windows.

There was something uncanny in the total silence. Even the noise of the
machinery was stilled, and the two sisters dressed together in Rebecca's
room for company's sake.

"Do you suppose we've arrived in Infinite Space yet?" Rebecca asked.

"It's still enough fer it," Phoebe replied, in a low voice. "But I
don't hear the Panchronicon's machinery any more. It must have run down
entirely, wherever we are."

At that moment there was borne faintly to their ears the distant crowing
of a cock.

"Well, there!" said Rebecca, with an expression of immense relief, "I
don't believe the's any hens an' roosters in Infinite Space, is the'?"

Phoebe laughed and shook her head as she ran to the window. She drew
aside the shawl hanging before the glass and peered out.

The first gleams of dawn were dispelling the night, and against a dark
gray sky she saw the branches of thickly crowding trees.

Dropping the shawl, she turned eagerly to her sister.

"Rebecca Wise!" she exclaimed. "As sure as you're alive, we're back safe
on the ground again. We're in the woods."

"Mos' likely Putnam's wood lot," said Rebecca, with great satisfaction
as she finally adjusted her cameo brooch. "Gracious! Won't I be glad to
see all the folks again!"

She pushed open her door and, followed by Phoebe, entered the main
room. Here all was gloom, but they could hear Droop's breathing, and
knew that he was still sleeping under the table in the corner.

"For the lands sakes! Let's get out in the fresh air," Rebecca exclaimed
as she groped her way toward the stairs. "You keep a-holt o' me,
Phoebe. That's right. We'll get out o' here an' make rabbit tracks fer
home, I tell ye. We can come back later for our duds when that mis'able
specimen is sober fer awhile again."

Slowly the two made their way down the winding stairs to the lower hall,
where, after much fumbling, they found the door handle and lock.

As they emerged from the prison that had so long confined them, a cool
morning zephyr swept their faces, bringing with it once more the
well-known voice of distant chanticleer.

They walked across the springing turf a few yards and were then able to
make out the looming black mass of some building beyond the end of the
air-ship.

"Goodness!" Rebecca whispered. "This ain't Peltonville, Phoebe. There
ain't a house in the town as high as that, 'less it's the meetin'-house,
an' 'tain't the right shape fer that."

They advanced stealthily