oo, we were both a little scared the plane was booby-trapped.

* * * * *

Pop solved the problem in the direct way I might have expected of him by
stepping quietly between us, giving a light leap, catching hold of the
curving sill, chinning himself on it, and scrambling up into the plane
so quickly that we'd hardly have had time to do anything about it if
we'd wanted to. Pop couldn't be much more than a bantamweight, even with
all his knives. The plane sagged an inch and then swung up again.

As Pop disappeared from view I backed off, reaching for my .38, but a
moment later he stuck out his head and grinned down at us, resting his
elbows on the sill.

"Come on up," he said. "It's quite a place. I promise not to push any
buttons 'til you get here, though there's whole regiments of them."

I grinned back at Pop and gave Alice a boost up. She didn't like it, but
she could see it had to be her next. She hooked onto the sill and Pop
caught hold of her left wrist below the big glove and heaved.

Then it was my turn. I didn't like it. I didn't like the idea of those
two buggers poised above me while my hands were helpless on the sill.
But I thought _Pop's a nut. You can trust a nut, at least a little ways,
though you can't trust nobody else._ I heaved myself up. It was strange
to feel the plane giving and then bracing itself like something alive.
It seemed to have no trouble accepting our combined weight, which after
all was hardly more than half again the Pilot's.

* * * * *

Inside the cabin was pretty small but as Pop had implied, oh my!
Everything looked soft and smoothly curved, like you imagine your
insides being, and almost everything was a restfully dull silver. The
general shape of it was something like the inside of an egg. Forward,
which was the larger end, were a couple of screens and a wide viewport
and some small dials and the button brigades Pop had mentioned, lined up
like blank typewriter keys but enough for writing Chinese.

Just aft of the instrument panel were two very comfortable-looking
strange low seats. They seemed to be facing backwards until I realized
they were meant to be knelt into. The occupant, I could see, would sort
of sprawl forward, his hands free for button-pushing and such. There
were spongy chinrests.

Aft was a tiny instrument panel and a kind of sideways seat, not nearly
so fancy. The door by which we'd entered was t