The plane still was slanting smoothly downward. After oiling all of Nick's joints and thinking how fortunate it was they had brought along the oil can, Jellia began marching up and down behind the Soldier, examining the pictures and charts on the wall as she went along. The cake and a long drink of water from the cooler had done much to restore her courage and cheerfulness, and an occasional glance out the window was both pleasant and reassuring. The Oztober was dropping through fluffs and puffs of creamy cloud. "Just like whipped cream on strawberries--if we had any strawberries!" mused Jellia, withdrawing her gaze reluctantly from the window and resuming her march. "Oh, Nick, here are some directions!" she cried suddenly, stopping before a finely printed notice beside the water cooler. "Directions?" The Tin Woodman looked round rather annoyed. He felt he had almost mastered the mechanism of the Ozoplane and did not care to start a new system. But the directions that Jellia read off had nothing to do with the navigation of the plane. They were rules for the behavior of passengers in the strat. "The air in this cabin has been magically treated," stated the notice. "So long as the windows and doors are closed, riders may safely pass through the highest stratas. On debarking, however, it would be well to don my patent protective air helmets, see chest beneath second seat, or to take one, for each mile up, of my elutherated altitude pills, from the recess in the table leg." Jellia, whose bump of curiosity was larger than most, lost no time hunting for the helmets. Dragging the chest from beneath the second seat and paying no attention to the marching soldier, who stepped over her each time he passed, she impatiently lifted the lid. The four helmets in the chest were of some pliant, glassy material resembling cellophane. They belted in at the waist and after holding one up for Nick's inspection, Jellia put them back and returned the chest to its place. "Now _which_ leg of _which_ table?" pondered the little Maid in Waiting, her mind turning to the altitude pills. "Oh, what does it matter?" grinned the Tin Woodman as Jellia crawled under the navigator's table and began tapping its legs one after the other. "You'll soon be on solid earth and won't need altitude pills." Nick had made up his mind to bring the Oztober down to a landing wherever they happened to be. But Jellia scarcely heard him for at that moment she had discovered a small hook on one of the front legs of the table. Pulling it down, she disclosed a tall, triangular bottle in the hollow center. The pills were triangular too, and of every color in the rainbow. "Take one after each mile," read Jellia, uncorking the bottle and taking a good sniff. The pills smelled as good as they looked and she was about to sample one, when the Soldier with Green Whiskers gave a hoarse scream and such a leap that his head hit the ceiling.