The colour rushed back to Ephraim’s face in a great wave, and while he satisfied himself by a look that the balloon was falling, he fondled and soothed the boy by his side as a mother might have done.
‘Thar now, Luce; thar now,’ he said tenderly, ‘don’t take on no more. Shucks! It warn’t nuthin’, now it’s over. We’re going down now. Steady, bub, steady; we’re jist gittin’ ter thet bank of storm-clouds. Thar’—drawing Lucius close to him, as the boy shivered with apprehension—‘now we’re through that lot, and none the worse er it. Look, Luce, look—thar’s old Mother Earth. Bullee! Reckon ye’ll prefer to stay down wanst ye git thar.’
Ephraim, his feet twined among the cordage, slowly mounted towards the network.
‘Oh, yes,’ sobbed Lucius. ‘We’ll get home somehow, but not in this awful balloon.’
Old Blue Bag was now rapidly nearing the earth, and had the boys had the heart to consider it, a wonderful panorama lay stretched out below them. But earth in their regard held but one joy just then—it was a resting-place, a sure haven of safety, and for its beauties they had no eye. With one hand on the valve cord, and holding a bag of ballast in the other, Ephraim regulated their descent. The grapnel was out, and as the balloon slowly sank, dragged through the tops of the trees in a thick wood. Now they were past this, and floating over open spaces again. The grapnel swept along the ground, caught under the bole of a fallen tree—and they were safe.
‘Whoop!’ screeched Ephraim, flinging out a rope. ‘I reckon we’ve got thar. Over ye go, Luce.’
Lucius did not wait to be told twice. He simply flung himself upon the rope, and scrambling down, sank in a confused heap upon the ground. Ephraim followed quickly, saw that the balloon was fast and secure, and was just bending anxiously over his companion, when a sudden sound caused him to look up.
From all directions men in blue uniforms, and guns with bayonets fixed in their hands, were running towards them.
‘Gloryful gracious!’ murmured Ephraim, straightening up. ‘Ef thet ain’t the peskiest kind er luck. We’ve been and tumbled right inter a nest er Yanks!’