"They've given up the chase, sure!"
"And are about to drop down to make a landing for the night; is that
so?" asked Frank, eagerly, for their own chances were getting poorer
with every passing minute and secretly he was more worried than he chose
to admit.
"Just what they're doing right now, beginning to spiral down. Puss and
his old biplane weren't in it again with our dandy little Bug. There
they go, Frank. Don't I wish we had as good a place to grab hold of the
old earth!"
"Well," Frank continued, gravely, "turn around and look your prettiest
for it, then. Don't let even a half way decent spot go by. Any port in
a storm, the sailor says, and that ought to apply to the airship tar
just as well. See anything yet, Chum Andy?"
"N-no, can't say that I do," came the reply, as the other eagerly bent
his gaze on the tree tops that they were beginning to approach closer,
for Frank had turned the lever of the deflecting rudder in order to
start the monoplane earthward.
And the more they dropped the lower the sun seemed to get, until part of
his glowing disc appeared to touch the horizon.
Already it was growing dusk below them, and the dense foliage of the
interlocked branches of the trees seemed to offer an insuperable barrier
to a successful landing.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CAMP IN THE TROPICAL JUNGLE.
"Frank, this is tough luck!" Andy exclaimed, presently.
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