"All steady," commanded Ned when each man had been placed; "now hang onto her."
Then he and Alan, springing into the car, began the work of making it fast to the bag. There was a place marked for each of the extension ropes, and the air ship builders, beginning at each end of the car, carefully adjusted and tied the end of each rope to the frame of the ship. As the cords were taken from the attendants the men took hold of the lower framework of the car, and to make doubly sure each man was cautioned to throw his entire weight into the work.
At last the final rope was made fast, and three thousand pounds of human flesh and muscle were holding the tugging balloon. Ned, covered with perspiration, and nervous but happy, was hastily connecting the compensating balloon tube with the hand blower on the bridge, and Alan had run astern to tie the new national colors to the halyards swinging from the end of the bag.
"Hold on," cried Ned seeing that Alan was ready to run up the stars and stripes. "Just a moment. Are you all ready, Mr. Mayor?"
"All ready," came the answer from the town official, as he stood on a box, his hat off and a revolver in his hand.
"With a western salute I christen this balloon the 'Cibola,'" he exclaimed, and a shot punctuated his speech. "Good luck and goodbye!"
As the shot sounded Alan's flag ran fluttering upwards. Ned's eyes took one final look fore and aft and then he leaned over the car for the last words for which all were waiting.
They were on his lips and the eyes of twenty straining men were fixed on him to hear the command, "Let go." One nervous attendant, apparently thinking the order had been given, threw up his arms with a shout.
At that instant there was a second sharp pistol shot, and a quick cry from the street outside the corral.
"Hold on there, all of you!" shouted Ned. His dream had rushed back to him with a sickening chill. Had some one shot at the towering bag? "Hold on!" he yelled.