“He means well, uncle Phaeton,” assured Bruno, in lowered tones. “He would not knowingly hurt your feelings, sir, but--may I speak out?” “Why not?” quickly. “Surely I am not one to stand in awe of, lad?” “One to be loved and reverenced, rather,” with poorly hidden emotion; then rallying, to add, “But when one finds it impossible to realise all that has happened this afternoon, when one feels afraid to even make an effort at such belief, how can the boy be blamed for feeling that all others would pronounce us mad or--wilful liars?” Professor Phaeton saw the point, and made a wry grimace while roughing up his pompadour and brushing his closely trimmed beard with doubtful hand. After all, was the whole truth to be ever spoken? “Well, well, we can determine more clearly after fully weighing the subject,” he said, turning back towards the flying-machine. “And, after all, what has happened to us thus far may not seem so utterly incredible after our explorations are completed.” “Of this region, do you mean, sir?” “Of the Olympic mountains, and all their mountainous chain may encompass,--yes,” curtly spoke the man of hopes, stepping inside the aerostat to perfect his arrangements for the night. Waldo took greater pleasure in viewing the mountain lion towards whose destruction he had so liberally contributed, but when he spoke of removing the skin, Bruno objected. “Why take so much trouble for nothing, Waldo? Even if we could stow the pelts away on board, they would make a far from agreeable burden. And if what I fancy lies before us is to come true, the more lightly we are weighted, the more likely we are to come safely to--well, call it civilisation, just for a change.” “Then you believe that uncle Phaeton is really in earnest about exploring this region, Bruno?” “He most assuredly is. Did you ever know him to speak idly, or to be otherwise than in earnest, Waldo?” “Well, of course uncle is all right, but--sometimes--” A friendly palm slipped over those lips, cutting short the speech which might perchance have left a sting behind. And yet the worthy professor had no more enthusiastic acolyte than this same reckless speaking youngster, when the truth was all told. Leaving the animals where they had fallen, for the time being, the brothers passed over to where rested the aeromotor, finding the professor busily engaged in rigging up a series of fine wires, completely surrounding the flying-machine, save for one narrow, gate-like arrangement. “Beginning to feel as though you could turn in for all night, eh, my boys?” came his cheery greeting. “Well, somehow I do feel as though 'the sandman' had been making his rounds rather earlier than customary,” dryly said Waldo, winking rapidly. “I believe there must have been a bit more wind astir to-day than common, although neither of you may have noticed the fact.”