“We passed over Berlin at three-thirty, David,” he remarked. “If air conditions remain good, and we continue making seventy-five miles an hour, I think we can make up some of our lost time today.”
“I’m sure of it,” replied David, “especially if the wind stays with us.”
Monday dawned. It was a glorious soul-shaking dawn that appeared from nowhere, and without warning drowned the ship in splendor. As David watched, Dulcie came quietly to his side.
“Look, Davie!” she said. “See all those banners of gorgeous color. Don’t they look like endless lengths of silk, waving and billowing? And there are little silver ribbons, and all those chiffon clouds. See over there that deep orange and lavender, shading into rose and blue.”
“I’ll drop down,” said David. “Perhaps the earth is all dressed up, too.”
Slowly the Moonbeam lost altitude, sinking gently through the riot of color.
“Very dressy indeed,” Dulcie commented, as they gazed down at the ordered luxuriance.
“Funny everything over here looks like it had a clean white collar on. Even the woods. And see those farms. See the people waving. I suppose they are shouting, too.”
“Look, there’s one little speck running for the house,” cried Dulcie. “I’ll bet they have a telephone, and he’s gone to tell the neighbors in the next village about us. See, there is a group of houses away ahead.”
“Quite a little settlement. By George, you are right! Look in the square. See them come? I am going down a bit closer.”