Johnston made no answer. Half-an-hour went by. Thorndyke looked
at the sun.

"If the professor had not dropped the compass, we could find our
bearings," he sighed.

Johnston pointed upward. Thin clouds were floating above them.
"We are almost down," he said, and as they looked over the sides
of the car they saw the reflection of the sun on the bosom of the
ocean, and, a moment later, they caught sight of the blue
billows rising and falling.

"I see something that looks like an island," observed Thorndyke,
looking in the direction toward which the balloon seemed to be
drifting. "It is dark and is surrounded by light. It is far
away, but we may reach it if we do not descend too rapidly."

"Throw out the last bag of sand," suggested the American, "we
need it as little now as we ever shall."

Thorndyke cut the bag with his knife and watched the sand filter
through the bottom of the basket and trail along in a graceful
stream behind the balloon. The great flabby bag overhead
steadied itself, rose slightly and drifted on toward the dark
spot on the vast expanse of sunlit water. They could now clearly
see that it was a small island, not more than a mile in
circumference.

"How far is it?" asked Thorndyke.