Not to miss anything on the fair grounds kept a boy and dog hustling, although they went every day—which they didn’t. Still, by virtue of the addition to his funds of that fifty cents fish money, Ned managed to go oftener than in any previous year.
Most fascinating was the balloon ascension. All through the morning the balloon lay, a mass of inert, dirty, rubbery cloth, on the ground at the spot whence the ascent was to be made. It always was surrounded by curious people, who looked upon it with awe, but who were kept from fingering it by a rope staked about it.
A little after twelve the program of filling it with gas began. Slowly the dull heap inflated, until no longer was it inert; it swayed and struggled, instinct with life.
The aeronaut, arrayed in tights of pink, with a spangled sash about his waist, came out from a little tent, and while all eyes scanned him admiringly, inspected the progress of the work. He was a slender, alert man, with a tawny moustache, and keen glance. Finally the balloon towered like a gigantic pear over the heads of the throng, and strained to be free. It was held by a single rope, passing over the top, one end tied to a stout stick and the other held by sturdy assistants. The rope made a crease in the bulging, puffy dome.
Suddenly the aeronaut, having tested certain fastenings and knots, commanded sharply:
“Let go!”
The persons holding the rope released it. It slipped over the top. Amid shrill cheers and the hum of voices the balloon darted upward, dragging after it a trapeze, and there, below the trapeze, was the aeronaut, hanging by a slender cord. Up the cord he nimbly climbed, like a monkey, and sitting upon the bar of the trapeze, while the balloon continued its dizzy flight, kissed his hand to the gazing multitude beneath. Then he performed a number of acrobatic feats, and later lit somewhere, balloon and all, to appear and repeat the program the next day.
Ned wondered how it felt. He was soon to find out.