le journey, only giving over when fairly satisfied that all
damage might be readily made good, after which the aerostat would be as
trustworthy as upon its first voyage on high.

Then, grasping the brothers each by a hand, he smiled genially, then
lifted eyes heavenward, to a moment later sink upon his knees with bowed
head and hands folded across his bosom.

Bruno and Waldo imitated his action, and, though no audible words
were spoken, never were more heartfelt prayers sent upward, never more
grateful thanks given unto the Most High.

Boy, youth, and man alike seemed fairly awed into silence for the next
few minutes, unable to so soon cast off the spell which had fallen upon
them, one and each, when realising how mercifully their lives had been
spared, even after all earthly hope had been abandoned.

As usual, however, Waldo was first to rally, and, after silently moving
around the aerostat, upon which the professor was already busily at work
by the last gleams of the vanished sun, he paused, legs separated, and
hands thrust deep into pockets, head perking on one side as he spoke,
drawlingly:

"I say, uncle Phaeton?"

"What is it, Waldo?"

"It'll never do to breathe even a hint of all this, will it?"

"Why so, pray?"

"Whoever heard it would swear we were bald-headed liars right from
Storytown! And yet,--did it really happen, or have I been dreaming all
the way through?"

Professor Featherwit gave a brief, dry chuckle at this, rising erect to
cast a deliberate glance around their present location, then speaking:

"Without I am greatly mistaken, my dear boy, you will have still other
marvellous happenings to relate ere we return to what is, rightfully or
wrongfully, called civilisation."

"Is that so? Then you really reckon--"

"For one thing, my lad, we are now fairly entered upon a terra
incognita, so far as our own race is concerned. In other words,--behold,
the Olympics!"

Both Bruno and Waldo cast their eyes around, but only a circumscribed
view was theirs. The shades of evening were settling fast, and on all
sides they could see but mighty trees, rugged rocks, a mountain stream
from whose pebbly bed came a soothing murmur.

"Nothing so mighty much to brag of, anyway," irreverently quoth Waldo,
after that short-lived scrutiny. "It wouldn't fetch a dollar an acre at
auction, and for my part,--wonder when the gong will sound for supper?"

That blunt hint was effective, and, letting the subject dro