Chapter XIII. A Frightened Indian - Page 2

"Because we can't possibly get above the storm without tearing the ship to pieces. I had rather descend."

"But won't that be just as bad?"

"Not necessarily. There are often storms in the upper regions which do not get down to the surface of the earth, snow and hail storms particularly. Hail, you know, is supposed to be formed by drops of rain being hurled up and down in a sort of circular, spiral motion through alternate strata of air--first freezing and then warm, which accounts for the onion-like layers seen when a hailstone is cut in half."

"That is right," broke in Mr. Parker, who was listening to the young inventor. "By going down this hail storm may change into a harmless rain storm. But, in spite of that fact, we are in a dangerous climate, where we must expect all sorts of queer happenings."

"Nice, comfortable sort of a companion to have along on a gold- hunting expedition, isn't He?" asked Tom of Ned, making a wry face as Mr. Parker moved away. "But I haven't any time to think of that. Say, this is getting fierce!"

Well might he say so. The wind had further increased in violence, and while the storm of hailstones seemed to be about the same, the missiles had nearly doubled in size.

"Better go down," advised Ned. "We may fall if you don't."

"Guess I will," assented Tom. "There's no use going higher. I doubt if I could, anyhow, with all this wind pressure, and with the gas- bag leaking. Down she is!"

As he spoke he shifted the levers, and changed the valve wheels. In an instant the Red Cloud began to shoot toward the earth.

"What's happened? What in th' name of Bloody Gulch are we up ag'in'?" demanded the old miner, springing to his feet.

"We're going down--that's all," answered Tom, calmly, but he was far from feeling that way, and he had grave fears for the safety of himself and his companions.

Down, down, down went the Red Cloud, in the midst of the hail storm. But if the gold-seekers had hoped to escape the pelting of the frozen globules they were mistaken. The stones still seemed to increase in size and number. The gas machine register showed a sudden lack of pressure, not due to the shutting off of the apparatus.

"Look!" cried Ned, pointing to the dial.

"Yes--more punctures," said Tom, grimly.

"What's to be done?" asked Mr. Damon, who had finished the task Tom allotted to him. "Bless my handkerchief! what's to be done?"

"Seek shelter if the storm doesn't stop when we get to the earth level," answered Tom.

"Shelter? What sort of shelter? There are no airship sheds in this desolate region."

"I may be able to send the ship under some overhanging mountain