The thermometer will not agree with your
statement. But I think myself that one feels the cold of the northern
frigid zone more than that of the south.”
“Well, sor,” cried Barney, not to be outdone in an argument, “what’s
that but being a bit colder!”
“You may be colder,” laughed the professor, “but the weather is not.”
“Shure, thin, phwy is it that I am so much colder?” protested Barney.
“A peculiar state of affairs which gives two different colds. The
atmosphere at the South Pole is a trifle more mild. It is a volcanic
region, and perhaps that may account for it. It is true that the Arctic
cold is more penetrating. Yet the thermometer averages the same.”
Barney did not attempt to argue the subject further.
He was satisfied, and now turned his attention to Pomp. For several days
he had been itching for an opportunity to get square with the darky for
the result of the last practical joke.
The Celt did some deep studying, and finally conjured up a racket which
he believed would settle accounts with the darky in good shape.
The Irishman succeeded in abstracting what was called an invisible wire
from Frank’s private locker.
This was a very thin but immensely strong steel wire, of about the size
of cotton thread. But it was capable of conducting just as powerful an
electric current as one five times the size.
It answered the Celt’s purpose to a dot. At once he proceeded to work
his plans.
Pomp was very methodical in the most of his habits.
In retiring he had a certain way of hanging up his clothes and of
tumbling into bed even. It was unvarying in all cases.
His shoes were placed side by side just under the head of his bunk and
always in the same position.
Barney had noted this many times and had frequently joked the darky
about it.
“Don’ yo’ fool yo’se’f!” Pomp retorted. “Dis chile hab been in a house
what hab cotched afiah an’ I done beliebe in havin’ ebert’ing ready to
tumble into quick in case dar is any fiah.”
Barney laughed heartily. But this very peculiarity of the darky now gave
him an excellent chance.
That night the darky retired at his usual hour. It had been his first
watch and it was past midnight when he turned in.
Barney was on duty for the rest of the night. The Celt waited until all
was quiet and he was assured that Pomp was sound asleep.
Then he crept down into the cabin.
He brought from the dynamo-room the two long coils of invisible wire.
These were fastened to screws connected with the dynamos.
Reaching down, Barney slipped a small end of the wire into each shoe of
the darky’s. This he fastened in such a way that it could not be easily
removed, and yet would not interfere with putting the shoes on.
He made a complete circuit, and then turned on the current.
Now was the time for the fun to begin.
It was a peculiarity of Pomp’s that when suddenly awakened his first
move was to don his shoes.
He would not more have thought of leaving his bunk without his shoes on
than of flying to the moon.
So Barney had the wires well laid. He made sure that everything was all
ready.
Then he leaned over and shouted in the darky’s ear:
“Foire—foire!”
The result was immediate. Pomp sprang up with a wild yell.
“Massy sakes alibe! Don’ burn dis po’ chile up! Sabe me! Fo’ de Lor’!”
“Hurry up!” shouted Barney from the engine-room. “There’s no toime to
lose! Jump into yer boots an’ come on!”
“Jes’ yo’ wait fo’ me, I’ish!” gurgled Pomp, who had not yet got the
sticks of slumber out of his head. “I’se gwine to be wif yo’ right
away!”
Then the excited darky made a grab for his shoes. Down into one of them
went his foot.
The next moment, he went sailing up in a convulsive leap, and struck the
partition overhead.
“Golly—massy—whoop la—whoo—I’se done killed! Sabe dis chile!” he yelled,
wildly. “Wha’ am de mattah?”
The shoe flew off and Pomp was instantly relieved. He was wide awake
now. He knew that he had received a tremendous shock, but he could not
tell whether it had struck him in the feet or his head.
He imagined that the fire had caused some part of the framework of his
bunk to become charged.
Could he have seen Barney at that moment in the engine-room he would
have been enlightened.
The Celt was doubled up into a round ball, laughing for all he was
worth, silently.
“Fo’ massy sakes, wha’ am mah shoe?” sputtered Pomp.
But he saw it at that moment and reached for it. Happily his hand did
not strike the invisible wire.
Again Pomp’s foot went down into the shoe with great force. Once again
he was literally lifted in the air.
This time the shoe stuck longer, and he went flopping over the floor in
literal agony. Out of compassion Barney shut off the current.
“Begorra, it’s square I am wid him now!” he muttered. “Shure, he’ll
niver thry to play a thrick on me again!”
Pomp had now recovered from his second shock. He put his hand down to
the shoe and felt the invisible wire.
In a moment he had it in his hands, and as he followed it a
comprehension of all burst upon him.
There was no fire; it was only a neat joke of Barney’s, and now he heard
the haw-haw of the Irishman in the engine-room.
“Great ’possums!” he reflected, sagely, “dat I’ishman hab done got de
bes’ ob me dis time. But I’ll bet mah life he don’ do it agen!”
Then he crept slowly and sorrowfully back into his bunk.
Barney met Pomp the next morning on the engine-room stairs, but nothing
was said. There was a twinkle in Pomp’s eyes, however, which boded no
good.
The airship now had reached the frozen seas. Vast fields of ice, densely
packed, extended as far as the eye could reach.
The cold was something frightful. To add to the discomforts a blinding
snowstorm began its sway.
For hours the Dart battled with the blinding snow. Then Frank decided to
find a good place and wait until the storm was over. Much damage was
being done to the wings and rotascope by the heavy snow.
So the young inventor selected a spot under the cover of a mighty berg
or peak of ice which rose into the air for a height of full a hundred
feet.
This kept off the brunt of the storm, and here the airship rested
safely.
The electric heating apparatus was taxed to its fullest capacity, for
the cold was something frightful.
All remained closely domiciled in the cabin. Frank had the rotascope and
wings folded up so that the wind could not damage them.
And here in the gloom of the Arctic night the voyagers waited for the
storm to cease.
Barney and Pomp were in their usual cheerful mood, and did much to keep
up the spirits of the party with fiddle and banjo.
Irish melodies and negro songs were blended, and even Frank sang a
sentimental song, for he was possessed of a beautiful tenor voice.
The storm raged for a long time. Indeed, it seemed as if the airship
must be finally buried in the fearful white drift.
But at length the temperature began to rise, and Barney suggested a
little trip outside.
“Shure, I haven’t used me snowshoes yet,” he declared. “And here is a
most illegant opportunity.”
All agreed with the lively Celt.
The snowshoes were brought out and all donned them. Then the thickest of
furs were worn.
For the cold was most bitter, and unless warmly clad human life could be
supported but a very short time.
Opening the cabin door the voyagers walked out upon the snow-clad deck.
It was a wild and wonderful scene which was presented to them.
