It became painfully evident where we should go.

We went up!

Up, up, up! In the suddenness of it, it seemed to me that we were shooting
straight for the midday sun, that another thirty seconds would see us
frying in the solar flames.

As I gripped the cushions, I believe that I shrieked with terror.

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!"