In one moment, it soared straight upright, far far into space, and the men who were left behind stood staring amazedly after it, themselves looking no more than tiny black pin-heads down below,--then, with a slow diving grace it righted itself as it were, and as if it had of its own will selected the particular current of air on which to sail.

It travelled with a steady swiftness in absolute silence,--its great wings moved up and down with a noiseless power and rhythm for which there seemed no possible explanation,--and Morgana turned her face, now delicately flushed with triumph, on the pale and almost breathless Gaspard, smiling as she looked at him, her eyes questioning his.

He seemed stricken dumb with astonishment,--his lips moved, but no word issued from them.
"You believe me now, do you not ?" she said--"We have nothing further to do but to steer.

The force we use re-creates itself as it works--it cannot become exhausted.

To slow down and descend to earth one need only open the compartments at either end--then the vibration grows less and less, and like a living creature the 'White Eagle' sinks gently to rest.