“Guess that’s right,” said the other man in the wagon. “I am sorry for you.”
“So am I sorry,” said the first man who had spoken. “Where is the balloon?”
“About half a mile back on the road.”
“Thanks; we’ll get it.”
“Whose balloon is it?” asked Jack, curiously.
“It belongs to Professor Aireo,” was the answer. “He made an ascension about an hour ago at Menville and came down with his parachute. I hope the balloon is all right.”
“It appeared to be,” answered Jack, and then the two men drove off and the battalion proceeded on its way.
The road was rather rough, and two hours later the cadets came to another halt. A farm-house was handy and they procured a drink at a fine old well where the water was both pure and cold. The farmer, who was present, told them to help themselves, and as he had a crate of strawberries ready to take to market, the captain purchased them and took them along, for use at the camp.
It was nightfall when Smalley Lake was reached. Some large flatboats were at hand, and on these the boys were rowed over to the island, and the camping outfit followed, the wagons and horses being left at a farm running down to the lake.
“What a fine spot for a camp!” cried Dale, on reaching the island.