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a time the Falcon shot onward through the storm and darkness, for Tom did not want to give up. With but a single shaded light in the pilot house, so that he could see to read the gauges and dials, telling of the condition of the machinery in the motor room, he pushed his stanch craft ahead. At times she would be forced downward toward the angry waters of Lake Ontario, over which she was sailing, but the speed of her propellers and the buoyancy of the gas bag, would soon lift her again.

"How much longer are you going to stay?" called Ned in his chum's ear called loudly, not to be heard above the noise of the airship, but above the racket of the gale.

"Oh, I guess we may as well start back," spoke Tom, after a look at the clock on the wall. "We can just about make our camp by daylight, and they won't see us."

"It won't be light very early," observed Mr.