Chapter XVIII. A Fight with Musk Oxen

"Can I help you, Tom? What's to be done?" demanded Ned Newton, as he rushed to where his chum was yanking on various levers and gear wheels.

"Wait a minute!" gasped the young inventor. "I want to throw on the storage battery, and that will give us some light. Then we can see what We are doing." An instant later the whole ship was illuminated, and those aboard her felt calmer. Still the Red Cloud continued to sink.

"Can't we do something?" yelled Ned. "Start the propellers, Tom!"

"No, I'll use the gas. I can't see where we're heading for, as the searchlight is out of business. We may be in the midst of a lot of bergs. We were flying too low. Just start the gas generating machine."

Ned hurried to obey this order. He saw Tom's object. With the big bag full of gas the airship would settle gently to earth as easily as though under the command of the propellers and wing planes.

In a few minutes the hissing of the machine told that the vapor was being forced into the bag and a little later the downward motion of the ship was checked. She moved more and more slowly toward the earth, until, with a little jar, she settled down, and came to rest. But she was on such an uneven keel that the cabin was tilted at an unpleasant angle.

"Bless my salt-cellar!" cried Mr. Damon. "We are almost standing on our heads!"

"Better that than not standing at all," replied Tom, grimly. "Now to see what the damage is."

He scrambled from the forward door of the cabin, no easy task considering how it was tilted, and the others followed him. It was too dark to note just how much damage had been inflicted, but Tom was relieved to see, as nearly as he could judge, that it was confined to the forward part of the front platform or deck of the ship. The wooden planking was split, but the extent of the break could not be ascertained until daylight. The searchlight connections had been broken by the collision, and it could not be used.

"Now to take a look at the machinery," suggested the young inventor, when he had walked around his craft. "That is what I am worried about more than about the outside."

But, to their joy, they found only a small break in the motor. That was what caused it to stop, and also put the dynamo out of commission.

"We can easily fix that," Tom declared.

"Bless my coffee-spoon!" cried Mr. Damon, who seemed to be running to table accessories in his blessings. Perhaps it was because it was so near supper time. "Bless my coffee-spoon! But how did it happen?"

"We were running too low," declared Tom. "I had forgotten that we were likely to get among tall mountain peaks at any moment, and I set the elevation rudder too low. It was my fault. I should have been on the