As he spoke a sharp puff of wind shook the Flying Road Racer. “Could we land if anything very bad comes on?” asked Captain Andrews, with a yet stronger tincture of anxiety in his tones. Jack peered over the edge of the car. “Nothing but dense forests are below us,” he said; “it would be courting death to try to land among them.” CHAPTER XXI—ALOFT IN THE STORM In an almost unbelievably short time the wind had increased to a gale. It shrieked and moaned among the wire supports of the car, and the great bag that held it in mid-air swayed and tore furiously at its fastenings. Jack kept a sharp lookout for a good spot to land, while Tom relieved Ned at the wheel. Once they saw beneath them a big area of smooth, park-like land, almost devoid of trees. It would have made an ideal landing place, but as they tried to force the Flying Road Racer around to head for it the full force of the wind struck them. While traveling with the gale they had not noticed its full fury. Now, however, it battered them viciously, tearing at the gas bag as if it had been some monster bent on its destruction. The car swung wildly underneath its support, and they had to cling on to avoid being hurled out into space. Their intention of battling with the wind was quickly given up. Tom brought the helm around and the Flying Road Racer hurtled off before the blast at a speed the indicator showed to be sixty-five miles. “Is there no possibility of turning around and landing?” asked Mr. Jesson somewhat anxiously. “It is out of the question,” declared Jack; “we’d rip this craft to pieces if we even attempted to buffet the storm.” “It’s a bad one, all right,” said Abner Jennings. “And may be worse afore it’s better,” said Captain Andrews, casting an anxious eye aloft at the scudding clouds among which they were sailing. “The wind is blowing about sixty miles an hour,” said Jack, looking at the anemometer. “That means practically a hurricane speed.” “Are we in danger?” asked Mr. Jesson. “Not as long as we can keep in the air,” said Jack; “but if anything should go wrong it would be awkward, to say the least of it.” “Then something may happen at any minute?” “I didn’t say so. Uncle; but, as Captain Andrews said, the wind may grow stronger.” “It’s hard to tell what these tropical hurricanes will do, once they get started,” said the burly captain. “I’ve seen ’em blow for a week and flatten out whole groves of cocoanuts.” It grew blacker and blacker. The Flying Road Racer was now scudding through ragged white clouds that drove as fast as she did under a panoply of inky black. The scream of the rigging as the wind rushed against the taut, straining wires, sounded almost like the cries of some live thing in pain.