constantly getting lighter, though there was no sun, for it was obscured by scudding clouds. The young inventor looked critically at the various gages and indicators.
"Is—is there any chance for us?" asked Mr. Fenwick, quietly.
"I think so," answered Tom, with a hopeful smile. "We have about two thousand feet to descend, for we have fallen nearly that distance since the accident."
"Two thousand feet to fall!" gasped Mr. Damon. "We can never do it and live!"
"I think so," spoke Tom.
"Bless my gizzard! How?" fairly exploded Mr. Damon.
"By vol-planing down!"
"But, even if we do, we will fall into the ocean!" cried Mr. Fenwick. "We will be drowned!"
"No," and Tom spoke more quietly than before. "We are over a large island," he went on, "and I propose to let the disabled airship vol-plane down to it. That is our only chance."
"Over an island!" cried Mr. Damon. He looked down through the floor observation window. Tom had spoken truly. At that moment they were over a large island, which had suddenly loomed up in the wild and desolate waste of the
