Then the two talked of exploits that they had achieved; adventures that had befallen them; and perils through which they had passed. Henry said that he had had the mumps, the measles, and the small-pox; Will said he had had the sore throat, the chicken-pox, seven boils, lots and lots of warts, and the measles, too. Henry said a circus horse once kicked him hard, and a circus monkey once stole his handkerchief; Will said he once shot a cat with his father’s gun, and it fled away and lived all winter with the bullet in its heart. Henry said that was nothing; he once shot a deer, and if somebody else hadn’t come along and killed it, he believed his ball would have killed it. Will said he could beat that, for he was nearly drowned once. Then Henry said he one day drank so much water that he nearly died; and the next day those smart boys that he had spoken of set him on fire, and scorched his coat till he couldn’t recognize it.
Then they talked of other things, and Will told his cousin all about his school-fellows. Then Henry again referred to the demon and his wickedness.
Judging by the performances of the last few hours, Henry would be a strange companion to visit the Demon’s Cave with, at night, and armed with loaded pistols, “ready,” as he phrased it, “to defend themselves in case of danger.”
It was morning. The cousins were standing in the commons. A crowd of people was assembled. In the centre of the inclosure a colossal balloon (do not smile, gentle reader) towered up into the air. Its manager, Prof. Ranteleau, was haranguing the people. In a few minutes he would ascend in his balloon—who wished to accompany him? He was an adept in the science of aëronautics, and would insure every one a safe, novel, and delightful voyage through the aërial regions. When they had sailed among the clouds to their satisfaction, he would return and descend on the common.
A few people said “good-bye” to their friends, and climbed into the car. The cousins did likewise. The fastenings were cast loose; the professor seated himself with a complacent smile; and with a great lurch the balloon began to ascend.
The people began to make poetical remarks upon the “sublimity,” the “immensity,” the “profundity” of the scene, before the car was fifty feet above the ground.
Will and Henry sat still and looked on; for to their untutored minds the scene did yet seem particularly sublime.
But the balloon rapidly gained in speed, and soon whirled its occupants along at an astonishing rate. Things below became more and more indistinct, and were gradually lost to view. Then the balloonists felt in their pockets for sundry barometers and thermometers; buttoned their over-coats up to their ears; and prepared to enjoy themselves.