Godlike he was riding the air--and it was as though he had done it always.
He frowned.

The earth, that had flattened to a gray smoothness, roughened again, neared him swiftly.

Ahead was a bare, yellow patch--they were pointed toward it at a slackened speed.

They were just over it--the wheels touched, ran for ten feet or so, bounced away and returned again.
They were circling slowly, just skimming the surface of the ground.

They slowed and stopped, the plane quivering like a scared horse.
"Fine!" Bland shouted above the eased thrum of the motor.