He was as good as his word. It may as well be said here that Mr. Damon, with all his eccentricities, was a very honorable man. He reimbursed Captain Karofsen for his time and exertions, gave each of the sailors a handsome present, and to the captain’s brother and son he made over a trust fund that, as he had declared, would keep the two injured men from want for the remainder of their lives. For the two who had fallen down the crevasse with the treasure chest had been exposed so long to the frost that it would be months before they would be able to go to sea. All these good offices, however, Mr. Damon arranged later through a legal representative. Just now the entire party was anxious to discover if the _Winged Arrow_ would fly. Half the short Arctic night had been expended in these recent exertions. Brannigan and his men had taken the tools and the gasoline stoves back into the ship. They all climbed aboard as soon as possible and once more preparations were made for a jump-off. “If this old plane doesn’t act right now,” said Tom, “I’ll take her home and break her up for scrap. That’s a promise.” “If you get her home at all,” said Ned. “I hope she won’t get temperamental about the time we are over the Newfoundland fishing banks, for instance.” Their first destination, of course, was Iceland. The flying boat was overcrowded, and Tom wished to place Captain Karofsen and his five men somewhere near their own homes before launching out for the longer flight for America across the North Atlantic. Tom’s first anxiety, however, was to get the huge flying boat into the air and learn if she would respond properly to the controls. The motors raced all right when they were tried, and he believed that he knew now just how much compressed air to order pumped into the skin of the hull. Yet he signaled Brannigan and stood at the controls when the time came for the jump-off with a feeling of anxiety. How would the boat act? If the whole party were marooned on this iceberg as Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor and the five sailors had been, who would come to their rescue? “Not a chance!” Ned answered to these queries. “All ready, Bran?” called Tom into the tube. “Aye, aye, boss!” exclaimed the mechanician. The hull of the flying boat began to tremble. The ice field ahead of her was quite clear of rubble and there were no chasms. The propeller began to spin and the boat rolled forward. Trembling, shaking like some huge fowl trying to take the air, the _Winged Arrow_ started. She cocked her nose skyward and left the ice. Up, up she soared, on a long slant into the east. The motors throbbed rhythmically while the gale whistled through the stays. Tom felt the pull of the controls and knew that the slight rocking of the boat betrayed a good balance. On a graceful curve she left the surface of the iceberg and leaped out over the tumbling, open sea.