“Hello, people!”
“Good heavens! It’s Nat!” fairly shouted the professor, as Nat, whose feet were alone visible round the bulge of the gas bag, clambered nimbly down and dropped from the rigging, beside them.
In his excess of joy, the professor flung his arms around Nat’s neck, much to the lad’s embarrassment, while the rest fairly fought for a chance to grasp his hand. In intervals of joy making, Nat told his story, part of which we are familiar with.
It seemed that when he swooned on the swaying balloon top he instinctively clutched at the first thing his hand encountered, which was one of the valve ropes. The valve, already loosened by his pounding on it, yielded to the sudden pressure upon it and jerked open. At least, this was the only explanation Nat could furnish of the fortunate occurrence.
When he came to himself he said he saw that the Discoverer was at a reasonable height, and manipulating the cords he again closed the valve. He was too weak to attempt the descent at once, but lay outstretched on the top of the gas bag, regaining his strength. All this time he suffered with a dreadful fear that his friends below might have succumbed to the awful rigors of the upper air. With an apprehensive heart he at last began the climb down and he concluded:
“You may imagine how delighted I was to hear your voices, even if the professor was preaching my funeral sermon.”
The boys broke out into wild yells of enthusiasm.
“Three cheers for Nat Trevor, the bravest boy on earth!” shouted Joe Hartley.
The shouts rang out oddly in the thin atmosphere of mid-air, but they relieved the boys’ feelings. As they died out, Matco appeared at the door of the cabin, and gazed at the scene a moment. Then seeing that Nat was the idol of the moment the Indian ran nimbly along the swaying deck and throwing himself on his knees, placed Nat’s foot on his head.
It was the last straw.