"
"Here's luck, boys!" cried Jack a minute afterwards.
"What have you found now?" asked Tom, without looking up.
"Why, the coffee's still hot. And let me tell you, it feels good to my
hands. There never was a finer thing for poor air pilots than these
bottles that allow them to have a warm drink when two miles up, and in
freezing temperature. This will put fresh life in our bodies."
"That isn't half bad," answered Tom; "so hand it over, and I'll take a
drink or two."
Tom swallowed his coffee and hastily ate a sandwich, but the others,
without Tom's reason for haste, ate hungrily.
Never, they confessed, had they felt such voracious appetites as on this
flight. Perhaps the invigorating sea air had something to do with it; but
Jack, at least, was not the one to bother himself about the cause, so
long as the provisions held out.
Some time passed in this way. Tom at work, Beverly holding the flashlight
in one hand and taking in the other such food as Jack handed to him.
Tom had just remarked he believed he had effected a radical cure, and
that the feed-pipe was not likely to become obstructed again; at the same
time Jack could see he was starting to put things together once more.
It began to look as though they might be ready to make a fresh start in
a very short time, not more than ten minutes, Jack figured. It thrilled
him to realize this fact. He even glanced toward the towering berg as
if to say:
"Now be good, and just hold off your gymnastics till we get started, old
chap! Afterwards you can cut up as much as you please, and little we'll
care.
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