occupants were tossed about in the cabin, from side to side. Indeed, it did seem that human beings never could come alive out of that fearful ordeal.
As Tom looked from one of the windows of the cabin, he noted a pale, grayish sort of light outside. At first he could not understand what it was, then, as he observed the sickly gleams of the incandescent electric lamps, he knew that the hour of dawn was at hand.
"See!" he exclaimed to his companions, pointing to the window. "Morning is coming."
"Morning!" gasped Mr. Damon. "Is the night over? Now, perhaps we shall get rid of the storm."
"I'm afraid not," answered Tom, as he noted the anemometer and felt the shudderings of the Whizzer as she careened on through the gale. "It hasn't blown out yet!"
The pale light increased. The electrics seemed to dim and fade. Tom looked to the engines. Some of the apparatus was in need of oil, and he supplied it. When he came back to the main cabin, where stood Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick, it was much lighter outside.
"Less than a day since we left Philadelphia," murmured the owner of the Whizzer, as he glanced at a distance indicator, "yet we have come
