"Not much," answered Tom. "One of the forward planes is
smashed, but we can rise by means of the gas, and float down. Is
all clear, Mr. Sharp?"
"All clear," replied the balloonist, for the airship had now
been wheeled back from the entanglement with the chimney.
"Then here we go!" cried Tom, as he and the aeronaut entered
the craft, while Mr. Jackson descended through the scuttle.
There came a fiercer burst to the storm, and, amid a series of
dazzling lightning flashes and the muttering of thunder, the
airship rose from the roof. Tom switched on the search-light,
and, starting the big propellers, guided the craft skillfully
toward the big shed where it was housed when not in use.
With the grace of a bird it turned about in the air, and
settled to the ground. It was the work of but a few minutes to
run it into the shed. Then they all started for the house.
"Bless my umbrella! How it rains!" cried Mr. Damon, as he
splashed on through numerous puddles. "We got back just in time,
Mr. Sharp."
"Where did you go?" asked the lad.
"Why we took a flight of about fifty miles and stopped at my
house in Waterfield for supper. Were you anxious about us?"
"A little when it began to storm," replied Tom.
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