The helicopter was chewing into the wind, coming closer and closer to
Pony Ranch. Almost over the house it stopped in midair, engine roaring.
It silenced even Grandma's music.
Everyone flew to the window, including Misty. They watched as the noisy
machine hung over their heads.
"He's trying to decide!" Paul yelled.
"Who is? What?" Maureen wanted to know.
"The pilot, silly. He's figuring out where to land."
Grandpa was spellbound. "Ain't that beautiful? It's hangin' in the air
jes' like a hummer-bird."
"Oh, mercy me!" Grandma cried as the helicopter tilted drunkenly, and
began a steep vertical descent. "Oh ... oh! It's going to set right in
my daffydil bed!"
Like a bird aiming for its nest, the helicopter hovered over the
mounded-up flower bed, then squatted down on the tiny patch.
Grandma watched in dismay as its rotors spit sand and water in every
direction. She hid her face in her hands. "Oh, Clarence! Oh, Clarence!"
she sobbed. "I can't go. I can't!"
"And why can't ye?" Grandpa demanded.
"Because, because...." She groped for a reason. "Misty'll ruin my
linoleum and...." Here the sobbing became a wail, "... she'll chew on
my nice new table with the let-down leaves."
"No, she won't!" Paul was on the defensive. "I'll stay and watch her."
"You listen to me, Paul Beebe," Grandpa exploded. "Anybody stayin'
behind'll be me, head o' the household. Quick now! Everybody grab a
blanket. I'll go out and explain things to that pilot." He started for
the door.
Grandma reached it first and made a barricade of herself. Her crying
was done. "If'n you stay behind, Clarence, we all do. Either we go as a
fambly or we stay as a fambly."
Grandpa sighed, half amused, half annoyed. "Then everything's settled.
Throw yer mind outa gear, Idy, and get yer duds on."
While Grandma was struggling into her overboots, Grandpa and the
children were doing last-minute chores: opening a window from the top,
just a crack, taking vegetables from the refrigerator and scattering
them in amongst Misty's hay. Last of all, Grandpa put the stopper in
the sink and turned on the cold water. "Makes a neat water trough, eh?"
he chuckled, avoiding Grandma's eyes.
"You think she can manage without us?" Maureen asked.
"We got to think that, honey. And even if the tide seeps in, I made
this straw bed so thick the little colt won't even get his hinder wet."
"Sure," Paul added. "And see how Wait-a-Minute is cozying up to Misty.
They'll keep each other company. And see how calm she is, watching
that 'copter. She's saying, 'I've seen big birds flapping their wings
before.'"
"Oh, Paul, I wish I could read critters' minds the way you do."
"That's easy, Maureen. You just got to be smart as them."
Mr. Birch, the Coast Guard man, welcomed the Beebes at the foot of the
stairs. Standing there in the water he looked like a preacher, ready
to baptise his flock. "Wisht everybody was prompt, like you folks," he
said as he herded them toward the helicopter, "and willing to cooperate
without arguin'."
"We did all that afore you came," Maureen said.
Mr. Birch laughed. "Leave it to the young'uns to come out with the
truth!" He helped Grandma up the steps and into the shuddering plane.
"See, Mrs. Beebe, it's easier than boarding a train."
Maureen started to follow but suddenly turned to Paul, and almost in
unison they let out one cry. "Skipper! Skipper!" They both called
frantically. "_S-k-i-p-p-e-r!_"
Mr. Birch was shaking his head. "Sorry, children. We just have room for
folks on this trip. All dogs stay behind."
"Put him in the kitchen, too," Grandma offered.
"Skipper! Here, Skipper!" The children whistled and screamed. But there
was no sign of him. Only the water swirling, and the trees bending with
the wind.
"All aboard!" the pilot called out. "We got another pickup to make
before dark. All aboard!"
Likely Skipper's drowned, Paul thought but didn't say aloud. He got
into the helicopter and took a seat where he could look out at the
house. But he refused to look.
