“We’re in the sky, all right,” said the girl.  “If there could be an island up here among the clouds, I’d think it was there we’re going.”

“Couldn’t there be one?” asked Button-Bright.  “Why couldn’t there be an island in the sky that would be named Sky Island?”

“Of course not!” declared Cap’n Bill.  “There wouldn’t be anything to hold it up, you know.”

“What’s holding us up?” asked Trot.

“Magic, I guess.”

“Then magic might hold an island in the sky.  Whee-e-e!  What a black cloud!”

It grew suddenly dark, for they were rushing through a thick cloud that rolled around them in billows.  Trot felt little drops of moisture striking her face and knew her clothing was getting damp and soggy.  “It’s a rain cloud,” she said to Button-Bright, “and it seems like an awful big one, ’cause it takes so long for us to pass through it.”

The umbrella never hesitated a moment.  It made a path through the length of the heavy, black cloud at last and carried its passengers into a misty, billowy bank of white, which seemed as soft and fleecy as a lady’s veil.  When this broke away, they caught sight of a majestic rainbow spanning the heavens, its gorgeous colors glinting brightly in the sun, its arch perfect and unbroken from end to end.  But it was only a glimpse they had, for quickly they dove into another bank of clouds and the rainbow disappeared.

Here the clouds were not black, nor heavy, but they assumed queer shapes.  Some were like huge ships, some like forest trees, and others piled themselves into semblances of turreted castles and wonderful palaces.  The shapes shifted here and there continually, and the voyagers began to be bewildered by the phantoms.

“Seems to me we’re goin’ down,” called Trot.

“Down where?” asked Cap’n Bill.

“Who knows?” said Button-Bright.  “But we’re dropping, all right.”

It was a gradual descent.  The Magic Umbrella maintained a uniform speed, swift and unfaltering, but its path through the heavens was now in the shape of an arch, as a flying arrow falls.  The queer shapes of the clouds continued for some time, and once or twice Trot was a little frightened when a monstrous airy dragon passed beside them or a huge giant stood upon a peak of cloud and stared savagely at the intruders into his domain.  But none of these fanciful, vapory creatures seemed inclined to molest them or to interfere with their flight, and after a while the umbrella dipped below this queer cloudland and entered a clear space where the sky was of an exquisite blue color.

“Oh, look!” called Cap’n Bill.  “There’s land below us.”  The boy and girl leaned over and tried to see this land, but Cap’n Bill was also leaning over, and his big body hid all that was just underneath them.

“Is it an island?” asked Trot solemnly.

“Seems so,” the old sailor replied.  “The blue is around all one side of it an’ a pink sunshine around the other side.  There’s a big cloud just over the middle, but I guess it’s surely an island, Trot, an’ bein’ as it’s in the sky, it’s likely to be Sky Island.”