"Company!" gasped Mark. "What does he think he hears up here--angels' wings? We're about as near being in the company of the celestial hosts as we'll ever be and remain alive, I reckon." "No, sah!" retorted Washington. "Dat Shanghai done know dat we is near some oder fow-el----" "Up here in the air, Wash?" cried Jack. "Dunno whar dey is," said the darkey, doggedly. "Dar he crows ergin! Dar is suttenly critters ob his kind nearby--yes--sah!" It may have been the Shanghai's raucous tone that aroused Andy. The old hunter suddenly appeared on the platform behind the operator's seat, where the boys and Wash were clinging, and Andy brought his rifle with him. "Hullo!" he said. "Is the watch called?" "I'm sorry if we awoke you, Andy," Jack said. "There is nothing for you to do." "Nothing to shoot at; eh?" said the old hunter. "I reckon I ain't of much use in a flying machine, anyway. Sort of 'up in the air'; ain't I?" "That's where we all are," complained Mark. "And I, for one, wish we were down again." "Guess we're all with you in that wish, old man," agreed Jack. As he spoke, the wind-blown figure of the professor hove into view from the small, sheltered cabin. He glanced at the various indicators and the compass in front of Jack. "We are all in safety yet; are we, boys?" he queried. "If you can call being driven helplessly before such a gale and about a mile above the earth _safe_," retorted Mark. "Surely not as high as that," exclaimed Professor Henderson. He examined the instruments again, and said, quickly: "We are descending! How is that, Jack?" "Not with my knowledge, sir," returned the boy aviator. "I think we have remained on the thousand-foot level since crossing the Rocky Mountains." "I believe you have been faithful, my boy," returned the professor, quickly. "But the earth is certainly less than three hundred feet below us--ah! see that? The indicator registers 250 feet. Now 240!" "We are falling!" cried Mark. "No!" said the professor. "The earth is rising. We are being blown against the mountainside. We must be within a few hundred miles, at least, of our destination. Those are the Endicott Mountains yonder," and he waved a hand at the darkness to the south of them. "Hark!" cried Andy Sudds, suddenly. There was a momentary lull in the wind. From below came the broken crowing of a cock in answer to the Shanghai's challenge. Then a dog barked. "There's a farmhouse down there," said the hunter. "What did I tell yo'?" cried Washington White. "Dat Buttsy knows his business, all right!" "We must descend," commanded the professor. "Deflect the planes, Jack. Watch the indicator. Reduce the speed. Let us float down as easily as possible." But, wrestling as the flying machine was with the wind, she could not descend easily. She scaled earthward with fearful velocity. The irrepressible Jack yelled: "Go-ing down! We're going to bump hard in a minute!"