ful speed into nothingness.

At first everything was forgotten--wings, instructions, warnings, and
all. He even forgot to open his wings at all, and in another second he
would have been dashed upon the hard paving-stones of the courtyard
where his great enemy lay waiting to seize him.

But just in the nick of time he remembered, and the long hours of
practice bore fruit. Out flew the great red wings in a tremendous sweep
on both sides of him, and he began to strike with every atom of strength
he possessed. He had dropped to within six feet of the ground; but at
once the strokes began to tell, and oh, magical sensation! he felt
himself rising easily, lightly, swiftly.

A very slight effort of those big wings would have been sufficient to
lift him out of danger, but in his terror and excitement he quite
miscalculated their power, and in a single moment he was far out of
reach of the dangerous yard and anything it contained. But the mad rush
of it all made his head swim; he felt dizzy and confused, and, instead
of clearing the wall, he landed on the top of it and clung to the
crumbling coping with hands and feet, panting and breathless.

The dizziness was only momentary, however. In less than a minute he was
on his feet and in the act of taking his second leap into space. This
time it came more easily. He dropped, and the field swung up to meet
him. Soon the powerful strokes of his wings drove him at great speed
upwards, and he bounded ever higher towards the stars.

Overhead, the governess hovered like an immense bird, and as he rose up
he caught the sound of her wings beating the air, while far beneath him,
he heard with a shudder a voice like the rushing of a great river. It
made him increase his pace, and in another minute he found himself among
the little whirlwinds that raced about from the beating of Miss Lake's
great wings.

"Well done!" cried the delighted governess. "Safe at last! Now we can
fly to our heart's content!"

Jimbo flew up alongside, and together they dashed forward into the
night.

CHAPTER XI

THE FIRST FLIGHT

There was not much talking at first. The stress of conflicting emotions
was so fierce that the words choked themselves in his throat, and the
desire for utterance found its only vent in hard breathing.

The intoxication of rapid motion carried him away headlong in more
senses than one. At first he felt as if he never would be able to keep
up; then it seemed as if he never