But Hawkins, scared though he was, didn't lose his head entirely.
The machine hadn't turned turtle. It was ascending slowly in its
normal attitude, and as a matter of cold fact we hadn't risen more
than thirty feet when Hawkins remarked, shakily:
"There, there, Griggs! Sit still! It's all right. We're safe!"
"Safe!" I gasped, when sufficient breath had returned. "It looks as if
we were safe, doesn't it?"
"N-n-never mind how it looks, Griggs. We are. The propeller's working now."
"What good does that do us?" I demanded.
"Good!" cried the inventor, pulling himself together. "Why, we shall
simply steer for the roof of a house and alight."
"Always provided that this cursed contrivance doesn't heave us out first!"
"Oh, it won't," smiled Hawkins, settling down to his machinery once more.
"Dear me, Griggs, do look at the crowd!"
There was indeed a crowd. They had sprung up on the instant, and they were
racing along beneath us across the common, quite regardless of the "Keep
Off the Grass" signs.
"How they will stare when we step out on the roof, won't they?" observed
Hawkins.
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