Now the body of the tree in question was almost in line with the spot where the boys were standing, and were the balloon so lucky as to clear this obstacle, it might pass close enough for these agile lads to race over and make a try for the dangling drag rope.
Hugh himself began to believe it was going to prove otherwise; and that after safely passing through all sorts of other perils, the man who had been a sky pilot was fated to be thrown out of his basket by a collision with that miserable tall and bushy tree that blocked the way.
Still, none of them dared make a start, until they saw what would happen. They could do nothing to prevent a collision; and should there be none, they wanted to remain where they were, so as to be ready for the rescue act that they had quickly planned.
Already the drifting balloon was close to the tree, and seemed to be setting toward it more and more, just as though there might be a great magnet attracting it; or, as Billy later on described it, “It was like a silly moth plunging straight for a lighted candle that was sure to singe its wings.”
Just as the collision actually came, all of the boys seemed to hold their very breath with awe. Arthur, however, having that instinct for securing all manner of strange pictures, mechanically raised his camera and prepared to take another snapshot view at the most critical second.
They could all plainly hear the dreadful scraping sound as the balloon dragged through the treetop. The silken covering must have been badly torn in its passage, for the rush of escaping gas came to the ears of the scouts, and they could see how quickly the immense bag began to collapse after it had dragged away from the tree.
“Come on, boys; we’ve got to get there in a big hurry!” exclaimed Hugh, as he started running with might and main, the others trooping after him. Arthur, of course, brought up the rear, since he had been compelled to snatch up certain parts of his photographic outfit from the ground where he had dropped them.
The balloon was rapidly falling to the ground, the basket being more or less enveloped in the voluminous folds of the immense silk bag.
Indeed, before the boys could reach the spot, the whole fabric had collapsed and grounded there, coming down with such force that it would seem as though the unfortunate pilot must either have been killed outright or at least suffered serious injuries.
In the latter case, perhaps the scouts might find themselves called upon to show “first aid to the injured.” Indeed, on a number of other occasions they had proved themselves apt pupils in the art; and it would be a lucky thing for the balloonist, should he be badly hurt, that fortune had allowed him to fall into the hands of trained boys. Ignorant countrymen would let him bleed to death, simply through a lack of knowledge of the essential things that should be promptly done.