“You know quite enough, my trusty Tom, for the present. We must be off in ten minutes’ time. Never mind saying ‘Good-bye.’ And here, Bennet, request these men not to shout or make the slightest noise, as I am off for a short trip; and you won’t mind trusting your firearms in our care, as the taking them out might create some astonishment. You understand, Bennet?”
“I begin to, sir. But what am I to say to the squire and the ladies?”
“Tell the squire all that took place truthfully. He knows what my intentions are.” Then, turning to Tom, the aeronaut said,—“Is the ballast ample, Tom? Just give me a lift into the car, Bennet.”
“And ease up this rope,” cried Trigger, “when Mr Goodall gives the word.”
“Now, then,” said Mr Goodall, “ease away the rope, Bennet.”
“Throw one bag of sand out, Tom. She will do now. We’re off, Bennet.”
“Please, sir,” cried Lucy, “may I speak to Trigger?”
“The moment he returns, you can, Lucy,” said Mr Goodall, as they rose.
“She mounts beautifully over the trees, Trigger.”
“She does indeed, sir,” said Tom, who, although Lucy was crying, kept his eye in advance of them.