“But you can’t get them to do that,” Billy said.

And the answer’s obvious.  They can’t walk.  You see how tiny, and useless-looking their feet are.  They’re no good to them, because they’ve never used them.  It never occurs to them apparently even to try to walk.”

“Well, who would walk if he could fly?” demanded Pete pugnaciously.

“Well said, son,” agreed Ralph, “but what are we going to do about it?”

“I’ll tell you what we can do about it,” said Frank quietly, “if you’ll listen to me.”  The others turned to him.  Their faces expressed varying emotions — surprise, doubt, incredulity, a great deal of amusement.  But they waited courteously.

“The trouble has been heretofore,” Frank went on in his best academic manner, “that you’ve gone at this problem in too obvious a way.  You’ve appealed to only one motive — acquisitiveness.  There’s a stronger one than that — curiosity.”

The look of politely veiled amusement on the four faces began to give way to credulity.  “But how, Frank?” asked Billy.

“I’ll show you how,” said Frank.  “I’ve been thinking it out by myself for over a week now.”

There was an air of quiet certainty about Frank.  His companions looked furtively at each other.  The credulity in their faces changed to interest.  “Go on, Frank,” Billy said.  They listened closely to his disquisition.

“What ever gave you the idea, Frank?” Billy asked at the end.

“The fact that I found a Yale spring-lock the other day,” Frank answered quietly.

The next morning, the men arose at sunrise and went at once to work.  They worked together on the big cabin — the Clubhouse — and they dug and hammered without intermission all day long.  Halfway through the morning, the girls came flying in a group to the beach.  The men paid no attention to them.  Many times their visitors flew up and down the length of the crescent of white, sparkling sand, each time dropping lower, obviously examining it for loot.  Finding none, they flew in a body over the roof of the Clubhouse, each face turned disdainfully away.  The men took no notice even of this.  The girls gathered together in a quiet group and obviously discussed the situation.  After a little parley, they flew off.  Later in the afternoon came Lulu alone.  She hovered at Honey’s shoulder, displaying all her little tricks of graceful flying; but Honey was obdurate.  Apparently he did not see her.  Came Chiquita, floating lazily back and forth over Frank’s head like a monstrous, deeply colored tropical bloom borne toward him on a breeze.  She swam down close, floated softly, but Frank did not even look in her direction.  Came Peachy with such marvels of flying, such diving and soaring, such gyrating and flashing, that it took superhuman self-control not to drop everything and stare.  But nobody looked or paused.  Came Clara, posturing almost at their elbows.  Came all save Julia, but the men ignored them equally.