“And the wind blows sometimes two or three days at a stretch!” cried Frankie.
“It’s lucky Tubby isn’t up here with us,” Dave said, grimly. “He would want to cast lots at once to see which one of the party should be eaten first.”
“Ugh! don’t joke like that, Dave,” begged Mina. “Maybe we will be dreadfully hungry before we get out of this place.”
“I’m hungry now,” announced Frankie.
“It is near time for luncheon,” agreed Wyn.
“‘Luncheon’! Huh!” ejaculated Dave. “I s’pose that’s the feminine of ‘lunch.’ I could eat a stack of pancakes and a whole can of beans right now. I’m too hungry for any mere ‘luncheon.’”
“Oh, dear! It’s so hot down here,” sighed Percy. “If we’ve got to stay, let’s go upstairs again, where there is some air stirring.”
“Let’s wave a signal from the window. Maybe somebody will see it and come to our rescue,” suggested Frank.
“And what could they do?” demanded Wyn, “These sails can’t be stopped from the outside; can they, Dave?”
“Not that I know of,” replied Dave. “If there was a tree near, a fellow might tie a kedge rope to it, and then throw the kedge over one of the arms. But that would tear the machinery all to pieces, I suppose, it would stop it with such a jerk.”