The plane had to be an exceedingly large one to accommodate Snythergen’s great length. With much squirming he managed to get out of his tree suit, and now he lay face down, his feet hanging out over the tail. In this position his hands came just right for the controls. Sancho Wing’s compartment was next to Snythergen’s ear and Squeaky occupied a basket on the opposite side. Sancho would have liked going back a little way for a last look at the bear, just to make sure they had left him on the ground but the wind created by their great speed was too strong for a finch to fly in, and the little bird would have been blown away had he ventured out. For some strange reason the nose of the plane kept pointing up in spite of Snythergen’s efforts to keep the machine horizontal.

“Either there is something wrong with the steering gear,” said Snythergen, “or there is some unusual weight behind that keeps heading the bow up by pulling the tail down. I can’t point her below that big star—the one that looks like a flaming doughnut.”

“You will have to keep her on the star then,” said Sancho, “for if anything is riding under the tail it isn’t safe for any of us to go back to see what it is.”

All night long Snythergen steered toward the blazing doughnut, which grew bigger and bigger, they were approaching it so rapidly.

“It must be some new planet floating very near the earth. Maybe we can land on it to-morrow,” said Snythergen to Squeaky, but the pig did not answer, nor even look up. He was rolled up in a tight ball, his head under his body, fast asleep.

By daylight the star seemed very near, but it no longer sparkled. Now it resembled a huge Christmas wreath, tied with a gorgeous bow of red silk ribbon which hung down in vast folds. Snythergen steered for the center of the hole, then turning and mounting to the top he made a landing along the shady side of a grove of pines. The jolt when they struck the ground wakened Squeaky, and glancing around he thought he saw a prowling shadow alight from the rear of the plane and disappear into the woods. The others looked but saw nothing.

“It looked like a bear,” said Squeaky with a shudder.

“Nonsense, you’ve got bear on the brain,” said Snythergen.

Near where they had landed an enormous boy was playing marbles with bowling balls. He was nearly as tall as Snythergen and heavier.

“Hooray! There’s some one I can talk to without bending down to the ground,” cried Snythergen joyfully. “I can play with him without being afraid of stepping on him.” And he strolled up to watch him play marbles while Sancho Wing and Squeaky remained at a safe distance, a little awed by the bigness of two such giant boys.

“Want to play?” asked the boy, whose name was Blasterjinx.

“Yes,” said Snythergen, and the two shot the big ten pin balls about as if they were peas.

“Let’s spin tops,” said Blasterjinx after Snythergen had won most of his marbles and paid back what he had borrowed.

“This is a hummer,” said the boy, taking a colored top from under his blouse and winding it with a string as thick as a clothes-line. He hurled it through the air and it landed upright on its point, spinning so rapidly it seemed standing still, and as it spun it sang.

Interested in the big top, Sancho Wing and Squeaky edged closer and closer.

“Why, it sounds like canary birds!” cried Snythergen delighted.

“It ought to!” said Blasterjinx.

“Why?”

Taking the top in his hand Blasterjinx unscrewed the upper part. “See,” said he. Snythergen looked inside, and beheld a flock of canaries singing and flying about.

“This is the only kind of a humming-top to have,” said Blasterjinx. “For you can change the music any time you want to. I’ve tried violinists, pianists, story-tellers, singers, harpists—almost everything you can think of, but I like canaries best. Wouldn’t your friends here like to take a spin?” he asked, pointing to Squeaky and Sancho Wing.

It happened to be just what they wanted most, so Blasterjinx opened a trap door in the floor of the room inside the top, and shooed the canaries downstairs into the top basement, telling them to remain silent. Then Squeaky and Sancho Wing descended a silver ladder into the huge top, and the cover was screwed on. They found themselves in a pleasant circular room, dimly lighted by stained glass windows and ventilated by air holes. The objects in the room, piano, chairs, pictures, all were fastened securely to hold their positions when the top wobbled or fell to its side. A brass railing attached to the wall ran all the way around, to give the passengers something to hold to.

“Hold on tight now,” said Blasterjinx, and winding the top carefully he hurled it through the air. It lighted on its point, spinning at terrific speed. Through one of the ventilating holes Squeaky watched the topsy turvey landscape dance giddily about, until it made him dizzy and soon he became ill from it. Sancho Wing was too busy keeping his balance and holding on, to pay any attention to how Squeaky was getting along.

“Stop the top, stop the top!” bellowed Squeaky.

“What’s the matter?” cried Snythergen.

“He’ll be all right in a minute,” said Blasterjinx, taking the top in his hand and winding the string the other way around. When he threw it again it spun in the opposite direction, unwinding Squeaky and as Blasterjinx had said, he was all right in a minute. But he was glad when the top stopped and he could get out.

Snythergen was having such a good time that he forgot why they had come until Sancho Wing flew up to his ear and whispered: “Ask him if there are any bears on the Wreath.”

“I never heard of any,” said Blasterjinx, when the question had been repeated to him. “I am sure you will like the Wreath,” he went on, “for a good friend of yours lives not far from here.”

“How can you know he is a friend of ours?” asked Sancho Wing in surprise. “You do not know who our friends are!”

“I know this man is your friend just the same, but I am not going to tell you who he is because I want it to be a surprise.”

“Have I ever seen him?” said Squeaky.

“I don’t think so,” said Blasterjinx, “but I am sure he has been in Snythergen’s house.”

“Where does he live?” asked Snythergen.

“In a very big house about a mile from here. You can visit him later on, but first I want you to spend a week with me and see some of the sights on the Wreath. Your friend overworked himself last Christmas and needs another week of rest.”

It made Snythergen homesick to go to Blasterjinx’ house and meet his parents, for they were small like his own father and mother and their house was not very large either, except Blasterjinx’ room which was a separate building covering most of the yard. Blasterjinx’ mother was a kind soul and made her visitors feel very much at home with the aid of doughnuts, cookies and pies. Somehow this made Snythergen feel better, although his mother and father were always in his thoughts.

The three friends told Blasterjinx about their adventures, and he became so interested he wanted to play tree at once. He tried on Snythergen’s suit of green but it was not big enough in the waist for him, and when he squeezed into it the bark began to rip.

“You will tear it,” cried Blasterjinx’ mother, “and then Snythergen won’t be able to wear it—for I am sure I don’t know how to mend torn bark. I might sew it with a pine needle, but I wouldn’t know what to use for thread.”

“Let’s make Blasterjinx a suit for himself,” cried Sancho Wing; and delighted with the idea they set to work. Blasterjinx was just the right build for a sturdy oak, and they fastened acorns all over his suit, and made his bark gnarly and his branches twisty. They tried to teach him the habits of an oak, but he did not learn readily. For being a tree did not come natural to him as it did to Snythergen. He was too restless to stand still very long.

“He’ll never make the birds think he is real,” whispered Sancho Wing to Squeaky.

“Perhaps it is just as well,” replied Squeaky, looking at Sancho Wing out of the corners of his little eyes, “for then he won’t be bothered with any goldfinch nests tickling his branches!”

They were having such fun the week was up in no time and yet they had done no sight-seeing. With many warm farewells and promises to return soon, the three companions left to call on their unknown friend.