The airship had stopped suddenly, and they were unable to move her, and still they hovered over the wonderful land. Sea—sky—both of a most glorious blue; the verdure of this new land was green—“The same as our world,” murmured Alan. “But with what a difference,” whispered Sir John. “I never knew what the sea was until now,” said Alan. “I never realized what ‘colour’ was—what blue or green meant, until I looked down yonder.” New life was born in the three men. “I’ll call Desmond,” said Alan. Mavis was lying as he had left her—white, inert, silent. “Leave her,” he told his cousin. “She will be quite safe; but we’ve news at last—we are in sight of land.” When he reached the bows again, he saw they had dropped a few hundred feet, and were now well below the summit of the mountains. Below them, in a fertile valley, they saw what they thought were six giant birds running along a field. They rose, soared straight up, and flew directly toward the Argenta. They were like swans with outstretched wings, and necks like swans; but never had they seen birds of such a monstrous size. “They are as big as a small plane,” said Sir John wonderingly. “By Jove, I believe that’s what they are,” said Alan. As the “birds” drew nearer, they could see that the body was in reality the car of the plane. Soon six were circling round the Argenta, and the prisoners within could see figures standing in the cars of the strange looking aeroplanes. The Argenta gave a jolt, and quivered from stem to stern, and they felt themselves sinking. The newcomers had thrown out some kind of grappling rope and were pulling them to earth. They were nearer to this wonderful country. Already they could see the brilliant flowers—trees laden with wonderful fruit and bright plumaged birds fluttering about without any sign of fear. “Release the shutters,” said Alan hoarsely. “No,” said Sir John with decision. “Remember we have on board a defenceless woman and her child. We don’t yet know if we are in the hands of friends or enemies. I’ll get my revolver. Dez, my boy, I’ll give it to you. Stay in your cabin and be prepared. You understand?” “Shoot—her?” asked Desmond hoarsely. Sir John bowed his head. “Surely you would rather do it than me?” “Yes—but—” “There is no ‘but,’ my boy. Rather death than horrors unnameable. Stay in the cabin with your wife and child. If I think we are in good hands I will call you. Otherwise, I will give our whistle—the one we used when you were boys—the three sharp calls, and a long minor note,” and he illustrated it softly. “If you hear that,—don’t hesitate, my boy.” They gripped hands, and Desmond, dazed, speechless, walked unsteadily out of the room, and they heard the click of his cabin door as it closed behind him. Slowly, but surely the Argenta was being dragged down to the field below. At last they touched solid ground—there was a scrunch and a grating—they were on some earth at last.