Across the land, we'll swiftly hum,
We are prepared for rain or shine,
For dusty road or foamy brine.

"Hurrah!" shouted the Elephant from down below. "Bravo, Sir Chanticleer!"

"You'll have to excuse me now," said Marjorie to the Weathercock, "for I
must pull on my shoes and stockings and brush my hair. You don't have to
bother about such things, you know. That's one advantage of being a
weathercock."

After breakfast, as they all sat in the cabin, Capt. Noah remarked: "I'm
getting a trifle worried. You see, I can't tell by the barometer whether
the Ark is floating or wheeling. Now, that is rather important. If we keep
on in this way I shall have to get a speedometer. It wouldn't be very nice
to be arrested for breaking the speed laws and be locked up in jail."

Mrs. Noah turned pale and the Weathercock shifted about uneasily on the
top of the flagpole. "No, indeed," he said, "I don't want to be a
jailbird."

"Well, what's the best thing to do?" asked Mrs. Noah.

"Count the telegraph poles as we go along," suggested Ham. "I think there
are about thirty to a mile, and see how long it takes to pass them."

"That's a good idea," said Mr. Jonah, but when they looked out of the
portholes they couldn't find any telegraph poles.

And just then, all of a sudden, a pistol shot rang out clear and loud.