"In time, of
course, the dash across the Atlantic will become quite common; and those
who make it are apt to see wonderful sights."
"Two hundred miles out," Jack was saying to himself as he sat there still
holding the glasses in his hand, though not attempting to make use of
them, and his eyes ranged longingly toward the western horizon where the
blue of the sky touched the dark green of the boundless sea, all his
thoughts centered on the goal that lay far distant across that vast waste
of tumbling waters.
So as the sun started to climb in the eastern heavens the flight of the
big bombing plane carrying the trio of adventurous ones was continued,
every mile left behind bringing them that much nearer their destination,
with the future still an unsolved problem.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE COLD HAND OF FEAR
Noon came and went, with the same steady progress being maintained hour
after hour. Tom relieved Beverly at the pilot's berth, and the latter
succeeded in getting some much needed rest. Still, none of them could
sleep comfortably, which was hardly to be wondered at considering their
strange surroundings.
"My first nap when flying, for a fact!" admitted Colin, after he had
awakened, and managed to stretch his stiffened limbs.
"Tough work trying to get a few winks of sleep when one is quivering all
over with excitement," Jack remarked.
They were no longer maintaining such a high course, having descended
until the heaving sea lay not more than a thousand feet below.
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