"Somebody bail out the boat," he shrieked in real terror, "it's sinking!" And so it was. The feather wheels, wet and draggled by the rain, moved slower and slower, and the bus was now so full of water that every time it lurched sideways the luckless voyagers were submerged. It was like flying in a very deep and dangerous tub. "I never expected to be drowned in the air," screamed Notta. "Shall we jump overboard?" "Do you want to be dashed to pieces?" shouted Nick in reply. "Hold on to the sides." He called more directions, but the fury of the storm drowned even his shrill voice, and each found he had enough to do to keep from being washed over the edge. The water rose higher and higher and the bus sank lower and lower. With eyes closed, and only their heads above water, the four clung grimly to the feathery edges. When the bus finally struck the ground it did so with such force that they all let go and fell back into the water. The Cowardly Lion sprang out first, pulling Notta along with him. Then, realizing Bob was still struggling in the water, he impulsively sprang back, seized the little boy in his teeth and jumped out again. A shout from Snorer made him pause. Notta was bumping along on the end of the rope like a big bag of clothes. "You've killed him," wailed Nick angrily. But just then, with a watery sigh, the clown opened his eyes. Immediately he began fumbling in his chest pocket. "What are you trying to do?" screamed Snorer. "My disguise," choked the clown. "I must put on my disguise--first disguise, then joke and run, you know!" "You don't need any disguise," wailed the Cowardly Lion remorsefully. "You look like almost anyone." "I feel the same way," coughed the clown. "Am I dashed or drowned or both?" "Neither," croaked Snorer sorrowfully. "Only tied to a very forgetful friend." The disguises, concealed in various parts of Notta's apparel, were dragged down in disfiguring lumps about his knees. There were four bumps on his forehead and one was coming on the back of his head. Bob, though shivering and wet, was otherwise unhurt, so he and Nick helped Notta to the Cowardly Lion's back, and, dripping and shaken, the air-wrecked party started toward a little hut near which they had fallen. "Where's the Fallaboutabus?" muttered Notta thickly, as the Cowardly Lion stumbled over the sill. "I don't care where it is," groaned the lion. "I hope it's busted. I'm against flying in all its branches." He dropped panting on the hearth, and Notta did not even move from his back. The hut evidently belonged to some thrifty woodcutter. It was quite neat and comfortable and there was a fire all ready to light.