h a rotten strand. It was a second of
dreadful suspense. Madly he grasped the rope sides of the ladder. His left
hand slipped, but his right held firm. There, for a fraction of time that
seemed an eternity, supported by only one hand, he hung out over thousands
of feet of airy space.

His left hand groped for the ropes which eluded his grasp. He gripped and
missed, gripped and missed. Then he caught it and held on. He was holding
firmly now with both hands. But how his arms ached! With his feet he began
kicking for the ladder, which, swinging and bagging in the wind, seemed as
elusive as a cobweb. At last, when strength was leaving him, he doubled up
his knees and struck out with both feet. They fell upon something and
stuck there. They had found a round of the ladder. Hugging the ropes, he
panted for breath, then slowly worked himself to a more natural position.

"Huh!" he breathed at last. "Huh! Gee! That makes a fellow dizzy!"

He had climbed ten steps further when a cry of joy escaped his lips:

"The valve-cord!"

It was true. By his side dangled a small rope which reached to the
balloon.

Gripping this he gave it a quick pull and was rewarded at once by the hiss
of escaping gas.

"Good!" he muttered to himself, as he prepared for his downward climb.
"Trust an Oriental to make things hard. Suppose they thought if they had
it any closer to the car the children might raise the dickens by playing
with it."

He swung there relaxed. They were dropping. He could tell that plainly
enough. Now he could distinguish little lines of hills, now catch the
course of a river, now detect the rows of brown willows that lined its
banks.

He looked for the gleam of the City of Gold. There was none. The sun had
evidently climbed too high for that.

His eyes roamed to the north. Then his lips uttered a cry:

"The ocean! We can't escape it!"

CHAPTER XII

THE RUSSIAN DAGGER

Johnny Thompson, with his interpreter by his side, found himself in the
camp of the Mongols. It was a vast tented city, a moving city of traders.
Down its snow-trod streets drifted yellow people of all descriptions. Men,
women and children moved past him. Some were young, some very old. All
appeared crafty and capable of treachery.

"It was against these people that the Chinese built their great wall,"
said Johnny thoughtfully. "I don't wonder."

"When do we see his highness, the great high chief who deals in cattle?"

His interpreter sm