When the broom flew out of the tunnel in the mountain there were dark clouds in the sky. The bluejay was perched on Amy’s shoulder. It was more comfortable for her than the turned-up bristles of the broom.

Wispy was flying against the wind. The broom bounced up and down.

“Slow down, Wispy,” Jean said. “My stomach can’t stand this.”

The broom flew faster.

“There’s a storm coming,” Amy said. “If Wispy’s bristles get wet she won’t be able to fly.”

Far off there was the rumble of thunder.

Jean looked down. All she could see below were the tops of trees. She closed her eyes and tried not to feel the bouncing of the broom.

Amy was talking to the jay. “When we get home, Beryl,” she said, “I’ll have to hide you under my shirt to get you into the house. You can stay in my room.”

Jean opened her eyes. A long fork of lightning streaked from one cloud to another. An instant later there was a crash of thunder. “Look!” Jean pointed to the forest below. A huge tree had split in two.

Amy felt a drop of water on her arm. Then another. The broom began to fly more slowly.

Jean was thinking hard. “Wispy,” she said, “if you flew with your bristles down I could sit on them. My dress would keep the rain off.”

The broom stopped still in the air. The rain was splashing down. Wispy seemed to be thinking. Then she tipped up and down as if she were nodding.

“Hold still, Wispy,” Jean said. “Amy’s wearing jeans. We have to change places.”

The jay flew off Amy’s shoulder and fluttered over the broom. Jean grabbed Amy around the waist and swung around her. Amy slid along the broomstick. Jean landed on the bristles. She spread her dress over them.

Now Amy was facing Jean. If she didn’t want to ride backward she had to turn around.

“Hurry, Amy,” Jean said. “If Wispy points her stick up the bristles will be sure to stay covered. And I want to get home. My legs are getting scratched.”

Amy felt like a high-wire performer in a circus. She took a deep breath and swung one leg over the broomstick. Now she was sitting sideways. One more swing of her legs and she was in front of Jean again.

The bluejay flew down to perch on the end of the broomstick. She turned to look at Amy. Then she clapped her wings.

Jean clapped too.