They flew and flew and flew. Maida could look out of her window and see
the lights in houses far beneath. By and by the sky turned gray, little
streaks of silver began to appear and the stars overhead grew pale.
The streaks of silver turned to pink, to crimson, and then a huge red
ball of fire seemed to shoot up out of the sea and hang in the East.
“What is it?” asked Maida. She was quite surprised when the Man with
the Growly Voice told her it was the sun. She had never seen the sun
look like that--for never before had she been awake at sunrise. Over
great lakes they sailed, and over forests of pines and ranges of high
mountains, but there were no more cities and towns, only tents with
Indians standing about them. And all the time the Man with the Growly
Voice stood beside the wheel, steering the airship and looking straight
ahead; you know how careful papa has to be when he takes you out in
his auto car? Well--it’s just like that when one is sailing a flying
machine, only it’s harder because an auto can only turn to the right
or left, and if anything happens to the sparking plug or the jibboom,
why papa can take the monkey-wrench and the hammer and the saw and the
screw-driver and crawl under the auto to fix it. Then when he finds
he’s only made it worse he can get a horse to haul you home again.
[Illustration: “When one is sailing a flying machine”]
But a flying machine can turn to the right and to the left. Besides
that, it can go up or down or sideways or turn over and over, and my
goodness, when anything happens to the sparking plug or the jibboom
of a flying machine you don’t have time to crawl under and fix it, for
it falls and falls--and--oh, it’s “shuddery” to think of such a thing.
Well--Maida knew the Man with the Growly Voice must be tired, and
besides it was breakfast time, so she asked him to let her sit by the
wheel and steer the flying machine a while:--then he could rest and get
breakfast, and of course he _did_. She was a very proud little girl as
she sat there guiding the airship through the air, and before long she
began to play a bit.
It was great sport to make a long dip downward and _just_ miss the top
of a mountain. It was quite a joke to glide along behind an eagle and
take him by surprise and watch him flap his wings madly to get out of
the way, as she hooted the horn, “hoot, hoot.” Did I tell you that all
flying ships have horns, just like automobiles? Well they do, to warn
the birds and frighten the shooting stars away. Oh, she was having a
lovely time.
Then the Man with the Growly Voice appeared in the door with a look of
dismay on his face. “I was in such a hurry to get away,” he said, “that
I forgot to bring a single thing to eat. Isn’t that just like an Arctic
Explorer? You see we’re so anxious to explore we forget all about such
things as food and clothes and fuel.”
“Maybe we could borrow some ice-cream from one of the little Eskimo
children,” faltered Maida timidly and she became so intent on thinking
about the breakfast she couldn’t have, that before she knew what she
was doing she ran slap-bang into a comet. Of course the comet had no
business there, and it was just as much surprised as Maida for it
shouted and shouted, but before they could stop they were right in the
midst of the tail. The Man with the Growly Voice sprang to the bow.
“Splice the bowsprit,” he roared. “Shiver the mainsail”--“luff-luff.”
“Please sir, I don’t know how to luff-luff,” quavered Maida. Alas, it
was no use. The comet switched its tail; because it _does_ tickle a
comet when a flying ship gets tangled up in its tail--and one of the
wings fell off the side of the ship. Then they began to go down, down,
down.
[Illustration: The Birds Came to the Rescue]
Did you ever fall out of bed in the night, when you were half asleep?
Well it felt just like that, only a million times worse. Down, down,
down. “Oh, haven’t you got a life-preserver or something,” sobbed
Maida. But the Man with the Growly Voice didn’t answer, he only stood
and said things like--well, like Uncle George says when he tries to
drive a nail and hits his thumb. Which was very naughty of him. Then
just when Maida had given up in despair and was so frightened her
heart had stopped beating--just when she was saying “_Now_--for an
awful bump,” a wonderful thing happened. Two of the very birds she had
been teasing flew up, one seized the Man with the Growly Voice by the
collar and the other seized Maida, then they flew gently with them down
to the ground--and there wasn’t any bump at all. Then they all sat and
looked at each other.