“No, they’ve got funny little fuzzy things on their legs. They’re not mosquitoes.”
“Fuzzy things on their legs!” exclaimed the professor. “That is a very rare form of a katydid, which lives only in the upper air. I must catch some.”
He hurried to where Bob was, carrying his long-handled net, and he soon caught more of the odd insects than he cared for. Some he preserved in small boxes, and the others he released.
It grew darker and darker as the clouds gathered, until it was difficult to see more than a few hundred feet away from the motor ship. Still Mr. Glassford pressed on, keeping his course due south.
“I can’t see any of the other airships,” remarked Ned, trying to peer through the gloom.
“Try the telescope,” suggested the inventor, and the lad took a large one from the rack in the cabin. But even with the aid of the powerful glass there was nothing to be seen.
“Better close the cabin windows, light the lamps, and get ready for a bad night,” said Mr. Glassford presently.
The boys did so, and soon, with lamps glowing in the cozy little cabin, even though they knew a bad storm was gathering, every one felt safer.
“I guess it must be supper-time,” remarked Bob.
“Chunky tells by his stomach, not by the clock,” commented Jerry. “All right, Bob, set out the repast, if you like.”
The lad lost no time in complying, having constituted himself cook of the motor ship, and a simple but good meal was soon prepared on the gasolene stove.
“Ned, suppose you take charge in the pilot house while I eat,” called Mr. Glassford down the little flight of stairs which led from the main cabin to the steering tower. “All you have to do is keep everything where I leave it, and maintain a course as near south as you can. We’re making to the west some, as the wind is a little too strong for us, but by changing the angle of the planes we may overcome it a bit.”
Ned, with some anxiety, went to the pilot house, but he had little to do, as most of the machinery was automatic, and he only had to watch the gages and occasionally move a lever or a wheel.
“We’re still making a little too much west,” said Mr. Glassford anxiously when he again took charge. “I think I’ll change our elevation a trifle.”
“Down, I think. I don’t care to be too high up when the storm breaks, as it looks as if it would very soon now.”