Dull despair gripped even the ordinarily cheerful Ned’s heart as he
stared at the broken lever, flush with the metal work around the socket
where it had defied all efforts to pry it up and loose. If only there
were a half inch or so of the lever still projecting above the metal
frame so that one might get a purchase on it with pincers, or--
“Silly that I am!” shouted Ned. “Here we have all been wasting our time
and effort trying to pry the lever up, when we can just as easily rip
off the metal top casing around the socket. That will certainly leave
at least three-quarters of an inch of the lever sticking up where we
can get at it. Boys! Oh, boys! Come here, quick, and bring some screw
drivers, a cold chisel, a hammer, and a pair of good strong plyers with
you!”
The other lads came running with the desired tools and Ned explained
his idea in a few words. All looked at each other sheepishly, but with
vast relief they began at once to carry out Ned’s instructions.
“What ninnies we were not to think of so simple a thing long before
this!” exclaimed Alan.
“I guess it was because the idea was too simple,” Buck said wisely.
Ned cut short further discussion.
“To work! To work, you fellows!” he cried. “Remember that every instant
wasted in chatter carries us so much the nearer to earth where there’s
no telling what may await us.”
So thereupon all of the boys set to work with a will. In their
excitement they forgot the freezing cold and their own discomfort.
While Ned kept the _Flyer_ in its course, Bob and Alan and Buck were
working loose the screws which held the heavy metal top plates in place
and hammering and prying with the razor-edged chisels. It was far from
being easy work, but they made good headway for all that.
Presently Alan gave a triumphant shout and tossed the first dislodged
screw to the floor. Others soon followed it. By that time Buck had cut
free the entire upper plate of metal from the wooden box base on his
side, and Bob had pried it almost as loose on the other side. Soon the
whole thick sheet of metal came loose and could be lifted free of its
pedestal.
As Ned had surmised, its removal left fully three-quarters of an inch
of the broken end of the lever protruding where it was easily possible
to get a grip on it with the heavy plyers.
Getting a firm grip on the shaft and pulling it out were two entirely
different matters, however, as the boys soon found out. For a long time
the jammed lever resisted their every effort to loosen it and faces
again began to look grave. It was not until they were almost ready to
give it up as a hopeless job, that, all of a sudden, Buck, who was
tugging with might and main, felt the lever give slightly. A second
later the whole length slid smoothly up into view.
“Hurrah!” shouted Alan, throwing his cap wildly into the air. “Saved!
saved! Now we can get her under control again and laugh at whoever may
be waiting down there on Mother Earth!”
The boys certainly were justified in performing a war-dance of
jubilation around the walls of the little pilot house.
It only remained for them to repair the broken handle, and then the
_Ocean Flyer_ was once more responsive to the slightest touch of
the hand upon her delicate steering mechanism. Fully two hours had
elapsed; Alan’s watch showed nearly eight o’clock.
As the airship continued to drop, the ice melted on the port windows
and a grateful warmth began to make the blood circulate freely again.
The heavy overcoats were discarded and everybody began talking
excitedly about what they were going to do when they reached the earth
once more. All agreed that, even if it were only for a few minutes,
they wanted to land and feel good solid ground beneath their feet.
“But where do you suppose we’ll strike terra firma?” asked Bob. “It’s
pretty certain that we won’t find ourselves over Belgium as when we
left.”
“What difference does it make anyhow?” exulted Alan. “We’ll be on earth
again, and that’s enough of a guarantee for me just now. I don’t care
whether we land in Germany or Japan.”
“Hold on there! It does make a difference to me though,” cried Buck.
“Remember that the New York _Herald_ really sent yours truly along on
this expedition as a war correspondent, and I haven’t yet had a chance
to write a word of ‘copy’ or even to see a battle in progress. I
didn’t bring along all of those notebooks for nothing, Alan!”
Everybody had to laugh heartily at that. Bob agreed with Buck.
“I’m a newspaper man too, you know,” he said, “and I also would like to
see the actual fighting at close range.”
“Thanks, old man,” rejoined Alan dryly, “but I’ve seen quite enough
fighting lately to last me the rest of my natural life. However, your
words remind me that we haven’t yet heard the story of your experiences
in the war zone, or how it was that the Germans came to arrest you as a
spy. Now that none of us have anything much to do for a while, give us
the yarn, won’t you, Bob?”
Bob nodded, but before he could begin, Buck cried:
“Wait a minute. Let’s all go up to the pilot house where Ned can hear
the story too.”
“That’s only right,” agreed Alan, so the three of them rejoined Ned,
where he sat at the wheel, and Bob Russell related his adventures as
follows.