"I do wonder where we'll land?" mused Jellia, trying to pierce with her bright eyes the bank of fog that lay beneath.
"Somewhere in the Quadling Country, I should judge," answered Nick, twirling the wheel deftly to the right. "And when we do—" At that instant, the Soldier with Green Whiskers let out another panicky squawk.
"Climb! Climb!" he panted, running up and down the aisle so fast he almost ran himself down on the about-faces. "We're ambushed, comrades! Fire in the fog! Land on the stern!"
"Oh, tin cups and canyons!" rasped Nick Chopper, losing his temper at last. "If this keeps up, how are we ever to get down? Hammer and tong it! Something's always getting in the way. WILL you stop that silly marching?" he yelled, snatching at the Soldier's sleeve as he raced by.
"HALT!" quavered Wantowin. Instantly obeying his own command, he stood trembling beside the navigator's table as Nick peered desperately down through the fog.
[CHAPTER 6]
Strut of the Strat
"What is it, Hippenscop?" Strutoovious the Seventh looked up impatiently as his first and fastest messenger came to a panting halt under the Imperial Canopy. Instead of answering, Hippenscop, his chest heaving and his eyes bulging, made a wordless gesture over his shoulder. Then, catching his foot in the royal boot-scraper, he fell violently up the steps of the dais. This was not unusual, for anyone who falls in Stratovania, falls up instead of down. Rather relieved to find himself before the throne at last, Hippenscop scrambled to his feet. Sucking in his breath he announced hoarsely: