“At that rate, sir, he is as likely to miss them as not.”
“Quite possible, unless he is uncommonly sharp and on the alert. Recollect that we shall have, when daylight breaks in, to fill out with gas the loose folds of the balloon, and get her dry. You run over to the works,” he added, turning to Tom, “and say I shall want as much gas as they can spare to make up for what we’ve lost, as she will soon throw off the wet if she is more fully distended, and afterwards we can get her into the sun’s rays.”
“Please to recollect, Mr Goodall,” said the gamekeeper, “that most of these men, who are agricultural labourers, will have to leave us at six o’clock.”
“I’ll not overlook that, Bennet, and now,” continued the aeronaut turning to Trigger, “won’t you get some rest?”
“Not I, sir; you have most need of rest.”
“That’s just what I think, Mr Goodall,” said the gamekeeper, “and if you go and shake down for an hour or two in my cottage, I will call you if it comes on to blow again, or when Trigger has taken in gas.”
“Say at five o’clock, sir,” said Tom Trigger.
“Good, I will follow your excellent advice, but be sure you do call me by five o’clock.”
“You may rely on that, sir,” said Bennet.
As dawn broke, the scud and the clouds were moving swiftly under the influence of a N.N.W. wind, though it had gone down near the ground, so that Trigger and the workmen were enabled to complete the inflation; but Tom did not attach the car, nor would he move anything out of it, not even the store of provisions nor the firearms, until his master came out of the cottage, so that Bennet determined to rouse him for fresh orders, for it was a lovely morning, and, as the clouds cleared, the power of the sun began to dry the balloon. Meanwhile, the workpeople had some breakfast served out to them by Bennet, who anxiously awaited the appearance of the aeronaut.