“Yes.” I glanced out at the balloon canopy. “Great Scott, Hawkins, the balloon's leaking!”
“Eh? What?” he cried, suddenly galvanized into action. “Where, Griggs, where?”
“I don't know. But that's what is happening. See how the wires are sagging—more and more every second.”
“Great Cesar's ghost! Listen. Yes, the wires must have hit the escape valve. Why, the gas is simply pouring out of the balloon. And the machine's getting heavier and heavier. And we're just resting on those six wires, Griggs! Oh, Lord!”
“And presently, Hawkins, we shall break the wires and drop?” I suggested, with forced calm.
“Yes, yes!” cried the inventor. “What'll we do, Griggs, what'll we do?”
Frightened as I was, I couldn't see what was to be gained by hysterics.
“I presume,” I said, “that the best thing is to sit still and wait for the end.”
“Yes, but think, man, think of that awful drop! Forty feet, if it's an inch!”
“Fully.”