But even as he spoke the Sky-Bird seemed to recover her balance. Making a pretty circle, away she sped on her course, neither rising nor falling.  Like a real bird she sailed onward, the noise of her whirring propeller now lost to her fliers, but her little pale-yellow silk wings against the blue sky plainly tracing her course for them.  Paul was running after her now as fast as his legs could carry him.  What if she should keep right on and go over the far fence?--he might lose the little darling!