appeared on the deck.
Robur was no longer there. At the stem the man at the wheel in his
glass cage, his eyes fixed on the compass, followed imperturbably
without hesitation the route given by the engineer.

As for the rest of the crew, breakfast probably kept them from their
posts. An assistant engineer, examining the machinery, went from one
house to the other.

If the speed of the ship was great the two colleagues could only
estimate it imperfectly, for the "Albatross" had passed through the
cloud zone which the sun showed some four thousand feet below.

"I can hardly believe it," said Phil Evans.

"Don't believe it!" said Uncle Prudent. And going to the bow they
looked out towards the western horizon.

"Another town," said Phil Evans.

"Do you recognize it?"

"Yes! It seems to me to be Montreal."

"Montreal? But we only left Quebec two hours ago!"

"That proves that we must be going at a speed of seventy-five miles
an hour."

Such was the speed of the aeronef; and if the passengers were not
inconvenienced by it, it was because they were going with the wind.
In a calm such speed would have been difficult and the rate would
have sunk to that of an express. In a head-wind the speed would have
been unbearable.

Phil Evans was not mistaken. Below the "Albatross" appeared Montreal,
easily recognizable by the Victoria Bridge, a tubular bridge thrown
over the St. Lawrence like the railway viaduct over the Venice
lagoon. Soon they could distinguish the town's wide streets, its huge
shops, its palatial banks, its cathedral, recently built on the model
of St. Peter's at Rome, and then Mount Royal, which commands the city
and forms a magnificent park.

Luckily Phil Evans had visited the chief towns of Canada, and could
recognize them without asking Robur. After Montreal they passed
Ottawa, whose falls, seen from above, looked like a vast cauldron in
ebullition, throwing off masses of steam with grand effect.

"There is the Parliament House."

And he pointed out a sort of Nuremburg toy planted on a hill top.
This toy with its polychrome architecture resembled the House of
Parliament in London much as the Montreal cathedral resembles St.
Peter's at Rome. But that was of no consequence; there could be no
doubt it was Ottawa.

Soon the city faded off towards the horizon, and formed but a
luminous spot on the ground.

It was almost two hours before Robur appeared. His mate, Tom Turner,
accompanied him. He sai