But if he finally went to sleep it was to dream of fall after fall, of projections through space, which made his sleep a horrible nightmare.
However, nothing could be quieter than this journey through the atmosphere, whose currents had grown weaker with the evening.

Beyond the rustling of the blades of the screws there was not a sound, except now and then the whistle from some terrestrial locomotive, or the calling of some animal.

Strange instinct! These terrestrial beings felt the aeronef glide over them, and uttered cries of terror as it passed.

On the morrow, the 14th of June, at five o'clock, Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans were walking on the deck of the "Albatross." Nothing had changed since the evening; there was a lookout forward, and the helmsman was in his glass cage.

Why was there a look-out?
Was there any chance of collision with another such machine?
Certainly not.