TITLE PAGE     GERMAN    

Just as our hungry friends fell upon the food, so too did the sensation-hungry crowd passing the time in fashionable boredom in Atlanic City descend upon the car as if it were a modern marvel straight out of a contemporary Arabian Nights. A plane had landed over on Hoowround Place. It had come in from the wrong direction and without awaiting permission; two figures in flying gear jumped out, but nobody took any notice. After a while Frank and Florian looked up from the table where they had been so busily engaged, and they heard one voice stand out clearly from the general tumult around their car. The two feasters looked at each other in astonishment. Was that not the voice of the fat tramp from Chicago, the down-and-out millionaire, Mr. Sam Brankwyn? - Yes! So it was! Frank and Florian's jaws stopped chewing as they heard: "How does a sensation arise? How does an ordinary event become an extraordinary one? We will show you, ladies and gentlemen, but not in mere plaster or wax, not merely on the stage amid dark scenery or backdrops, not in a cartoon, but in real life by the light of the billions of candles which the sunshine provides!" Suddenly you could hear from all sides: "Police! The Chicago mounted patrol!" Police! Frank and Florian knew what havoc they had wreaked on the Cleveland route. They leaped up, pushed everything aside and threw themselves headlong into their car. Without realising where he was going, Frank got on to an interminably long pier which protruded far out into the sea. When it came to an end, the two fugitives found themselves surrounded on three sides by the high seas. To add to their misfortunes, a front tyre burst. A suitable patch was quickly applied, and Frank began to pump vigorously. Somebody was approaching on the pier. Frank pumped like mad. The somebody was suddenly standing in front of him. Frank stared at the face framed by a yellow pilot's helmet. It was none other than Mr. Sam Brankwyn. In his bewilderment, Frank failed to notice that the rubber tyre was rising like yeast under the pressure of his pump: he could now hardly see over it. But what was this? The front tyre on the opposite side had also increased in size - so Mr. Brankwyn was pumping, too. Now it dawned on Frank. Once all four tyres had reached the same balloon-like size, the car was ready to sail on its circular air cushions! Frank now steered the hovercraft into the water. It was high time - uniformed policemen were already rattling along the pier on their motorbikes. But Frank and Florian were by now out of reach of their pursuers. They were pitching and tossing out on the open sea in their splendid vehicle and were soon no longer to be seen on the glittering waves. Frank and Florian had never felt their hearts beat so quickly for excitement as out here in the liberating air on the water. Everything they had experienced lay behind them in a dark cloud. They both looked back once more towards Atlantic City. "Florian," said Frank suddenly, "it really is a pity that the fat tramp, our millionaire, isn't with us!" He had hardly finished when Mr. Sam Brankwyn's voice resounded like a roaring wind across the sea: "Sailor, ahoi!"

 THAT'S SUCCESS!    SECTION SIX