"Also you are as dumb as a barrel," the Captain resumed, "so you won't
put Miss Lane up to any foolishness. She will do the thinking for both
of you."
"Ole can take the pictures and theorize," Edith promised consolingly.
"And mend the motor when you bust it," Ole added with a touch of
vindictiveness. It is one thing to call a man a masterbuilder of
theories and quite another to say he theorizes. Ole sensed the
distinction.
The Doctor was finally routed. And so it happened that Edith and Ole
took not one reconnoitering flight, while the men and gods toiled
fifteen hours a day at the caches, but several.
That afternoon they proceeded upstream to within fifty miles of their
projected goal. For twelve days of perfect calm they anchored in the
narrow channel, ready at a second's notice to race from the deluge of
hot mud which they half expected but which never came. The stout ship
was to leave her timbers in that desolate spot to the end of time, but
it was not mud or lava which held her fast.
The powerful airplane had been unshipped without difficulty. A level
stretch of hard packed snow made an ideal landing ground. When tanked
to capacity the plane carried enough petrol for a thousand mile flight.
Taking no chances, the explorers carried the full complement on each
trip.
"Au revoir," Edith said as she climbed in for her first flight. "We'll
be back before midnight. I promise."
"How far are you going?" Drake asked.
"To Hades."
Edith's answer had been given merely to shock Ole. Yet it contained
an unsuspected element of truth. That was precisely where she landed
before the end of her explorations.
11