Suddenly the Shanghai crowed loudly. "Tell yo' what!" cried the black man, scratching his head. "Dat rooster done crow fo' company."
"Company!" gasped Mark. "What does he think he hears up here—angels' wings? We're about as near being in the company of the celestial hosts as we'll ever be and remain alive, I reckon."
"No, sah!" retorted Washington. "Dat Shanghai done know dat we is near some oder fow-el——"
"Up here in the air, Wash?" cried Jack.
"Dunno whar dey is," said the darkey, doggedly. "Dar he crows ergin!
Dar is suttenly critters ob his kind nearby—yes—sah!"
It may have been the Shanghai's raucous tone that aroused Andy. The old hunter suddenly appeared on the platform behind the operator's seat, where the boys and Wash were clinging, and Andy brought his rifle with him.
"Hullo!" he said. "Is the watch called?"
"I'm sorry if we awoke you, Andy," Jack said. "There is nothing for you to do."
"Nothing to shoot at; eh?" said the old hunter. "I reckon I ain't of much use in a flying machine, anyway. Sort of 'up in the air'; ain't I?"
"That's where we all are," complained Mark. "And I, for one, wish we were down again."