And Jeanne? Strange as it may seem, hidden away there in the hay, she had fallen fast asleep. Had you been there to waken her and ask her how she could sleep in such a place, doubtless her answer would have been:
“What would you have? I could not be harmed more quickly asleep than when awake. Besides, at heart I am a gypsy. Gypsies sleep where and when they may.”
In the meantime Rosemary Sample and her rich young pilot were battling the storm. Having long since lost the beaten airway, they were flying blind.
The storm was all about them. Now the lightning appeared to leap across their plane wings. Now, caught by a rushing gush of wind and rain, they were all but hurled through space; and now, met by a counter-current, like a ship in a heavy sea they appeared to stand quite still.
All this time, quite unconscious of the tumult, Rosemary was working over the radio. She tested a wire here, a tube there. She pried, twisted and tapped, but all to no avail.
And then, with a suddenness that was startling, they glided from out the storm into a gloriously moonlit world. The earth lay silent beneath them. The whole of it, groves of trees, broad farms, sleeping villages, was bathed in golden glory.
“If only we knew where we were!” Willie sighed.
“But boy! Oh boy! What do you think of my motor now? I didn’t think it would go through that.”
“You wouldn’t,” Rosemary replied drily.
Then of a sudden she fairly leaped to her feet. “It’s working!” she cried. “The radio is working! I’m getting something.