"Stop!" yelled the Tin Woodman, turning a complete somersault and coming down on his funnel with one leg hooked through the luggage rack. "Stop! Who did that?"
"Pickles!" moaned a faint voice from the forward end of the cabin, "Oh, those pickles!" And that was probably as correct an answer as any to Nick's indignant question. Even upside down as he was, and subject to the fierce rocketing of the plane, the Tin Woodman could see a tall, green figure sprawled across the navigator's table. As he had bent over to examine the Oztober's steering apparatus, the Soldier with Green Whiskers had been taken with a violent cramp from the twenty-nine pickles he had eaten at the party. Falling heavily on the board he had pushed down ten of the Wizard's bright colored buttons. Following the directions of all ten, one after the other, the Oztober had exploded into the air and now, whistling and whirling like a comet bound for Mars, was charging into the Heavens.
Jellia Jam was too bruised and shaken to do anything but cling to the side of one of the seats. The Soldier, after his head had been whacked down three times on the board had lapsed into complete and utter silence. Only Nick managed to preserve a semblance of his usual calm and composure. Though severely dented by the plane's take-off, the Tin Woodman, being of metal, felt no pain. Nor was he subject to the giddiness that assailed ordinary flesh and bone bodies under such trying conditions. Even standing on his head did not greatly inconvenience him, and after the first dreadful shock, he began to perceive a certain order and rhythm in their flight. This was not strange.
The Soldier's fall had pressed down the button to inflate the Oztober's balloon, the "Up" and the "South" buttons, the "fast," "spin," "spiral," "zig," "zag," "slow" and "circle" buttons as well. So first, the Oztober would shoot up, then it would go into a fast spin, and spiral. The zigs and zags were a little less terrible, and on one of the slow circles, the Tin Woodman managed to extricate his foot from the luggage rack. Clattering full length in the aisle, he lay still, till the next slow circle. Then, leaping to his feet, he rushed forward and pulled the soldier off the steering board. He had just time to prop the unconscious army into the third chair, and fall into the pilot's seat himself, when the Oztober went into another fast spin and spiral. This rather upset Nick.
He had taken a hasty look at the navigator's table when he entered the ship and then, more interested in the metal of which the plane was constructed, had gone tapping about, testing it with his tin knuckles—intending to return to the steering gear later. He naturally had supposed that when he pulled the soldier off the board the plane would slow down or change its course. But nothing of the kind happened. All the buttons the soldier had fallen on stayed down. Grasping the wheel, Nick was relieved to find he could steady the Oztober a bit in this way. Holding to it with one hand, he tried to pull out the "spin" and "spiral" buttons with the other. But even his strong tin fingers could not budge them. Next, he glanced frantically over the board for a "stop" or a "down" button, but the "down" button when he found it, filled him with apprehension. If they shot down at the speed they were hurling upward, the plane most certainly would be wrecked. No, decided Nick, drawing his fingers hastily back from the "down" button—they were much safer in the air until he learned a little more about flying, and he'd just have to hang on till he discovered how the Ozoplane worked.
Grasping the wheel resignedly in both hands, he glanced back to see how Jellia was faring. Jellia was sitting dizzily in the middle of the aisle. But she was so encouraged to see Nick actually at the wheel, that she made her way to him and hung firmly to the arm of his chair. Just then, the Oztober whirled into its twentieth spin and spiral, and Jellia—dislodged from the chair—caught at the steering table to save herself from falling.
"Oh, now you've done it!" gasped Nick, as the Oztober gave a wicked lurch. "Oh, now—" His voice trailed off into a hoarse squeak, for, as abruptly as it had started, the plane stopped, and, held aloft by its still buoyant balloon, swung easily to and fro in the faint wind that stirred above the clouds. "Say! how did you do it?" Letting go the wheel, the Tin Woodman seized Jellia by the shoulders.
"What?" panted Jellia. "What did I do?"