All at once there came a sharp snap from above them.
To their overstrung nerves it sounded like a pistol shot.
“One of the wires has parted!” cried Ned in a terror-stricken tone.
“It is the beginning of the end,” groaned Captain Andrews, sinking his head in his hands.
“Can nothing be done?” gasped out Mr. Jesson, who alone of all that pallid-faced crew could find his voice at that instant.
“Nothing,” was the reply. “In ten minutes or less every wire holding us to that gas bag will have parted like that one.”
“And then?”
“And then, my friend, we shall be dropped five thousand feet through space.”
CHAPTER XXII—A VOYAGE OF TERROR
This dire prophecy was, however, not destined to be fulfilled. To the intense joy of the air travelers, the circular motion ceased almost as suddenly as it had begun, and the rest of the wires remained intact. Evidently, the Flying Road Racer had encountered a cross current of wind at the great altitude she had now attained, which brought her safely out of the aerial whirlpool.