"I don't know, Rebecca. The Bible says the whole earth, you know."
And so passed the slow hours. When they were not dozing they were either nibbling frugally the scant fare in reach or conversing by short snatches at long intervals.
For thirty hours had they thus whirled ceaselessly around that circle, when Phœbe, glancing through the window at the ring to which their rope was attached, noticed that its constant rubbing against the ball at the top of the pole had worn it nearly through.
"My goodness, Rebecca!" she cried. "I believe we're goin' off at a tangent in a minute."
"What? How?"
"The ring on the pole is nigh worn out. I believe it'll break in a minute."
"If it breaks we'll move straight an' get rid o' this side weight, won't we?"
"Yes—but goodness only knows where we'll fly to."
"Why—ain't Mr. Droop there? If the side weight goes, he can get into the engine-room an' let us down easy."
"That's so!" cried Phœbe. "Oh, won't it be grand to stand still a minute after all this traipsin' around and around! Mr. Droop," she continued, "do you hear? You'd better be gettin' ready to take hold an' stop the Panchronicon, 'cause we're goin' to break loose in half no time."