“If we had only had a fine night, we could have got to Scotland,” said Dorothy Wynne, in a tone of profound regret.
“Don’t you be too sure!” answered Bob. “With this wind it looks more like the North Sea!”
“Then if our ballast had held out we could have got across to Norway,” retorted the young lady, who was not to be daunted by trifles.
But at this moment the car jerked violently, throwing all its four occupants against one side of itself. It turned and rolled and jumped like a skiff in a breaking sea.
“Hang on, girls!” cried Bob Trevelyan. “We’re on our trial rope already!”
The two young women were already hanging on by the rigging for dear life; and Jocelyn was making it especially easy for Anne to hang on. Indeed, she had a sensation which was very like being carried along in his arms—which surprised her, for she knew she was not particularly light in spite of her slim waist. A slender ash sapling can be as heavy as a common pine nearly twice its size.
Presently the jerking was varied by a violent wrench, which laid the car on its side, and almost upset it.
“Bad for that tree-top,” observed Bob, as the balloon sailed away again. “What next, I wonder? Does any one see anything? One ought to, with that moon up there; but it’s as dark as Erebus.”
“It’s the blackest moonlight night I’ve ever known,” laughed Anne.
Possibly she found it more amusing than the other did, and she certainly felt more safe than Lady Dorothy possibly could. Jocelyn was a surprisingly strong young man, and may have exaggerated her danger a little.