“Well, there’s no good in worrying,” decided Mr. Keene. “Maybe the boys can take care of themselves, but they’re in a ticklish place.”
His words served to comfort the others somewhat, though Mrs. Keene and Mrs. Masterson could not stop crying.
Meanwhile there was nothing the boys could do. They could only wait for something to happen. And that something was for the gas to leave the bag gradually so they could descend.
“It’s almost five o’clock,” said Bart, looking at his watch. “I guess we’re good for all night.”
“It’s going to be cold,” said Ned, with a shiver.
Already the mist was beginning to tell on the boys. Their clothes were covered with the fine fog which clung to them like frost. They knew it would be quite chilly before morning.
“And not a thing to eat,” said Bart with a sigh. “The next time I come ballooning I’m going to bring a sandwich.”
“The next time I come ballooning I’ll be a great deal older than I am now,” came from Frank. “No more for yours truly.”
“What I can’t understand,” said Fenn, “is what become of those cords. They must be on the balloon. I saw them the first day.”
“Suppose we take another look,” suggested Ned. “I don’t fancy staying here all night.”