Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice Part 16

"Oh, there's lots of gold there," declared the old miner. "The thing to do is to get it and we can sure do that now."

The remainder of the day pa.s.sed uneventfully, though Tom cast anxious looks at the weather as night set in, and Ned, noting his chum's uneasiness, asked:

"Worrying about anything, Tom?"

"Yes, I am," was the reply. "I think we're in for a hard storm, and I don't know just how the airs.h.i.+p will behave up in these northern regions. It's getting much colder, and the gas in the bag is condensing more than I thought it would. I will have to increase our speed to keep us moving along at this elevation."

The motor was adjusted to give more power, and, having set it so that it, as well as the rudders, would be controlled automatically, Tom rejoined his companions in the main cabin, where, as night settled down, they gathered to eat the evening meal.

Through the night the great airs.h.i.+p plowed her way. At times Tom arose to look at some of the recording instruments. It was growing colder, and this further reduced the volume of the gas, but as the speed of the s.h.i.+p was sufficient to send her along, sustained by the planes and wings alone, if necessary, the young inventor did not worry much.

Morning broke gray and cheerless. A few flakes of snow fell. There was every indication of a heavy storm. They were high above a desolate and wild country now, hovering over a spa.r.s.ely settled region where they could see great forests, stretches of snow-covered rocks, and towering mountain crags.

The snow, which had been lazily falling, suddenly ceased. Tom looked out in surprise. A moment later there came a sound as if some giant fingers were beating a tattoo on the roof of the main cabin.

"What's that!" cried Ned.

"Bless my umbrella! has anything happened?" demanded Mr. Damon.

"It's a hail storm!" exclaimed Tom. "We've run into a big hail storm. Look at those frozen stones! They're as big as hens' eggs!"

On a little platform in front of the steering-house could be seen falling immense hailstones. They played a tattoo on the wooden planks.

"A hail storm! Bless my overshoes!" cried Mr. Damon.

"A hail storm!" echoed Mr. Parker. "I expected we would have one.

The hailstones will become even larger than this!"

"Cheerful," remarked Tom in a low voice, with an apprehensive look at Ned.

"Is there any danger?" asked his chum.

"Danger? Plenty of it," replied the young inventor. "The frozen particles may rip open the gas bag." He stopped suddenly and looked at a gage on the wall of the steering-tower--a gage that showed the gas pressure.

"One compartment of the bag has been ripped open!" cried Tom. "The vapor is escaping! The whole bag may soon be torn apart!"

The noise of the pelting hailstones increased. The roar of the storm, the bombardment of the icy globules, and the moaning of the wind struck terror to the hearts of the gold-seekers.

"What's to be done?" yelled Ned.

"We must go up, to get above the storm, or else descend and find some shelter!" answered Tom. "I'll first see if I can send the s.h.i.+p up above the clouds!"

He increased the speed of the motor so that the propellers would aid in taking the s.h.i.+p higher up, while the gas-generating machine was set in operation to pour the lifting vapor into the big bag.

CHAPTER XIII

A FRIGHTENED INDIAN

The violence of the hail storm, the clatter of the frozen pellets as they bombarded the airs.h.i.+p, the rolling, swaying motion of the craft as Tom endeavored to send it aloft, all combined to throw the pa.s.sengers of the RED CLOUD into a state of panic.

"Bless my very existence!" cried Mr. Damon, "this is almost as bad as when we were caught in the hurricane at Earthquake Island!"

"I am sure that this storm is but the forerunner of some dire calamity!" declared Mr. Parker.

"I'm afraid it's all up with us," came from Abe Abercrombie, as he looked about for some way of escape.

"Do you think you can pull us through, Tom?" asked Ned Newton, who, not having had much experience in airs.h.i.+ps had yet to learn Tom's skill in manipulating them.

The young inventor alone seemed to keep his nerve. Coolly and calmly he stood at his post of duty, s.h.i.+fting the wing planes from moment to moment, managing the elevation rudder, and, at the same time, keeping his eye on the registering dial of the gas-generating machine.

"It's all right," said Tom, more easily than he felt. "We are going up slowly. You might see if you can induce the gas machine to do any better, Mr. Damon. We are wasting some of the vapor because of the leak in the bag, but we can manufacture it faster than it escapes, so I guess we'll be all right."

"Mr. Parker, may I ask you to oil the main motor? You will see the places marked where the oil is to go in. Ned, you help him. Here, Abe, come over here and give me a hand. This wind makes the rudders hard to twist."

The young inventor could not have chosen a better method of relieving the fears of his friends than by giving them something to do to take their minds off their own troubles. They hurried to the tasks he had a.s.signed to them, and, in a few minutes, there were no more doubts expressed.

Not that the RED CLOUD was out of danger, Far from it. The storm was increasing in violence, and the hailstones seemed to double in number. Then, too, being forced upward as she was, the airs.h.i.+p's bag was pelted all the harder, for the speed of the craft, added to the velocity of the falling chunks of hail, made them strike on the surface of the s.h.i.+p with greater violence.

Tom was anxiously watching the barograph, to note their height. The RED CLOUD was now about two and a half miles high, and slowly mounting upward. The gas machine was working to its fullest capacity, and the fact that they did not rise more quickly told Tom, more plainly than words could have done, that there were several additional leaks in the gas-bag.

"I'll take her up another thousand feet," he announced grimly.

"Then, if we're not above the storm it will be useless to go higher."

"Why?" asked Ned, who had come back to stand beside his chum.

"Because we can't possibly get above the storm without tearing the s.h.i.+p to pieces. I had rather descend."

"But won't that be just as bad?"

"Not necessarily. There are often storms in the upper regions which do not get down to the surface of the earth, snow and hail storms particularly. Hail, you know, is supposed to be formed by drops of rain being hurled up and down in a sort of circular, spiral motion through alternate strata of air--first freezing and then warm, which accounts for the onion-like layers seen when a hailstone is cut in half."

"That is right," broke in Mr. Parker, who was listening to the young inventor. "By going down this hail storm may change into a harmless rain storm. But, in spite of that fact, we are in a dangerous climate, where we must expect all sorts of queer happenings."

"Nice, comfortable sort of a companion to have along on a gold-hunting expedition, isn't He?" asked Tom of Ned, making a wry face as Mr. Parker moved away. "But I haven't any time to think of that.

Say, this is getting fierce!"

Well might he say so. The wind had further increased in violence, and while the storm of hailstones seemed to be about the same, the missiles had nearly doubled in size.

"Better go down," advised Ned. "We may fall if you don't."

"Guess I will," a.s.sented Tom. "There's no use going higher. I doubt if I could, anyhow, with all this wind pressure, and with the gas-bag leaking. Down she is!"

As he spoke he s.h.i.+fted the levers, and changed the valve wheels. In an instant the RED CLOUD began to shoot toward the earth.