In his light, powerful fighter Ted climbed for the clouds. There weren’t many, but those he saw were immense. “Once you’re inside one of those babies you’re as good as lost,” he told himself.
Climbing through one of these he soared away, glorying in the wonderful beauties of the sunrise.
“The heavens declare the glory of God,” he repeated slowly. “And the firmament showeth His handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.”
If we could read half the things written in the skies we’d be mighty wise, he thought. After that for quite some time he sailed on, not thinking much about anything, just storing up energy for what lay ahead. And he was to need all the energy and wisdom he possessed.
He had covered the greater part of the distance to his destination, had picked out the island on which he believed his friends to be marooned, and was heading straight for it when he began to hear a strange, low, screaming noise.
“Rats!” he exclaimed. “Something’s wrong with my motor!”
Shutting off the gas, he glided silently downward, but still that strange sound reached his ears.
“Not my motor,” he thought, sending his ship shooting forward once more. “That’s the queerest thing I ever heard.”
Puzzled and disturbed by this strange phenomenon, he gave his ship a fresh burst of speed and headed straight for his island goal.
With every second the peculiar howling sound, which at first was little more than a whistle, increased until it was like a fire alarm.