“Let her go,” called the manager, and for the third time the boys saw the earth dropping away beneath them. They could not get over that first queer sinking feeling in the stomach as the balloon first started skyward, but, after it had gone up a few hundred feet they were used to it.
The day was a wonderfully clear one, and the boys could see for miles in every direction. Off to the northwest Lake Erie sparkled in the sunlight, and the Still river looked like a band of silver laid between green banks and through dark green forests.
“Isn’t it fine!” exclaimed Frank. “I wish we could stay up all night.”
“I guess we’re going down,” remarked Ned, as there came a tug at the bottom of the basket where the cable was fastened.
The balloon gave a little jerk and swayed from side to side. The boys clutched the edge of the basket and looked over.
“Something has happened!” cried Ned.
They could see the crowd running to and fro and a number of men signaling to them with their hands.
“What could have happened?” asked Frank. “Is the balloon on fire?”
“No! It’s broken loose!” yelled Fenn. “See! The cable is dangling below us!”
Leaning over as far as they dared, the others saw that the wire rope had become loosened from the drum and was swaying about in the air. It had become unfastened when the machinery began to revolve to haul the balloon down.