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And with his own hands, the Man Killer at last conquered, as they laid him in an ambulance, he took the five-inch, open-work steel box, the precious record, from that knapsack's depth and handed it to her. She could not look at it, the little Thunder Bird's log of that two-hundred mile trip aloft, she could only jealously clasp it to her breast, Toandoah's little pal.
Shoot!", Toandoah's battle-cry, she was pressing the electric button which, connected with a switch in the Thunder Bird's tail, would start it off, pointed directly for the moon, to light up that silver disc with a bright powder-flash visible here on earth. She was mesmerized by its wild, red eye.
And, as once before in a watery pinch, the thought of Toandoah's honor, Toandoah's debt to this trapped March hare, was the vital breath of inspiration. "Have have you any matches?" Suddenly she bent to the ashen ear. "In my br-reast pocket, yes." It was a feebly appreciative flicker. "A fire! I I a Camp Fire Girl and not to think of it sooner! Una! Una! Get busy!
"Oh! I feel it in my toes that this is going to be a won-der-ful party," said Toandoah's little pal, kicking lightly, impatiently with those satin toes of her party slippers at the tufted grass, as she sat enthroned upon the sod of the cliff's brow, with two knights beside her, Stud of the stout heart, and a bright-eyed luckless tenderfoot, whose parents, in a fit of dementia surely, had named him Louis Philip Green, which, as he used only the initial letter of his second name, had of course entailed a nickname.
Suppose, on the great night of the first experiment with Toandoah's little rocket, Ta-te, jealous of a rival in the small Thunder Bird which could out-soar all the winds of Earth out-soar even the air, their cradle should meanly seize upon the black, silk parachute, light as soot, anchored to the golden egg, the little recording apparatus!
And the daughter of the man, still sitting afar in his quiet laboratory, fitting little powder charges into a model Thunder Bird, set herself to battle through the swirling gap of that half-covered window-frame clutched and hampered now yet upholding, even if it was her daring death-thought, Toandoah's honor in the flood.
She never qualified that dream by an if, wherever the funds to equip it might come from or even if it had to wait a dozen years, Toandoah's triumph, like that fortune "hung up " for the great Bird to make its new migration to the moon, in proof that space was no barrier when the Thunder Bird, giving all, as the log had done, would drop its skeleton upon the desert of that silent satellite.
Pem was staring intently at the speaker, her black brows drawn together over eyes as speculatively blue as ever they had been in Toandoah's laboratory when grasping, or trying to, grave problems of the air. "Oh! I know. I know!" she cried suddenly, the blue breaking up in the firelight into a harlequin patchwork of merry gleams. "A henkyl! Why-y! it's a joke.
Young, too, I should say!" Again Toandoah's deep chant of laughter buoyed his daughter's treble note, as he began to read: "Professor G. Noel Lorry, Nevil University. My dear Sir, Having learned that you are perfecting an apparatus that will reach any height even go as far as the moon and that it will be capable of carrying a passenger, I should like to volunteer for the trip.
It was as if she had soared with that monster rocket, Toandoah's invention, outside the earth's atmosphere, were being hurled about in the horrible vacuum of space, its unplumbed heart of cold, so far so annihilatingly far below the balmy zero point of old Mother Earth on a February day when two light-hearted girls were going skiing. She was growing numb.
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