Don't follow me
now, or watch, or I might fail."

Amos jumped up from the pine-covered ground. "Oh, Chris!" he cried,
his voice sharp with distress, "can't I go? You might get hurt.
There's no telling what could happen if you're all alone!"

Chris was tempted to take his friend with him but someone must get the
news back to the _Mirabelle_ if he should fail. If this happened, he
did not doubt but that the magic balloon would carry Amos safely to
the ship.

"No," he said after a long moment. "Better not. But I'd sure like to,
Amos. Now don't lose that package. It's your escape. Wish me luck."

Amos clasped his hand, and then, rushing off, dashed back again.

"Here, Chris. Our fruits. Better not to eat strange food in this
foreigny place. Good luck," he added.

Chris stuffed the dried fruit in his pocket. Amos turned back into the
darkening pine knoll, and Chris pushed his way out to the narrow steep
ledge, hanging high above the roofs of Peking.

Chris uncoiled the magic rope from around his waist, and standing as
far out on the rock ledge as he dared, in order to have the greatest
possible freedom of movement, he attempted for the first time to draw
an eagle in the air with the rope. It was a complicated, fast
maneuver. The rope twisted and whipped in the air, and the result was
a molted-looking, droop-tailed buzzard. Its wings were not wide
enough, its back very insecure to look at. In short, Chris knew, it
was a total failure.

He tried again, racing against the oncoming darkness, and this time he
succeeded, although, when he pulled it close and straddled the body of
the magic bird, his heart was in his throat that it might unfurl
itself, become just a rope, and hurl him to his death far below.

But this second eagle seemed secure enough. Chris pressed his hands on
the wings spread out on either side, with a jolt they flapped, and the
boy's strange conveyance moved somewhat unsteadily through the air.

Chris, frightened but resolute, found that by touching the head of the
bird in the direction he wanted to go, the magic eagle would turn, and
after a few moments to test out his new method of travel, Chris
coasted over the gaily tiled roofs as he hunted for something.

[Illustration]

Peking at that time had many palaces. Wealthy Chinese and people of
title and family owned beautiful houses set in terraced gardens
surrounded by parks and ancient trees. Somewhere, Chris had heard of
this and remembered it