“I had no idea, Harry,” said Captain Link, “what tact and jockeyship were necessary in managing a balloon. You see,” he added, turning to Miss Chain, “the movements of this kind of craft differ widely from those of a vessel on the water—here all is noiseless and seemingly bewildering to novices like ourselves.”
“Do you think, Mr Goodall,” asked Miss Chain, “that we shall reach the spot you have your eye upon?”
“Oh, yes; and I do not want to miss it, as the downs beyond are uninviting—but I have no very accurate knowledge of this part of the country. We must stop talking, however, now, please. Pay away your trail rope, Trigger,” added the aeronaut; “the people there are inviting us with their cheers.”
As the long rope dragged over the trees, it was soon caught and held by the villagers and others who had collected, and the balloon was gradually stopped, without any order having been given to that effect. Then the people began to pull them down rather more hastily than pleased Mr Goodall, so that Trigger became somewhat excited and beckoned them not to do so until express orders were given.
“Tell that stout fellow in velveteens,” said the aeronaut, “not to be in such a hurry, and not to jerk the rope, Trigger.”
“Hold on, Bennet!” cried Trigger, “for one moment, please.”
“How dare you call that man nicknames!” cried Mr Goodall. “How do you know what his name is, and who, pray, are you kissing your hand to?”
“Why, sir, don’t you know where you are?”
“No, I don’t. Where are we, then?”
“Why, at Wedwell Park, in Sussex, to be sure. There stands Lucy, sir, and Bennet, the gamekeeper. Listen, sir, and there’s the squire, too, saying ‘Welcome friends, pray come down.’”