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CHAPTER 22 - THE FLIGHT OF THE PARASOL

Holding the handle of the parasol, Dorothy steered it with all the skill of an

aviator, and in several minutes after their start the party had entered the

deep, black passage down which the Scarecrow had fallen. Each one of the

adventurers was fastened to the parasol with ropes of different length so

that none of them bumped together, but even with all the care in the world

it was not possible to keep them from bumping the sides of the tube. The

Comfortable Camel grunted plaintively from time to time, and Dorothy could

hear the Doubtful Dromedary complaining bitterly in the darkness. It was

pitch dark, but by keeping one hand in touch with the bean pole, Dorothy

managed to hold the parasol in the center.

How long will it take?" she called breathlessly to the Scarecrow, who was

dangling just below.

Hours!" wheezed the Scarecrow, holding fast to his hat. "I hope none of the

parties on this line hear us," he added nervously, thinking of the Middlings.

What recks it?" blustered Sir Hokus. "Hast forgotten my trusty sword?" But

his words were completely drowned in the rattle of his armor.

"Hush!" warned the Scarecrow, "Or we'll be pulled in." So for almost an

hour, they flew up the dark, chimney-like tube with only an occasional

groan as one or another scraped against the rough sides of the passage.

Then, before they knew what was happening, the parasol crashed into

something, half closed, and the whole party started to fall head over heels

over helmets.

O!" gasped Dorothy, turning a complete somersault, "catch hold of the bean

pole, somebody!"

"Put up the parasol!" shrieked the Scarecrow. Just then Dorothy, finding

herself right side up, grasped the pole herself and snapped the parasol wide

open. Up, up, up they soared again, faster than ever!

"We're flying up much faster than I fell down. We must be at the top!" called

the Scarecrow hoarsely, "and somebody has closed the opening!"

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The Royal Book of Oz