“For a very good reason,” said Mr. Jesson, who had been observing the young aëronaut closely; “he’s scared to death.”
The boys, observing the spangled air traveler more carefully, now perceived that Mr. Jesson was correct. The little fellow turned a pitiable face toward them. What made his situation worse was that the hot air in the balloon was evaporating, and if he did not jump quickly it would be too late. Jack shouted words to that effect to the lad. But the panic-stricken boy only clung tighter to the ropes of his trapeze, and shook his head pitifully. It seemed as if he dared not look downward at the empty void between himself and the earth.
“Drop on the parachute!” shouted Tom; “if you don’t, the balloon will fall with you!”
As his cousin spoke, Jack maneuvered the Flying Road Racer yet closer to the hot-air balloon. Big wrinkles now appeared in the bag of the circus balloon, and it began to sag downward more rapidly.
“Great ginger! That kid is paralyzed by fright!” exclaimed Tom, his own face pale; “what are we going to do?”
“Save him if we can,” breathed Jack, “but how?”
“Can’t you get alongside that balloon and take him off?” interrogated Mr. Jesson.
“It will be fearfully risky.”
“True; but we can’t let him be dashed to earth without attempting to save him.”
“I have it,” exclaimed Tom; “I’ll get out the light grappling iron. I’ll throw it and try to entangle it in the parachute. Then we can pull the balloon alongside and get that boy off.”