"It is surely an island, and a little one, too," said he. "But I won't stop, because I see a much bigger land straight ahead of it."
"That's right," approved Cap'n Bill. "The bigger the land, the better it will suit us."
"It's almost a continent," continued the Ork after a brief silence, during which he did not decrease the speed of his flight. "I wonder if it can be Orkland, the place I have been seeking so long?"
"I hope not," whispered Trot to Cap'n Bill—so softly that the Ork could not hear her—"for I shouldn't like to be in a country where only Orks live. This one Ork isn't a bad companion, but a lot of him wouldn't be much fun."
After a few more minutes of flying the Ork called out in a sad voice:
"No! this is not my country. It's a place I have never seen before, although I have wandered far and wide. It seems to be all mountains and deserts and green valleys and queer cities and lakes and rivers—mixed up in a very puzzling way."
"Most countries are like that," commented Cap'n Bill. "Are you going to land?"
"Pretty soon," was the reply. "There is a mountain peak just ahead of me. What do you say to our landing on that?"
"All right," agreed the sailor-man, for both he and Trot were getting tired of riding in the sunbonnet and longed to set foot on solid ground again.
So in a few minutes the Ork slowed down his speed and then came to a stop so easily that they were scarcely jarred at all. Then the creature squatted down until the sunbonnet rested on the ground, and began trying to unfasten with its claws the knotted strings.