“Is there room?” gasped the Prince. “Grampa, are you there?” But Grampa was not there. Neither, for that matter, was Tatters himself, for his feet instead of resting on earth, rested on nothing. A great wind whistled past his ears and blew his hair straight on end.
“The temperature’s falling!” The voice of the weather cock came stuffily through the bear skin.
“Everything’s falling!” gasped the Prince of Ragbad, hugging Bill and the red umbrella close to his chest. “Everything!”
You can easily understand what had happened. There was no bottom to the hollow tree. When Grampa, Prince Tatters and Bill crawled into the hole, they simply disappeared. They dropped—down—down—down!
Down the Hollow Tree
CHAPTER 5
Down the Hollow Tree
Now falling, when you first start, is a hair-raising business, but after you have fallen for a mile and twenty minutes and nothing serious happens you grow rather used to the feel of it. And that’s how it was with Tatters.
“Bill,” he shouted presently—he had to shout for the rush of air carried away his words as fast as they were spoken—“Bill, where do you suppose we’re falling to?”