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Updated: May 15, 2025
But he was quite sure that the enemy that had driven him down into the storm-cloud could see the Snowbird no better than he could see that strange aeroplane that had threatened to collide with them. So he shot the Snowbird upward again at a long slant, and put on all the power of the engine to drive her onward. The flying machine shook and throbbed in every part.
And there were chickadees and juncos, which are one kind of snowbird; and there were a lot of little birds which looked like sparrows, and there were red-polled linnets, and occasionally a flock of cedar-birds would cover the cedars like gray snowflakes, and once David's mother called him to come quick and see the pine grosbeaks.
From some unreclaimed common near by came the first strain of the song sparrow; so homely, because so old and familiar, yet so inexpressibly pleasing. Presently a full chorus of voices arose, tender, musical, half suppressed, but full of genuine hilarity and joy. The bluebird warbled, the robin called, the snowbird chattered, the meadowlark uttered her strong but tender note.
It was some time after midnight when they pronounced the Snowbird again ready for flight. The professor had to be urged more than once to leave his telescope, however; and then he insisted upon setting it up on the deck of the flying machine.
Jack Darrow asked, as they became comfortable in the fire's warmth and threw back their fur wraps. "I am not sure of that, Jack," returned the scientist. "From our experience in the Snowbird, since the eruption that threw us off into space, and while on the higher levels of air, we cannot doubt that at a thousand feet above this ice, at least, animal life would become extinct."
With the moonlight lying like a benediction over the fields and forests of Maine, the Snowbird, her motor humming like a huge bumble-bee, and her propellers and controls working in perfect order, swept on her course into the northwest. The lights of Easton, ten miles from their home, melted into the earth-shadow behind the sky-voyagers within the first hour of the sure-to-be eventful journey.
It must surely detain the Snowbird on its return journey. Just then an old fisherman came up, touching his cap. "Beggin' yer pardon, sor," he said. "Is yer after findin' th' doctor gettin' any better?" "I can hardly tell you," answered Daddy, impatiently. "I know very little about such things, but he looks very badly to me." "Oh! The pity of it!" exclaimed the man.
He sent for Miller, finally, and made a good-natured complaint that the game was too slow for him. "Shall I raise the limit?" the proprietor asked of Rouletta. The girl shrugged indifferently, whereupon the Mocha Kid and the Snowbird embraced each other and exchanged admiring profanities in smothered tones.
A snowbird alighted on the window-sill, glanced familiarly in at the man, and shot up its crest; but disappointed perhaps that it was not noticed, quoted its resigned gray phrase a phrase it had made for itself to accompany the score of gray whiter and flitted on billowy wings to a juniper at the corner of the house, its turret against the long javelins of the North.
Why, we have Robinson Crusoe and that last polar expedition beaten a city block. I never do see a pot hanging over the fire like that but I think of some of the delicious stews that Jim Parker made for us the Christmas vacation we spent with him out on his ranch in Middle Park. Snowbird stew good? O my! It has turkey beaten a thousand directions." "Snowbird stew?" questioned Chuck.
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