wedded to its waters. In imagination the boy could even
then see the barques of the early explorers, those bold men who had
pushed thither from across the ocean, and risked their lives in order to
learn what the New Country held for brave hearts.

Perhaps, had he still gripped the glass in his hands, and cared to look
earthward before leaving the shore for that adventurous cruise, Andy
might have seen many a group of wondering people all watching the flight
of those hurrying ships of the upper air currents, and even waving hats
and handkerchiefs in the endeavor to attract the attention of the bold
navigators, whom they supposed to be engaged in a race for a wager.

But there was now no longer time for anything like this, and all their
attention must be concentrated upon the one thing that meant so much to
them--the safety of the delicate craft in which they were now about to
entrust their very lives for a voyage, the like of which few airmen had
ever entered before.

Already had the other aeroplane sailed away, and was even now hanging
over the inland sea, that lay fully four thousand feet below, its
further shore hidden in what seemed to be a cloud, though it might prove
to be a rising fog, fated to engulf both pursuing and pursued air craft
in its baffling folds, and turn the comedy of the race into a tragedy.

"Goodbye old land!" sang out Andy, when they seemed to suddenly pass out
over the water, leaving the shore of New York behind.

Frank said not a word, but no doubt his feelings were just as strong as
those of his companion. And so they had now embarked on what seemed to
be the last leg of the strange chase, with the future lying before them
as mystifying as that fog bank lying far away to the north.

CHAPTER XXI

OVER THE BOUNDARY LINE

It was with the queerest possible feeling that Andy saw the land
slipping away, and realized that they were at last launched upon the
water part of the voyage.

It seemed as though they had cast loose from their safe moorings, and
were adrift upon an uncharted sea. When comparing his feelings with
other aviators in later times, he learned that every one of them had
experienced exactly similar sensations the first time they passed out of
touch of land, and found the heaving sea alone beneath them. It was a
sort of air intoxication; Andy even called it sea-sickness, though
doubtless most of it came from imagination alone.

"There they go, Frank!" he called out,