The Woggle-Bug declared he was sea-sick; and Tip was also pale and somewhat
distressed. But the others clung to the backs of the sofas and did not seem
to mind the motion as long as they were not tipped out.
Darker and darker grew the night, and on and on sped the Gump through the
black heavens. The
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travelers could not even see one another, and an oppressive silence settled
down upon them.
After a long time Tip, who had been thinking deeply, spoke.
"How are we to know when we come to the pallace of Glinda the Good?" he
asked.
"It's a long way to Glinda's palace," answered the Woodman; "I've traveled
it."
"But how are we to know how fast the Gump is flying?" persisted the boy. "We
cannot see a single thing down on the earth, and before morning we may be
far beyond the place we want to reach."
"That is all true enough," the Scarecrow replied, a little uneasily. "But I
do not see how we can stop just now; for we might alight in a river, or on,
the top of a steeple; and that would be a great disaster."
So they permitted the Gump to fly on, with regular flops of its great wings,
and waited patiently for morning.
Then Tip's fears were proven to be well founded; for with the first streaks
of gray dawn they looked over the sides of the sofas and discovered rolling
plains dotted with queer villages, where the houses, instead of being dome-
shaped -- as they all are in the Land of Oz -- had slanting roofs that rose
to a peak
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in the center.
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