"It would be too bad to be wrecked before we got to Phantom Mountain."
"Well, I predict that we will have a bad storm," insisted Mr. Parker, and Tom could not help wishing that the scientist would keep his gloomy forebodings to himself.
However the storm had not developed up to noon, when Tom, with Mr. Damon's help, served a fine meal in the dining-room. In the afternoon the speed of the ship was increased, and by night they had covered several hundred miles. Through the darkness the Red Cloud kept on, making good time. Tom got up, occasionally, to look to the machinery, but it was all automatically controlled, and an alarm bell would sound in his stateroom when anything went wrong.
"Bless my napkin!" exclaimed Mr. Damon the next morning, as they sat down to a breakfast of fruit, ham and eggs and fragrant coffee, "this is living as well as in a hotel, and yet we are—how far are we above the earth, Tom?" he asked, turning to the young inventor.
"About two miles now. I just sent her up, as I thought I detected that storm Mr. Parker spoke of."
"I told you it would come," declared the scientist, and there was a small hurricane below
