“Let us reach its banks, at all events,” said the Scot, “and that will be so much gained.”
“That is what we are trying to do,” rejoined Ferguson, “only that one thing makes me feel anxious.”
“What is that?”
“We shall have mountains to pass, and that will be difficult to do, since I cannot augment the ascensional force of the balloon, even with the greatest possible heat that I can produce.”
“Well, wait a bit,” said Kennedy, “and we shall see!”
“The poor Victoria!” sighed Joe; “I had got fond of her as the sailor does of his ship, and I’ll not give her up so easily. She may not be what she was at the start—granted; but we shouldn’t say a word against her. She has done us good service, and it would break my heart to desert her.”
“Be at your ease, Joe; if we leave her, it will be in spite of ourselves. She’ll serve us until she’s completely worn out, and I ask of her only twenty-four hours more!”
“Ah, she’s getting used up! She grows thinner and thinner,” said Joe, dolefully, while he eyed her. “Poor balloon!”
“Unless I am deceived,” said Kennedy, “there on the horizon are the mountains of which you were speaking, doctor.”
“Yes, there they are, indeed!” exclaimed the doctor, after having examined them through his spy-glass, “and they look very high. We shall have some trouble in crossing them.”