"Fasten your seat belts!" the pilot ordered.
"Now, ain't this excitin'?" Grandpa yelled, as the blades overhead
began whirring madly and the helicopter rose slowly off the earth and
climbed straight up and up. "It's just like bein' in a elevator."
Grandma shook her head. She leaned toward the earth, taking a long last
look at Pony Ranch, saying good-bye to it. Grandpa squeezed her hand
comfortingly, and he looked down, too, down at the little house growing
smaller and smaller.
"Such a racket!" Maureen cried. "Sounds faster than we're going."
Grandma held her hands over her ears. "Feels as if a thousand dentists
are drilling inside my head."
"On your store teeth?" Paul grinned.
"Oh, Paul, stop teasing. I wish ... I wish you and Maureen was littler.
If only I had a baby to hold, I'd feel braver."
Grandma soon got her wish. At the next stop they picked up the Hoopers
and the Twilleys and young Mrs. Whealton with her squalling baby. Just
as the father of the baby was about to board, the pilot poked his head
out the window. "Sorry, sir. We're full. You'll have to wait for the
next one."
Quickly the young man tried to hand in a pile of diapers, but a gust of
wind tore most of them away and they went flying off like kites.
Mrs. Whealton, clutching her baby, started to get out.
"Stay put, lady. Everybody! Stay put!"
"I'll be along soon," Mr. Whealton called. And before the door closed,
he thrust in the remaining diapers and the baby's bottle.
As the helicopter took off, Mrs. Whealton began sobbing louder than her
baby. The passengers looked at one another, helpless and embarrassed.
All except Grandma. She opened wide her arms.
"You just hand that little tyke acrost to me," she smiled, "and wipe
yer eyes. You kin busy yerself foldin' the few diapers you got left."
Willingly Mrs. Whealton passed the baby across the aisle and into
experienced hands. The crying stopped at once.
The northeast wind shook the helicopter, but it obeyed the pilot's
stick. "We take no back talk from the elements," Mr. Birch said to
reassure his passengers.
The plane was heading into the wind, flying low over the channel and
over the long rib of sand that was Assateague. Everyone scanned the
hills and woods for wild ponies.
"I see a bunch!" Paul cried.
"I knowed it! I knowed it!" Grandpa exulted. "They're atop the White
Hills."
The pilot tried to hold the plane steady, but the gale buffeted it
mercilessly. Twice he circled the herd, then climbed and headed due
west. The island of Assateague seemed to be sailing backward, and now
they were over Chincoteague again.
"Mr. Birch!" Maureen shouted. "Look at the people on that raft. They're
waving a white flag."
"I see it," Mr. Birch answered, "but it's a housetop, not a raft, and
they're waving a bedsheet. They don't know we got a full load."
From the cockpit the pilot called back, "We'll get 'em on the next
trip. No, we won't!" he contradicted. "I see another chopper heading
this way. They'll beat us to it."
Mr. Hooper, a quiet little man, said his first words of the trip.
"Sky's so full o' whirlybirds we're goin' to need a traffic cop up
here."
In spite of all the tragedy, the passengers couldn't help smiling at
Mr. Hooper's joke.
"Yup," Grandpa agreed. "I can eenamost see a policeman mounted on a
cloud like a parson in a pulpit."
But the make-believe fun didn't last. Now they were over the big bay of
water, and now they could see the wavy shore of the mainland. Slowly
the helicopter came down from the sky onto a landing field at Wallops
Station. A thin fog was closing in and the night lights were already on
as the Beebes and Hoopers and Twilleys and Mrs. Whealton tumbled out
of the plane like seeds from a pod. A gust of wind swept them into a
little huddle.
Suddenly the adventure and excitement were over. Standing there in the
rain, Paul felt what he was, a refugee, homeless and cold and hungry.
And half his mind was far away in a hay-strewn kitchen.
_Chapter 11_