<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII<br/> <span class="cheaderfont">SURROUNDED BY GERMAN ZEPPELINS</span></h2>
<p>The war had by this time begun to pall upon
the boys, and Alan voiced the sentiments of all
four when he said:</p>
<p>“I’m sick of all this treachery, thunder of
cannon, wails from the wretched common people
and indiscriminate bloodshed. The United
States is good enough for yours truly, and I wish
that I was there right now.”</p>
<p>So it was decided that the <em>Ocean Flyer</em> be
headed homeward without further delay and,
after bidding good-bye to the genial von
Schleinitz and Racoszky and his courageous little
wife, the boys early one morning started their
engines and let the hectic life of Vienna sink into
a miniature panorama far beneath them.</p>
<p>The course was set northwesterly and a
spanking breeze in a murky sky accelerated their
speed.</p>
<p>“Off for America again at last!” shouted
Bob jubilantly, and the other boys echoed him in
three rousing cheers.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[226]</span></p>
<p>By ten o’clock, however, there was a marked
change in the atmosphere. The barometer fell
low in the glass, and every delicate instrument
in the pilot room gave ominous indications of
nasty weather.</p>
<p>Ned’s face showed his worry, but he forced
a cheerful smile before his chums.</p>
<p>“It will blow over, I am sure,” he said.</p>
<p>The <em>Flyer</em> was being held to an elevation of
perhaps 2,500 feet. The lower cloud banks cut
off all view of the world beneath, and Alan
suggested that they descend to a lower level
where, although they might feel the effects of
the rainstorm from the clouds, the rapidly
increasing velocity of the wind would not hold
them so surely in its grip.</p>
<p>Ned listened to the demoniacal shrieks of the
wind as the <em>Flyer</em> scudded along, and was not
slow to acknowledge the common sense of Alan’s
advice. So the airship was dropped down to a
considerably lower level below the clouds.</p>
<p>In that region a terrible storm was raging.
The thunder burst in crashes that seemed louder
than ten thousand cannon. The air vibrated
with the shocks. Appalling zigzags of lightning
shot yellow across the sky. The rain fell in
torrents from an inky sky and dashed dismally<span class="pagenum">[227]</span>
against the metal sides of the speeding airship.</p>
<p>Being mistrustful of air eddies or whirlpool
currents as a result of the hurricane, Ned
reduced the <em>Flyer’s</em> speed to the minimum. As
he wisely observed, “No use taking unnecessary
chances.”</p>
<p>Thus the big vessel fled before the storm for
half an hour or more when, with astonishing
suddenness, the reverberations of thunder ceased
and the sun turned the rainfall into a fog so
dense that it seemed that the <em>Flyer</em> was cutting
its way through a solid substance. It became so
dark inside that the boys had to turn on the
electric lights.</p>
<p>“I don’t like this at all,” muttered Ned at
last, as he strained his eyes through the mist-clouded
observation-port.</p>
<p>“Well, anyway, we aren’t flying low enough
to hit any trees or church steeples,” grinned
Bob.</p>
<p>“No, but all the same I don’t like to keep
going even this slowly through vapor as thick as
this is. If I could only see the character of the
ground below, I’d try to make a landing.”</p>
<p>The earth, however, continued wholly shrouded
and Ned had to hold on his unwilling way.</p>
<p>It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later that<span class="pagenum">[228]</span>
Buck, who had been calculating at the speedometer,
and referring to various charts,
announced that the <em>Ocean Flyer</em> was probably
over northern Germany. Shortly afterward the
increasing strength of the sun’s rays began to
dissipate the fog, which assumed fantastic forms
that writhed and squirmed as they floated away
into nothingness. It amused the boys to pick
out these patches of mist and to note their outline
resemblance to one animal or another.</p>
<p>“There’s a cow!” laughed Bob, pointing.</p>
<p>“And over there is a giraffe—see his long
neck?”</p>
<p>“Look straight ahead, boys, and see the
bologna sausage,” called Ned from his station
at the wheel.</p>
<p>Sure enough—there it was, gigantic and dull
gray, directly ahead of them. But strange to
say, while it kept moving along in the same
direction as the <em>Flyer</em>, it did not soon dissolve
into thin air. Instead of that it took vast tangible
form. Other vapor forms began to appear
transparent beside it. The vague outlines of
complicated rigging extending down from the
sausage became easily apparent. Then a suspended
metal body, punctured with many
windows, appeared.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[229]</span></p>
<p>By this time the speeding <em>Ocean Flyer</em> was
almost upon it, and only Ned’s presence of
mind in veering the huge right side planes
abruptly averted a sure collision. The <em>Flyer</em>
swept down past the other huge voyager of the
sky at an acute angle and did not right itself
until a considerable distance below.</p>
<p>“Holy smoke!” gasped Bob. “What is that
curious looking thing?”</p>
<p>Ned was deadly pale, but his lips were pressed
grimly together.</p>
<p>“That, boys,” said he, “is one of the famous
German armored Zeppelins. Look up there to
the left—three more of them sailing close
together. See over there to the right—two
more of them. I can see more flitting along
down below us, and I think that there are more
ahead. We have descended into the very midst
of them. Look out for trouble now, because I’ll
bet dollars to doughnuts that this is the long-dreaded
aerial raid upon England!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[230]</span></p>
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