The storm was
increasing in violence, and the hailstones seemed to double in
number. Then, too, being forced upward as she was, the airship's bag
was pelted all the harder, for the speed of the craft, added to the
velocity of the falling chunks of hail, made them strike on the
surface of the ship with greater violence.
Tom was anxiously watching the barograph, to note their height. The
RED CLOUD was now about two and a half miles high, and slowly
mounting upward. The gas machine was working to its fullest
capacity, and the fact that they did not rise more quickly told Tom,
more plainly than words could have done, that there were several
additional leaks in the gas-bag.
"I'll take her up another thousand feet," he announced grimly.
"Then, if we're not above the storm it will be useless to go
higher."
"Why?" asked Ned, who had come back to stand beside his chum.
"Because we can't possibly get above the storm without tearing the
ship to pieces. I had rather descend."
"But won't that be just as bad?"
"Not necessarily. There are often storms in the upper regions which
do not get down to the surface of the earth, snow and hail storms
particularly. Hail, you know, is supposed to be formed by drops of
rain being hurled up and down in a sort of circular, spiral motion
through alternate strata of air--first freezing and then warm, which
accounts for the onion-like layers seen when a hailstone is cut in
half.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113