"We're falling!" shouted Paul.
"No, it's just an air pocket," was the opinion of Lieutenant McBride. "We'll be all right in another moment."
They were, but before that Grit, taken unawares, had slid unwillingly to the edge of the open deck.
"Look out for him!" shouted Dick, making a grab for his pet.
But he was too late. The deck was smooth, and the bulldog could get no grip on it. In another instant he had toppled over the edge of the platform, rolling under the lowest of the guard rails.
"There he goes!" cried Paul.
Dick gave a gasp of despair. Grit let out a howl of fear.
And then, as Larry Dexter leaned over the side, he gave a cry of surprise.
"Look!" he shouted. "Grit's caught by a rope and he's hanging there by his teeth!"
And, as Dick looked, he saw a strange sight. Trailing over the side of the airship deck was a piece of rope, that had become loosed. And, in his fall, Grit had caught hold of this in his strong jaws. To this he clung like grim death, his grip alone keeping him from falling into space.