“We must look for a place to drop down without any further loss of time!” he called out to Tom, who was still serving as pilot.

“But it would be mighty fine,” Jack observed wistfully, “if only we might keep going on until we got a few miles out of Bridgeton.  I know every rod of territory for miles around and could point out 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?” asked Jack.

“I hate to think of crashing down into those trees,” Tom admitted.  “We’ve just got to get over being too particular.  Several places we let pass us might have answered our purpose.  Look ahead, Jack, and tell me if there doesn’t seem to be some sort of open spot lying there.”