"Couldn't do it."
"Nine hundred dollars. I'm tired."
"Subtract eight and add a cipher, and I'm your man."
"Very well! Mr. Ticks is witness. I will give you five hundred when we leave the ground, and the balance when we touch it again."
"Done!"
The two men shook hands over their bargain.
"Let me see," said Swift, glancing at his watch, "it is ten o'clock. We will ascend at one."
"I will assist the professor in preparing his airship," said Mr. Ticks. "By the way, how tall is your balloon, professor? What is her cognomen?"
"I call her High Tariff, mister. That's her name. You'll see it on her. Wait till she gets her forty thousand cubic feet of gas in her, and you'll see her height."
By twelve o'clock the multitude had got wind of the undertaking, and were thronging towards the fenced enclosure, where the huge monster was flapping with that inane motion that only a half-filled balloon can take to itself. Rumors of the wildest description were afloat. By half-past twelve the balloon was, to all appearance, full, and sandbags were being put aboard. By one the crowd could hardly be kept back by self-sworn marshals, and the balloon tugged at its warps as if it would burst its bonds at the slightest provocation.