"I'm going down after him!" cried James, grabbing the silk string as it started coming out of the Silkworm and tying the end of it around his waist. "The rest of you hold onto Silkworm so I don't pull her over with me, and later on, if you feel three tugs on the string, start hauling me up again!"

He jumped, and he went tumbling down after the Centipede, down, down, down, toward the sea below, and you can imagine how quickly the Silkworm had to spin to keep up with the speed of his fall.

"We'll never see either of them again!" cried the Ladybug. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Just when we were all so happy, too!"

Miss Spider, the Glow-worm, and the Ladybug all began to cry. So did the Earthworm. "I don't care a bit about the Centipede," the Earthworm sobbed. "But I really did love that little boy."

Very softly, the Old-Green-Grasshopper started to play the Funeral March on his violin, and by the time he had finished, everyone, including himself, was in a flood of tears.

Suddenly, there came three sharp tugs on the rope. "Pull!" shouted the Old-Green-Grasshopper.

"Everyone get behind me and pull!"

There was about a mile of string to be hauled in, but they all worked like mad, and in the end, over the side of the peach, there appeared a dripping-wet James with a dripping-wet Centipede clinging to him tightly with all forty-two of his legs.

"He saved me!" gasped the Centipede. "He swam around in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean until he found me!"

"My dear boy," the Old-Green-Grasshopper said, patting James on the back. "I do congratulate you."

"My boots!" cried the Centipede. "Just look at my precious boots! They are ruined by the water!"

"Be quiet!" the Earthworm said. "You are lucky to be alive."

"Are we still going up and up?" asked James.

"We certainly are," answered the Old-Green-Grasshopper. "And it's beginning to get dark."

"I know. It'll soon be night."

"Why don't we all go down below and keep warm until tomorrow morning?" Miss Spider suggested.

"No," the Old-Green-Grasshopper said. "I think that would be very unwise. It will be safer if we all stay up here through the night and keep watch. Then, if anything happens, we shall anyway be ready for it."

James Henry Trotter and his companions crouched close together on top of the peach as the night began closing in around them. Clouds like mountains towered high above their heads on all sides, mysterious, menacing, overwhelming. Gradually it grew darker and darker, and then a pale three-quarter moon came up over the tops of the clouds and cast an eerie light over the whole scene. The giant peach swayed gently from side to side as it floated along, and the hundreds of silky white strings going upward from its stem were beautiful in the moonlight. So also was the great flock of seagulls overhead.

There was not a sound anywhere. Traveling upon the peach was not in the least like traveling in an airplane. The airplane comes clattering and roaring through the sky, and whatever might be lurking secretly up there in the great cloud-mountains goes running for cover at its approach. That is why people who travel in airplanes never see anything.

But the peach. . . ah, yes. . . the peach was a soft, stealthy traveler, making no noise at all as it floated along. And several times during that long silent night ride high up over the middle of the ocean in the moonlight, James and his friends saw things that no one had ever seen before. Once, as they drifted silently past a massive white cloud, they saw on the top of it a group of strange, tall, wispy-looking things that were about twice the height of ordinary men. They were not easy to see at first because they were almost as white as the cloud itself, but as the peach sailed closer, it became obvious that these "things" were actually living creatures -- tall, wispy, wraithlike, shadowy, white creatures who looked as though they were made out of a mixture of cotton-wool and candyfloss and thin white hairs.

"Oooooooooooooh!" the Ladybug said. "I don't like this at all!"

"Ssshh!" James whispered back. "Don't let them hear you! They must be Cloud-Men!"

"Cloud-Men!" they murmured, huddling closer together for comfort. "Oh dear, oh dear!"

"I'm glad I'm blind and can't see them," the Earthworm said, "or I would probably scream."

"I hope they don't turn around and see us," Miss Spider stammered.

"Do you think they would eat us?" the Earthworm asked.

"They would eat you," the Centipede answered, grinning. "They would cut you up like a salami and eat you in thin slices."

The poor Earthworm began to quiver all over with fright.

"But what are they doing?" the Old-Green-Grasshopper whispered.

"I don't know," James answered softly. "Let's watch and see."

The Cloud-Men were all standing in a group, and they were doing something peculiar with their hands. First, they would reach out (all of them at once) and grab handfuls of cloud. Then they would roll these handfuls of cloud in their fingers until they turned into what looked like large white marbles.

Then they would toss the marbles to one side and quickly grab more bits of cloud and start over again.

It was all very silent and mysterious. The pile of marbles beside them kept growing larger and larger. Soon there was a truckload of them there at least.

"They must be absolutely mad!" the Centipede said. "There's nothing to be afraid of here!"

"Be quiet, you pest!" the Earthworm whispered. "We shall all be eaten if they see us!"

But the Cloud-Men were much too busy with what they were doing to have noticed the great peach floating silently up behind them.

Then the watchers on the peach saw one of the Cloud-Men raising his long wispy arms above his head and they heard him shouting, "All right, boys! That's enough! Get the shovels!" And all the other Cloud-Men immediately let out a strange high-pitched whoop of joy and started jumping up and down and waving their arms in the air. Then they picked up enormous shovels and rushed over to the pile of marbles and began shoveling them as fast as they could over the side of the cloud, into space. "Down they go!" they chanted as they worked.

"Down they go!

Hail and snow!

Freezes and sneezes and noses will blow!"

"It's hailstones! " whispered James excitedly. "They've been making hailstones and now they are showering them down onto the people in the world below!"

"Hailstones?" the Centipede said. "That's ridiculous! This is summertime. You don't have hailstones in summertime."

"They are practicing for the winter," James told him.

"I don't believe it!" shouted the Centipede, raising his voice.

"Ssshh!" the others whispered. And James said softly, "For heaven's sake, Centipede, don't make so much noise."

The Centipede roared with laughter. "Those imbeciles couldn't hear anything!" he cried. "They're deaf as doorknobs! You watch!" And before anyone could stop him, he had cupped his front feet to his mouth and was yelling at the Cloud-Men as loud as he could. "Idiots!" he yelled. "Nincompoops! Half-wits! Blunderheads! Asses! What on earth do you think you're doing over there!"