“We’re loose! We’re going up!” almost screamed Fenn.
Down below them the earth once more was dropping away at a fearful rate. The freshly-filled balloon was shooting skyward faster than ever before, since there was no restraining cable to hold it back.
The terror of their position held the boys dumb for a while. They gazed at each other with horror in their eyes. Their cheeks were pale, and their hearts were beating violently.
Being taken so suddenly into the lighter atmosphere of the upper regions almost deprived them of their senses. They could hardly breathe, partly because of natural causes and partly because of the terrible fright that gripped them.
“You—you—got—your—wish, Ned,” spoke Bart with some difficulty, looking at his chum.
“I—I—guess—I—did,” replied Ned slowly.
Their voices seemed to dispel the strain they were all under. They had been fearful of moving since the balloon broke away, thinking they might fall from the terrible height. But now Bart sat down in the bottom of the basket.
“Well, we might be worse off,” spoke Frank.
“How?” asked Fenn.
“We might be falling down instead of up. We’re in no danger for a while anyhow. There’s no wind to speak of. We’re going straight up.”