“In any case, Joe,” added Kennedy, “it would do us no harm to look to our fire-arms.”
“No harm in the world, Mr. Dick! We are lucky that we didn’t scatter them along the road.”
“My rifle!” said the sportsman. “I hope that I shall never be separated from it!”
And so saying, Kennedy loaded the pet piece with the greatest care, for he had plenty of powder and ball remaining.
“At what height are we?” he asked the doctor.
“About seven hundred and fifty feet; but we no longer have the power of seeking favorable currents, either going up or coming down. We are at the mercy of the balloon!”
“That is vexatious!” rejoined Kennedy. “The wind is poor; but if we had come across a hurricane like some of those we met before, these vile brigands would have been out of sight long ago.”
“The rascals follow us at their leisure,” said Joe. “They’re only at a short gallop. Quite a nice little ride!”
“If we were within range,” sighed the sportsman, “I should amuse myself with dismounting a few of them.”
“Exactly,” said the doctor; “but then they would have you within range also, and our balloon would offer only too plain a target to the bullets from their long guns; and, if they were to make a hole in it, I leave you to judge what our situation would be!”