“That ends it,” observed Frank, complacently.

“And he never touched us,” echoed his cousin, evidently with more or less relief.

“Now take a look back and see what they are doing, Andy.”

“H’m! still coming right along at top-notch speed,” replied the other.

“All right.  There’s going to be a change soon.  Look down, Andy.”

“Oh, Frank, what a dandy open space!  If only that plagued biplane was in Guinea, how easy we could spiral down and make a landing there!”

“Yes!” said Frank, “And, mark me, that is just what they intend doing.  As for us, we’ll have to move along further into the wilderness and hope that another chance will come to let us out before everything is blotted from sight by utter darkness.”

“Frank, they’ve just sighted the open spot!” cried Andy, a few seconds later.

“All right, what did I say?” demanded his cousin.

“They’ve given up the chase, sure!”

“And are about to drop down to make a landing for the night; is that so?” asked Frank, eagerly, for their own chances were getting poorer with every passing minute and secretly he was more worried than he chose to admit.

“Just what they’re doing right now, beginning to spiral down.  Puss and his old biplane weren’t in it again with our dandy little Bug.  There they go, Frank.  Don’t I wish we had as good a place to grab hold of the old earth!”

“Well,” Frank continued, gravely, “turn around and look your prettiest for it, then.  Don’t let even a half way decent spot go by.  Any port in a storm, the sailor says, and that ought to apply to the airship tar just as well.  See anything yet, Chum Andy?”

“N-no, can’t say that I do,” came the reply, as the other eagerly bent his gaze on the tree tops that they were beginning to approach closer, for Frank had turned the lever of the deflecting rudder in order to start the monoplane earthward.

And the more they dropped the lower the sun seemed to get, until part of his glowing disc appeared to touch the horizon.

Already it was growing dusk below them, and the dense foliage of the interlocked branches of the trees seemed to offer an insuperable barrier to a successful landing.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CAMP IN THE TROPICAL JUNGLE.

“Frank, this is tough luck!” Andy exclaimed, presently.

“Keep up your spirits, old fellow!” called out the other, cheerily.  “Has the biplane succeeded in making a landing yet?”

“I guess so,” replied Andy, moodily.  “Can’t see any sign of her back there.  And besides, it’s actually getting dark down below, even while we can see a bit of the sun up here.”

“That’s because of the contrast.  I’ll drop still lower, so we’ll just clear the top of the forest.  Then you won’t need the glasses, Andy.  Both of us must keep a clever lookout for a chance.  Every now and then there happens to be some opening in the forest, you know.”