Onward sped the aeroplane, onward through the night, and then Tom,
having set the automatic steering gear, all fell into heavy slumbers
that lasted until far into the next day.
When the young inventor awoke he looked below and could see
nothing--nothing but a sea of mist.
"What's this?" he cried. "Are we above the clouds, or in a fog over some
inland sea?"
He was quite worried, until Ivan Petrofsky informed him that they were
in the midst of a dense fog, which was common over that part of Siberia,
"But where are we?" asked Ned.
"About over the province of Irtutsk," was the answer. "We are heading
north," he went on, as he looked at the compass, "and I think about
right to land somewhere near where my brother is confined in the sulphur
mine."
"That's so; we've got to drop," said Tom. "I must get the gas pipe
repaired. I wish we could see over what soft of a place we were so as to
know whether it would be safe to land. I wish the mist would clear
away."
It did, about noon, and they noted that they were over a desolate
stretch of country, in which it would be safe to make a landing.
Bringing the aeroplane down on as smooth a spot as he could pick out,
Tom and Ned were soon at work clearing out the clogged pipe of the gas
generator. They had to take it out in the open air, as the fumes were
unpleasant, and it was while working over it that they saw a shadow
thrown on the ground in front of them.
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