rcoat and gloves Butteridge had discarded--put them over the "Desert
Dervish" sheet that covered his cheap best suit--and sat very still for
a long, time, overawed by the new-found quiet of the world. Above him
was the light, translucent, billowing globe of shining brown oiled silk
and the blazing sunlight and the great deep blue dome of the sky.

Below, far below, was a torn floor of sunlit cloud slashed by enormous
rents through which he saw the sea.

If you had been watching him from below, you would have seen his head, a
motionless little black knob, sticking out from the car first of all for
a long time on one side, and then vanishing to reappear after a time at
some other point.

He wasn't in the least degree uncomfortable nor afraid. He did think
that as this uncontrollable thing had thus rushed up the sky with him it
might presently rush down again, but this consideration did not trouble
him very much. Essentially his state was wonder. There is no fear nor
trouble in balloons--until they descend.

"Gollys!" he said at last, feeling a need for talking; "it's better than
a motor-bike."

"It's all right!"

"I suppose they're telegraphing about, about me."...

The second hour found him examining the equipment of the car with great
particularity. Above him was the throat of the balloon bunched and tied
together, but with an open lumen through which Bert could peer up into
a vast, empty, quiet interior, and out of which descended two fine cords
of unknown import, one white, one crimson, to pockets below the ring.
The netting about the balloon-ended in cords attached to the ring, a big
steel-bound hoop to which the car was slung by ropes. From it depended
the trail rope and grapnel, and over the sides of the car were a number
of canvas bags that Bert decided must be ballast to "chuck down" if the
balloon fell. ("Not much falling just yet," said Bert.)

There were an aneroid and another box-shaped instrument hanging from the
ring. The latter had an ivory plate bearing "statoscope" and other words
in French, and a little indicator quivered and waggled, between Montee
and Descente. "That's all right," said Bert. "That tells if you're
going up or down." On the crimson padded seat of the balloon there lay a
couple of rugs and a Kodak, and in opposite corners of the bottom of
the car were an empty champagne bottle and a glass. "Refreshments," said
Bert meditatively, tilting the empty bottle. Then he had a brilliant