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Lost in the Air by Roy J. Snell
page 77 of 174 (44%)
Her secret service days over for the present, the "sub" had been given a
coat of black paint. Now, as she scudded through the dark waters of
Behring Sea, Dave, standing in the conning-tower, thought how much she
must resemble a whale. During the war many a leviathan of the deep had
met death because he resembled a submarine. Now, in peace times, in this
feeding ground of the greatest of all prey, the tables might be turned,
the submarine taken for whale.

The race was on. Across Behring Sea they sped through foam-flecked waves
and driving mists. Pausing only a day at Nome, they pushed on past Port
Clarence, rounded Cape Prince of Wales, and entered boldly into the
great unknown, the Arctic Ocean. A million wild fowl, returning to the
Southland, shot away over their heads. Here and there they saw little
brown seals bob out of the water to stare at them. Once they ran a race
with a great white bear, and again they sighted a school of whales. They
gave these a wide berth, for should they grow friendly and mix their
great flippers with the sub's propeller, trouble would follow. Walrus,
too, were avoided, for they had a playful habit of bumping the
under-surface of any craft they might chance to meet.

At last, far to the North there appeared a glaring white line. They had
reached the ice. Their days of merry sailing on the surface were
well-nigh over. From this time on life would be spent in stuffy,
steel-lined, electric-lighted compartments. But for all that, it would
not be so bad. Openings in the floes would offer them opportunities to
rise for a breath of fresh air, and dangers seemed few enough, since
the ocean everywhere was deep, and ice-bergs, sinking dangerously to a
great depth below the surface, were few. Only the piles of ice and
great six-foot-thick pans would make a white roof to the ocean, which
was not without its advantage, for here the water would always be
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