t a dandy level field to
make our landing in. We'd be able to descend without observation, too, I
really believe."

"That'd surely be nice, Jack," Beverly told him, "and I wish we could
accommodate you. But the fact is we're about out of gas! I noted this a
short time ago, but said nothing, because it would do no good to throw a
scare into you both. Besides, Tom had already headed direct for the land
at the time."

"How lucky that didn't happen when we were a hundred miles out at sea!"
Tom exclaimed, his first thought being one of satisfaction, rather than
useless complaint. This was characteristic of Tom, always seeing the
bright side of things, no matter how gloomy they appeared to others.

"Then I'd better be looking for a landing-place," Jack quickly remarked,
getting over his little disappointment.

"And the sooner we duck the better," Beverly admitted. "If the motors
go back on us we'll be in a bad fix; and volplaning to the ground
isn't always as easy as it's pictured, especially when you've no
choice of a landing."

"After all, it does not matter so very much," Jack concluded. "Surely
once we succeed in gaining a footing we can discover a means for getting
to our goal without much loss of time."

He bent his energies toward looking for what would seem to be a
promising open spot, where there would not be apt to be any pitfalls or
traps waiting to wreck their plane, and possibly endanger their lives.

"Scrub woods all below us, Tom!" he announced.

"But there must be openings here and there," the pilot told him. "If only
the field seems long enough to admit of our coming to a stop, we'd better
take chances."

"Nothing yet, sorry to say," called out Jack.

"Suppose you drop lower, Tom," suggested Beverly. "If we skirt the tops
of the taller trees we'll be better able to see without depending on the
glasses. All three of us can be on the lookout at the same time."

Tom considered that a good idea and he lost no time in carrying it out.
It was easier now to take particular note of the ground; but they passed
over mile after mile of the scrub without discovering what they most
earnestly sought.

"Things are getting down to a fine point, Tom," warned Beverly. "Our gas
is on its last legs, and any minute now we'll find ourselves without
motive power."

"It must change soon," the pilot told them. "This scrub forest has got to
give way to rising ground and open spaces."

"But if it doesn't, what then?"