"The colonel came with a cheerful face when all was ready," continued the doctor. "But not every one looked equally cheerful when noticing the state of the balloon.
"'There are cracks in the cloth,' observed a friend, gazing upwards at the great ball, which, inflated with gas, was kept down by ropes, till the colonel should get into the car.'
"'No matter!' cried the colonel. 'That is nothing! I have mounted in a balloon with holes in it as big as my head.'
"Bright and bold, he stepped into the car and sat down. At a given signal the men who held the ropes let go their hold. Up shot the balloon like a bird! It rises one—two—three hundred feet above the heads of the people, who gaze with eager upturned eyes. But soon, ah, too soon, the shouts of joy which had burst from the crowd, suddenly change to the silence of horror. The balloon bursts in the air; down, down it comes as fast as it rose, straight into a piece of water below! Like a huge sheet, the torn cloth lies on the tank, the unfortunate colonel beneath it!
"Can no one save him? Can no one help him? Many rush to the sahib's aid, and plunge into the tank; but how are they to find the colonel under those hundreds of yards of wet floating cloth! They try to lift the heavy mass; they tear it here; they drag it there; every minute seems long as an hour, every minute lessens the chance of finding the colonel alive! At last there's a cry, 'He's found!' And shortly afterwards something that—not a half-hour before—was a brave, strong man, is dragged from under the wide spread of cloth! Alas! The bold heart has ceased to beat! The unhappy colonel has perished!"
"And why did he perish?" cried the bunniah, who had taken his hookah out of his mouth. "Was it not because he had trusted himself to a balloon of flimsy cloth that had holes, through which the gas could escape!"
"Now, to my mind that poor colonel's death preaches a lesson to us," observed Isa Dás. "There are some who make as sure of going to happiness when they die as the colonel sahib did of rising into the clouds. Now, I like to ask my conscience,—is my hope a sure one, or is it rather like the cracked balloon?"
"I do not trouble myself with such thoughts," observed the bunniah. "I perform my religious duties, I make offerings, I feast the Brahmins,—I have nothing to fear." And, like an easygoing man of the world as he was, he resumed his hookah.
"But, my friend, do you never tell a lie, not even to make a good bargain?" asked Isa Dás.
Those around laughed, for the character of the bunniah was like that of most of his class; only the doctor was grave.