“If you get there before we do,” sang Gale. “Chauncey Gale,” I said, “if every exploring party had a man like you along there would be no such thing as failure.” “I think we’d better talk a little to Johnnie if the telephone’s working,” he said. “She may think we’ve gone to sleep.” We found the apparatus buried in the snow, but apparently uninjured. The little bell on it rang as soon as the snow was poked away. “Hello,” called Gale, “that you, Johnnie? Matter? With us? Why, nothing. We’ve been busy, that’s all.—No, not quite so loud as it was.—Yes. Bell didn’t ring, maybe.—Noise you heard? Oh, slacking down the propeller I guess. Or maybe Nick singing. We’ve camped for the night.—No. Nick thought it best now we’ve got where it’s warm. Didn’t know what we might get into, you know.—Yes, bully!—Yes, had to let out some gas. We’ll have to throw out ballast of course in the morning.—Good place? Oh, yes,—nice and clean.—No, not _too_ warm.—No, no trees yet.—Oh, why—we—we hitched it to—that is—we tied it to—to”—Gale slipped his hand over the transmitter and turned to me helplessly. “Nick, what under heavens did we hitch the balloon to, for the night? Tell me quick!” “A—a peculiar petrified formation,” I said hastily. “Might have been a tree, at one time, you know.” “Nick says it’s a petrified tree.—Yes, only a few of ’em left.—No. Tell Biff to hold the fort.—Yes, we must camp, now. Good-by!” He turned to me again. “Nick,” he said, “that was a good petrified lie of yours, and it worked in bully. No use to worry the little girl,” he added, “she’ll think about us enough, anyway.” We prepared for the night. There was still a feeble sun in the west, and we made haste to get into comfortable quarters before it left us. I had learned something of navigation on the vessel, and securing an angle I calculated that we had made somewhat more than one hundred and sixty miles during the five hours of aerial travel. We were convinced now that the snow surface sloped to the southward. Our horizon showed this when we ascended to the top of the highest drifts, and the temperature also indicated our approach to a warmer zone. That the frozen crust was getting thinner we had no doubt, but the end of it seemed yet far distant, and the temperature about us was by no means of a sort to suggest a summer wardrobe.