ting
back? That will be something of a trip. The Red Cloud is behaving much
better than I hoped she would."

"I'm willing to go further if Mr. Damon is."

"Oh, bless my shoe strings, I'm game!" exclaimed the eccentric man. "I
always did want to go to Key West, anyhow."

The craft was speeding along at a fast clip, and dinner that day was
served about three miles in the air. Then, desiring to test the gliding
abilities of the airship, it was sent down on a long slant, with the
propellers stationary, the shifting planes and rudders alone guiding it.

As the craft fairly slid down out of the sky, like a sled on a bank of
fleecy snow, Tom, who was peering ahead, with his hand on the steering
wheel, cried out "I say! It looks as if we were going to run into a
thunder storm!"

"How's that?" inquired Mr. Sharp, poking his head from the motor
compartment.

"He says there's a big storm ahead," repeated Mr. Damon, "and I guess
he's right. I see a big bank of dark clouds, and there is a roaring in
the air."

Mr. Sharp, who had been making some adjustments to the motor went
forward to take a look. The Red Cloud was swiftly gliding downward on a
slant, straight toward a dark mass of vapor, that seemed to be rolling
first one way, and then another, while as Mr. Damon had said, there was
a low rumbling proceeding from it.

"That doesn't seem to be a thunder storm," spoke the balloonist, with a
puzzled air.

They all regarded the dark mass of vapor intently for a few seconds.
Tom had brought the airship to a more level keel, and it was now
spinning along under its own momentum, like a flat piece of tin, scaled
by some lead. But it was headed for the clouds, if such they were,
though losing speed by degrees.

"I'll have to start the motor!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp. "We don't want to
run into a storm, if we can help it, though I don't ever remember
seeing a thunder disturbance like that."

"Whew! It's getting warm," suddenly announced the youth, and he let go
of the steering wheel for a moment, while he took off his coat.

"That's what it is," agreed Mr. Damon, who also divested himself of his
garments. "Bless my spark plug, but it's like a July day. No wonder
there's a thunderstorm ahead."

Then Mr. Sharp uttered a cry. "That's no storm!" he fairly shouted.
"It's a big forest fire! That's smoke we see! We must get out of this.
Turn around Tom, while I start the engine. We must rise above it!"

He fairly leaped for the mot