“Why, I’m all right, Dulcie,” declared David. “A little stiff, but that will disappear as soon as I move around.”
“Anyway, you are to go to bed. Gee, wasn’t that storm a whiz-bang? I was never so thrilled in my life.”
“Where were you?” asked David.
“Right close to Doctor Trigg,” replied Dulcie. “He was calm as calm!”
“You are a nervy kid,” said David, admiringly. “I’m proud of you.”
“Well, we are all proud of you,” she replied. “Dad says even Captain Fraine could not have done better. To tell you the truth, David, dad feels pretty glum about the way he butted in and ordered you to make altitude. He says that he had put you in charge, and that it was up to him to go by your judgment. And he says that it was lucky for us you dropped to a lower altitude when you did. It probably saved the ship.
“And he says, as long as you did bring us through, he doesn’t regret meeting the storm one bit. It only proved the stability and strength of the dirigible. My! By the time those reporters get through writing it up, dirigibles are going to be the whole thing.”
“Well, I’m glad the commander isn’t sore at me for using my own judgment,” said David, a relieved look on his face. “I just had to do it, Dulcie.”
“He isn’t; and of course you had to, and he’s going to tell you so,” said Dulcie. “Oh, there comes the sun! Wonderful, isn’t it?”
David turned to the window. Above, the leaden clouds were breaking up and turning to fleece—innocent, pretty masses that looked as though they had been assembled for purely decorative purposes. The first rays of the sun turned them faintly pink, and changed the leaden sea to silver.