ng," commented Mr. Damon.

It was three days before the storm blew itself out and then came
pleasant weather, during which the Falcon flew rapidly along. Our
friends busied themselves about many things, talked of what lay before
them, and made such plans as they could.

It was the evening of the fifth day, and they expected to sight the
coast of France in the morning. Tom was in the pilot house, setting the
course for the night run, and Ned had gone to the engine room to look
after the oiling of the motor.

Hardly had he reached the compartment than there was a loud report, a
brilliant flash of fire, and the machinery stopped dead.

"What is it?" cried Tom, as he came in on the run, for the indicators
in the pilot house had told him something was wrong.

"An accident!" cried Ned. "A breakdown, Tom! What shall we do?"

CHAPTER XIII

SEEKING A QUARREL

There was an ominous silence in the engine room, following the flash
and the report. The young inventor took in every bit of machinery in a
quick glance, and he saw at once that the main dynamo and magneto had
short-circuited, and gone out of commission. Almost instantly the
airship began to sink, for the propellers had ceased revolving.

"Bless my barograph!" cried Mr. Damon, appearing on the scene. "We're
sinking, Tom!"

"It's all right," answered our hero calmly. "It's a bad accident, and
may delay us, but there's no danger. Ned, start up the gas machine,"
for they were progressing as an aeroplane then. "Start that up, and
we'll drift along as a dirigible."

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that!" exclaimed Ned, somewhat
provoked at his own want of thought. The airship was going down
rapidly, but it was the work of but a moment to start the generator,
and then the earthward motion was checked.

"We'll have to take our chance of being blown to France," remarked Tom,
as he went over to look at the broken electrical machinery. "But we
ought to fetch the coast by morning with this wind. Lucky it's blowing
our way."

"Then you can't use the propellers?" asked Mr. Petrofsky.

"No," replied Tom, "but if we get to France I can easily repair this
break. It's the platinum bearings again. I do hope we'll locate that
lost mine, for I need a supply of good reliable metal.

"Then we'll have to land in France?" asked the Russian, and he seemed a
trifle uneasy.

"Yes," answered Tom. "Don't you want to?"

"Well, I was thinking of our safety."

"Bless my s