THE RED BALLOON
“Catch him! Save him!” cried Bob.
Ned did not cry out, but he made a convulsive spring for the professor,
just as he was disappearing.
Now, Nature had blessed the scientist with a pair of long legs, though
she had made his body very short. Consequently, though his body was
entirely out of the window, and his head was hanging down toward the
earth, his feet had not yet passed over the sill. This Ned saw, and he
took advantage of it like a flash.
He grabbed the professor’s ankles with all his strength and threw
himself backward to counteract the effect of the pull caused by the
involuntary tumble of the little man.
“Grab me, Bob!” cried Ned, and his chum had presence of mind enough to
do as he was told without stopping to ask why.
The result was that the professor was caught just in time, and the
grips of the two sturdy youths prevented him from falling. But they
could not pull him in, as his loose trousers had caught on the sill.
All they could do was to hold him there while Jerry, all unconscious of
what had happened, was in the steering tower, sending the ship ahead at
great speed.
“Help!” cried Bob.
The professor had uttered no sound. Probably he was too frightened.
Mr. Glassford heard the cry, and rushed from the sleeping-cabin, half
dressed. He saw what had happened, and adding his strength to that of
the boys, the poor professor was soon pulled inside the cabin. His face
was red, for much blood had run to his head, but otherwise he was calm
and collected.
“Look out for the handle of my net,” he said as he stood in the cabin
and began to haul in his apparatus for catching specimens.
“What, didn’t you drop your net?” asked Ned in great astonishment.
“And lose that valuable bird?” inquired the professor. “I guess not. I
caught it, all right, and have it safe in the net. Here it is.”
He continued to pull the net in, and a moment later showed to his
audience a curious bird, with brilliant plumage. The little creature
was entangled in the meshes of the net, but the scientist carefully
disentangled it, and placed the bird in a small cage.
“That will be a most valuable addition to my collection,” he said. “It
is worth all this trip has cost me.”
“But, my dear sir, you might have met a horrible death!” exclaimed Mr.
Glassford.
“I didn’t, though,” retorted the professor with a calm smile. “‘A miss
is as good as a mile,’ you know.”
“Don’t take any more misses like that,” urged the inventor.
“I probably won’t see any more birds like this one,” was what the
scientist replied.
Breakfast was served at a mile and a quarter above the earth, Mr.
Glassford having decided to go higher in search of a different current
that would carry the _Comet_ in a more southerly direction. The upper
regions, however, did not seem to furnish what he wanted, and after
sailing along for several miles he decided to drop back toward the
earth again. Accordingly, the depression rudder was set, and the
pointed nose of the motor ship was aimed at _terra firma_.
They ran into a bank of white, fleecy clouds, and for a time nothing
could be seen but them, for the travelers were enveloped as in a dense
fog. Then they dropped through that, and saw spread out below them a
big open stretch of country.
But something else was also below them. The three boys, who were in the
cabin, all saw it at once, and their cry attracted the attention of Mr.
Glassford.
“The red balloon!” cried Jerry. “It’s the red balloon from Park Haven!
It’s ahead of us! Let’s race it, Mr. Glassford.”
The inventor was not at all unwilling to try conclusions with his
rival, especially since a whole day had passed and the red airship was
still ahead. It was time for the _Comet_ to show what she could do.
The ship was sent down until it was about on a level with the red
balloon. Then Mr. Glassford speeded up the motor to overtake his rival,
that was over a mile ahead.
The boys took turns watching it through the telescope, and they could
note that the four men on the red craft were also observing them
through glasses.
“Do you think we can beat them?” asked Bob anxiously.
“We’ve got to,” replied Jerry. “Leave it to Mr. Glassford.”
The inventor soon sent for Jerry to aid him in the steering tower, and
the two were kept busy manipulating the wheels and levers.
“I think I’ll go up a trifle,” announced Mr. Glassford, when at the end
of half an hour of speeding they had gained little if anything on the
red machine. “There is a slight contrary wind at this level.”
Once more the motor craft ascended. The wisdom of this was at once
apparent. Aided by a stiff breeze, blowing in the same direction as
that in which the _Comet_ was sailing, she rapidly began to overhaul
the red balloon. But the pilot of that was evidently an old hand at
the game. He too sent his craft up until it was on a level with the
_Comet_. But the latter maintained her advantage, and even increased
it, until, that afternoon, the red balloon was only a quarter of a mile
ahead.
“Can we beat them?” asked Jerry anxiously.
Mr. Glassford nodded.
“I haven’t run the motor to the limit yet,” he said, “and I fancy they
have. I’ll pass them at dusk.”
Mr. Glassford made good his boast. All that afternoon he was slowly
creeping up on the red balloon, though the crew of it made strenuous
efforts to increase their lead. The inventor of the _Comet_ did not
want to speed his motor too much during the heat of the day, as it was
air-cooled, and had no water jacket. But as soon as the sun began to
decline and it became cooler, he opened it up, and with an increase in
the explosions that made it seem as if the _Comet_ was saluting her
rival, the motor ship passed the red airship, being several hundred
feet above her in the air.
As the motor boys and their friends passed they heard a faint cheer
from those below them. They sent back an answering one and continued on.
“Now there’s nothing to stop us from winning the race,” declared Ned.
“Only the fact that there might still be another airship ahead of us,”
said Mr. Glassford. “There is no telling about that. One of the other
contestants may have outstripped the red balloon.”
The boys had to admit that this might be so, but in their hearts they
hoped that it was not the case. For they did want the honor of winning
at least one prize, while Bob made no secret of his desire to see both
captured.
As night settled down, with the _Comet_ some distance ahead of her
nearest rival, there sprang up a stiff wind.
“That’s not what we want,” observed Mr. Glassford with a dubious shake
of his head.
“Why?” asked Ned.
“Because it’s forcing us to the west again. I don’t see how we can
reach New Orleans at this rate.”
On and on they sped, over mountains and valleys--on and on through the
silent night. Ned, Bob and Jerry took turns in the steering tower,
so Mr. Glassford could get some rest. On and on rushed the big motor
ship, her propellers ceaselessly revolving, and pulling her farther
and farther on her course. Only the wind was still contrary, and was
forcing them too much to the west.
It was just getting daylight when Jerry awoke with a start. There was a
peculiar odor in the air about them. He sniffed vigorously for a second
or two, and then leaping from his berth he aroused Mr. Glassford.
“I think something has happened,” he said as quietly as he could. “It
smells as if the gas was escaping.”
“It is!” cried the inventor, as he noticed the peculiar odor. “There is
a leak in the gas bag. We must stop it. I hope it is not a large one.”