Dave stared dizzily upward to where the giant sausage drifted silently on. It was a sheer fifty feet. To reach this there was but one means, a slender ladder of rope. Could he do it? Could he climb to the balloon and slit it before they reached the ocean?
It was their only chance. If the City of Gold was not a complete illusion; if human beings lived there at all, they might hope for food and shelter. There were chemicals in the cabin for re-inflating the balloon. A fair wind, or the discovery of the method of operating that Oriental engine, might insure them a safe voyage home. But once they were out over the ocean—his heart went sick at the thought of it.
Gripping the rounds of the ladder, he began to climb. It was a perilous task. Now with a sinking sensation he felt the ladder apparently drop from beneath him. The balloon had struck a pocket of air. And now he felt himself lifted straight up a fleeting hundred feet.
Holding his breath, he waited. Then, when the motion was stable, he began to climb again. He had covered two-thirds of the distance, was staring up at the bulk that now seemed almost upon his very head, when, with a little cry, he felt his foot crash through a rotten strand. It was a second of dreadful suspense. Madly he grasped the rope sides of the ladder. His left hand slipped, but his right held firm. There, for a fraction of time that seemed an eternity, supported by only one hand, he hung out over thousands of feet of airy space.
His left hand groped for the ropes which eluded his grasp. He gripped and missed, gripped and missed. Then he caught it and held on. He was holding firmly now with both hands. But how his arms ached! With his feet he began kicking for the ladder, which, swinging and bagging in the wind, seemed as elusive as a cobweb. At last, when strength was leaving him, he doubled up his knees and struck out with both feet. They fell upon something and stuck there. They had found a round of the ladder. Hugging the ropes, he panted for breath, then slowly worked himself to a more natural position.
“Huh!” he breathed at last. “Huh! Gee! That makes a fellow dizzy!”
He had climbed ten steps further when a cry of joy escaped his lips:
“The valve-cord!”
It was true. By his side dangled a small rope which reached to the balloon.
Gripping this he gave it a quick pull and was rewarded at once by the hiss of escaping gas.