of the city. When at last he descended, his guards were immediately
surrounded by a dense excited crowd. Afterwards it occurred to him that
some had attempted to reach him with petitions. His guards cleared a
passage for him with difficulty.

He found a monoplane in charge of an aeronaut awaiting him on the
westward stage. Seen close this mechanism was no longer small. As it lay
on its launching carrier upon the wide expanse of the flying stage, its
aluminum body skeleton was as big as the hull of a twenty-ton yacht. Its
lateral supporting sails braced and stayed with metal nerves almost like
the nerves of a bee's wing, and made of some sort of glassy artificial
membrane, cast their shadow over many hundreds of square yards. The
chairs for the engineer and his passenger hung free to swing by a complex
tackle, within the protecting ribs of the frame and well abaft the
middle. The passenger's chair was protected by a wind-guard and guarded
about with metallic rods carrying air cushions. It could, if desired, be
completely closed in, but Graham was anxious for novel experiences, and
desired that it should be left open. The aeronaut sat behind a glass that
sheltered his face. The passenger could secure himself firmly in his
seat, and this was almost unavoidable on landing, or he could move along
by means of a little rail and rod to a locker at the stem of the machine,
where his personal luggage, his wraps and restoratives were placed, and
which also with the seats, served as a makeweight to the parts of the
central engine that projected to the propeller at the stern.

The flying stage about him was empty save for Asano and their suite of
attendants. Directed by the aeronaut he placed himself in his seat. Asano
stepped through the bars of the hull, and stood below on the stage waving
his hand. He seemed to slide along the stage to the right and vanish.