ship was illuminated,
and those aboard her felt calmer. Still the RED CLOUD continued to
sink.

"Can't we do something?" yelled Ned. "Start the propellers, Tom!"

"No, I'll use the gas. I can't see where we're heading for, as the
searchlight is out of business. We may be in the midst of a lot of
bergs. We were flying too low. Just start the gas generating
machine."

Ned hurried to obey this order. He saw Tom's object. With the big
bag full of gas the airship would settle gently to earth as easily
as though under the command of the propellers and wing planes.

In a few minutes the hissing of the machine told that the vapor was
being forced into the bag and a little later the downward motion of
the ship was checked. She moved more and more slowly toward the
earth, until, with a little jar, she settled down, and came to rest.
But she was on such an uneven keel that the cabin was tilted at an
unpleasant angle.

"Bless my salt-cellar!" cried Mr. Damon. "We are almost standing on
our heads!"

"Better that than not standing at all," replied Tom, grimly. "Now to
see what the damage is."

He scrambled from the forward door of the cabin, no easy task
considering how it was tilted, and the others followed him. It was
too dark to note just how much damage had been inflicted, but Tom
was relieved to see, as nearly as he could judge, that it was
confined to the forward part of the front platform or deck of the
ship. The wooden planking was split, but the extent of the break
could not be ascertained until daylight. The searchlight connections
had been broken by the collision, and it could not be used.

"Now to take a look at the machinery," suggested the young inventor,
when he had walked around his craft. "That is what I am worried
about more than about the outside."

But, to their joy, they found only a small break in the motor. That
was what caused it to stop, and also put the dynamo out of
commission.

"We can easily fix that," Tom declared.

"Bless my coffee-spoon!" cried Mr. Damon, who seemed to be running
to table accessories in his blessings. Perhaps it was because it was
so near supper time. "Bless my coffee-spoon! But how did it happen?"

"We were running too low," declared Tom. "I had forgotten that we
were likely to get among tall mountain peaks at any moment, and I
set the elevation rudder too low. It was my fault. I should have
been on the lookout. We must have struck the mountain of ice a
glancing blow