They clung tightly to the ropes, but the breeze was with them, so after a few moments, when they became accustomed to the motion, they began to enjoy the ride immensely.

Larger and larger grew the island, and although they were headed directly toward it, the umbrella seemed to rise higher and higher into the air the farther it traveled.  They had not journeyed ten minutes before they came directly over the island, and looking down they could see the forests and meadows far below them.  But the umbrella kept up its rapid flight.

“Hold on, there!” cried Cap’n Bill.  “If it ain’t keerful, the ol’ thing will pass by the island.”

“I—­I’m sure it has passed it already,” exclaimed Trot.  “What’s wrong, Button-Bright?  Why don’t we stop?”

Button-Bright seemed astonished, too.

“Perhaps I didn’t say it right,” he replied after a moment’s thought.  Then, looking up at the umbrella, he repeated distinctly, “I said I wanted to go to Sky Island!  Sky Island, don’t you understand?”

The umbrella swept steadily along, getting farther and farther out to sea and rising higher and higher toward the clouds.

“Mack’rel an’ herrings!” roared Cap’n Bill, now really frightened.  “Ain’t there any blamed way at all to stop her?”

“None that I know of,” said Button-Bright anxiously.

“P’raps,” said Trot after a pause during which she tried hard to think.  “P’raps ‘Sky Island’ isn’t the name of that island at all.”

“Why, we know very well it ain’t the name of it,” yelled Cap’n Bill from below.  “We jus’ called it that ’cause its right name is too hard to say.”

“That’s the whole trouble, then,” returned Button-Bright.  “Somewhere in the world there’s a real Sky Island, and having told the Magic Umbrella to take us there, it’s going to do so.”

“Well, I declare!” gasped the sailorman.  “Can’t we land anywhere else?”

“Not unless you care to tumble off,” said the boy.  “I’ve told the umbrella to take us to Sky Island, so that’s the exact place we’re bound for.  I’m sorry.  It was your fault for giving me the wrong name.”

They glided along in silence for a while.  The island was now far behind them, growing small in the distance.  “Where do you s’pose the real Sky Island can be?” asked Trot presently.

“We can’t tell anything about it until we get there,” Button-Bright answered.  “Seems to me I’ve heard of the Isle of Skye, but that’s over in Great Britain, somewhere the other side of the world, and it isn’t Sky Island, anyhow.”

“This miser’ble ol’ umbrel is too pertic’ler,” growled Cap’n Bill.  “It won’t let you change your mind an’ it goes ezzac’ly where you say.”

“If it didn’t,” said Trot, “we’d never know where we were going.”

“We don’t know now,” said the sailor.  “One thing’s certain, folks:  we’re gett’n’ a long way from home.”

“And see how the clouds are rolling just above us,” remarked the boy, who was almost as uneasy as Cap’n Bill.