The English youth blinked, swallowed hard, and gave a little uncertain shake of his head.
"Unbelievable, incredible!" he finally got out. "Are—are those really buildings down there? The New York skyscrapers I've heard so much about?"
By way of making his question clear, Freddy pointed at the towering heaps of stone that formed the Wall Street and midtown sections of the city. Dave squinted down and grunted.
"Those little shacks?" he echoed. "Why, those are just the little huts where the poor people live. Wait until you see the real buildings. How high are we, anyway? Hope the pilot of this thing stays over three thousand feet. Be tough to smack into a skyscraper, you know."
Freddy Farmer snorted and dug an elbow into Dawson's ribs.
"Oh, come off it, funny lad!" he snapped. "That one wasn't even worth a quiet smile. Point out some of the buildings, will you? The Empire State Building. Where is it, anyway?"
Dawson pointed it out to his friend, and then went on to point out many of the other buildings of Manhattan that were famous the world around.
"But the Empire State tops them all," he said at the end of his little tourist guide speech. "Funny thing about it, though. The Empire State is the tallest building in the world, but it's not the highest. Ever realize that?"
Freddy took his eyes off the view just long enough to give him a quizzical stare.
"The tallest, but not the highest?" he said. "What kind of rubbish is that?"