"How do you mean—weigh nothing at all?" demanded Burke. "Isn't the earth attracting us still?"
"Of course," retorted Bennie, "the earth is still attracting us, but its only effect will be gradually to reduce our velocity."
"Oh dear, I certainly feel very queer!" suddenly declared Rhoda. "I feel as one does in a 'flying' dream—terribly weird inside, I'm afraid I am going to be ill."
"No, you're not," Bennie encouraged her. "That is just an impression. You see, out here in space where we don't weigh anything, neither do our insides. They just sort of float around, and all the supporting membranes relax. It will pass off in a minute."
"Sure it will," put in Burke. "You get the same thing, only not as bad, when you make a fast dive in an aeroplane or drop through an ether whorl. I've noticed it often."
"Try holding your breath for a minute," suggested Doctor Bennie.
"I'd rather hold your hand, I think," she said softly, with a little blush. "But I'm beginning to feel better already."
"Now the fun is going to start!" announced their commander. "I think I'll leave you. Please excuse me for a moment."
He pressed quickly against the floor with his hands, and floated slowly up into the air over their heads until he grasped the stage below the telescope.
"I've got to take a squint at Medusa and see if we're on our direct course," he called down over his shoulder, at the same time navigating himself into position under the telescope. Holding the eyepiece lightly between his fingers, he reclined easily in a horizontal position in an attitude of rakish nonchalance in mid-air.