“Oh, that’s different,” remarked the odd man, with an air of relief.

Tom and Ned soon had the camera set near the spring and then, everyone being tired with the day’s work and excitement, they retired.  In the morning there were signs around the spring that many animals had been there in the night.  There were also marks as if there had been a fight, but of course what sort, or how desperate, no one could say.

“If anything happened the camera got it, I’m sure of that much,” remarked Tom, as he brought in the apparatus.  “I’m not going to develop the roll, for I don’t want to take the time now.  I guess we must have something, anyhow.”

“If there isn’t it won’t so much matter for you have plenty of other good views,” said Mr. Nestor.

I will not go into details of the long trip to Switzerland, where, amid the mountains of that country, Tom hoped to get the view he wanted.

Sufficient to say that the airship made good time after leaving India.  Sometimes Tom sent the craft low down, in order to get views, and again, it would be above the clouds.

“Well, another day will bring us there,” said Tom one evening, as he was loading the camera with a fresh roll of films.  “Then we’ll have to be on the lookout for an avalanche.”

“Yes, we’re making pretty good time,” remarked Ned, as he looked at the speed gage.  “I didn’t know you had the motor working so fast, Tom.”

“I haven’t,” was the young inventor’s answer, as he looked up in surprise.  “Why, we are going quite fast!  It’s the wind, Ned.  It’s right with us, and it’s carrying us along.”

Tom arose and went to the anemometer, or wind-registering instrument.  He gave a low whistle, half of alarm.

“Fifty miles an hour she’s blowing now,” he said.  “It came on suddenly, too, for a little while ago it was only ten.”

“Is there any danger?” asked Mr. Nestor, for he was not very familiar with airship perils.

“Well, we’ve been in big blows before, and we generally came out all right,” returned Tom.  “Still, I don’t like this.  Why she went up five points since I’ve been looking at it!” and he pointed to the needle of the gage, which now registered fifty-five miles an hour.

“Bless my appendix!” gasped Mr. Damon.  “It’s a hurricane Tom!”

“Something like that,” put in Ned, in a low voice.

With a suddenness that was startling, the wind increased in violence still more.  Tom ran to the pilot house.

“What are you going to do?” Ned called.

“See if we can’t go down a bit,” was Tom’s answer.  “I don’t like this.  It may be calmer below.  We’re up too high as it is.”

He tried to throw over the lever controlling the deflecting rudder, which would send the Flyer down, but he could not move it.

“Give me a hand!” he called to Ned, but even the strength of the two lads was not sufficient to shift it.