The man from Saturn jumped and landed head first in the snow, but whether he was hurt or not the party never knew, for their speed was now so terrific that he had barely landed before they whizzed past the bottom of the hill and up the other incline. It became clear, too, as they sped on that at such a fearful rate of progress nothing could now keep the Oscycle from going over the edge, and the others began to lay plans for safety. [Illustration: THE MAN FROM SATURN JUMPED.] "I'm going to jump for a passing trolley cloud the minute we get to the edge," said the Kangaroo. "I don't know what I shall do," sobbed the Polar Bear. "If I land on my feet I'll be all right, for they're big and soft, like sofa cushions, but if I land on my head--" "That's softer yet, Poley," laughed the Flamingo, who appeared to be less concerned than anybody. "If you land on your head it will be just as if you fell into a great bowl of oatmeal, so you're all right." "I'm not afraid for myself," said the Poker. "I can drop any distance without serious injury, being made of iron, and my friends, the Andirons, are equally fortunate. The Bellows, too, is comparatively safe. The worst that can happen to him is to have the wind knocked out of him. But--" "It's Tom we're bothered about," said the Righthandiron, with an anxious glance at Lefty. "You see, we invited him to come off here with us, and--" "Who is he, anyhow?" demanded the Flamingo, glancing at Tom in such a way that the youngster began to feel very uncomfortable. "I'm a Dormouse," said Tom, remembering the agreement. "Not for this occasion," put in the Poker. "This time you're a boy, and we've got to save you somehow or other and we'll do it, Tom, so don't be afraid." "What kind of boy is he?" demanded the Flamingo. "One of these bean-snapping boys that go around shooting robins and hooking birds' eggs when they haven't anything else to do?" "Not a bit of it," said Righty. "He never snapped a bean at a bird in all his life." "Humph!" said the Flamingo. "I suppose he's been too busy pulling feathers out of peacocks' tails to decorate his room with to be bothering with robins and eggs." "Never did such a thing in all my born days," retorted Tom indignantly. "Probably not," sneered the Flamingo. "And why? Because you were so well satisfied keeping a canary locked up in a cage for your own pleasure that you hadn't any time to chase peacocks." "I've lived in the family forty years," said the Righthandiron, "and to my knowledge there was never a caged bird in the house." "Really?" said the Flamingo, looking at Tom with interest. "Rather a new kind of boy this. Very few boys have a good record where birds are concerned." "Tom's no enemy to birds," observed the Bellows. "I know that because I've been in his family longer than he has, and I've watched him."