If it happens that this book reaches that family, opportunity is now taken to apologize to those young ladies for thus pouring sand down the backs of their necks.
Well, we sailed along grandly, soon leaving the city far behind—I forgot to say that just as we were leaving, a darkey in a white apron came through the crowd bringing us a hamper of good things. What an appetite this keen upper air gave us, to be sure! We ate and drank and toasted everything and everybody.
Pretty soon one of the boys said, (we were all newspaper men, and spoke of each other as “boys”):
“Listen a moment!”
And we all held our breaths. What supreme silence! the gentle sighing of the wind among the trees a mile below, the barking of dogs, or subdued shouts of excited villagers, was all we could hear—but hark!
We were approaching a small town. In the square, through the gathering twilight, we could discern a crowd, and now there came to us, refined by distance, the familiar notes, played by the village band, of “Up in a balloon, boys!”
We passed over the village, and the Professor pulled the valve cord gently, so we dropped towards the place and cheered in reply.
“Now let’s give them a song,” said the Professor.
