colder, and this further reduced the volume of the gas, but as the speed of the ship was sufficient to send her along, sustained by the planes and wings alone, if necessary, the young inventor did not worry much.
Morning broke gray and cheerless. A few flakes of snow fell. There was every indication of a heavy storm. They were high above a desolate and wild country now, hovering over a sparsely settled region where they could see great forests, stretches of snow—covered rocks, and towering mountain crags.
The snow, which had been lazily falling, suddenly ceased. Tom looked out in surprise. A moment later there came a sound as if some giant fingers were beating a tattoo on the roof of the main cabin.
"What's that!" cried Ned.
"Bless my umbrella! has anything happened?" demanded Mr. Damon.
"It's a hail storm!" exclaimed Tom. "We've run into a big hail storm. Look at those frozen stones! They're as big as hens' eggs!"
On a little platform in front of the steering-house could be seen falling immense hailstones. They played a tattoo on the wooden planks.
"A hail storm! Bless my overshoes!" cried Mr. Damon.
