"Good idea," commented Mr. Sharp. "Down it is. Shift the rudder."
Tom proceeded to do so, and, while Mr. Damon relieved him at the wheel the young inventor prepared a message to his father. It was placed in a weighted envelope, together with a sum of money, and the person picking it up was requested to send the letter as a telegram, retaining some money for his trouble.
As the ship got lower and lower over the city the usual crowds could be seen congregating in the streets, pointing and gazing upward.
"We're creating quite a stir," observed Tom.
"More than usual, it seems," added Mr. Sharp, peering down. "I declare, there seems to be a police parade under way."
"That's right," put in Mr. Damon, for, looking down, a squad of uniformed officers, some on horseback, could be seen hurrying along the main street, trying to keep pace with the airship, which was moving slowly.
"They're looking at us through telescopes," called Tom. "Guess they never saw a balloon down this way."
Nearer and nearer to the city dropped the Red Cloud. Tom was about to let go the weighted envelope, when, from the midst of the police came several puffs of white smoke. It was followed by vicious, zipping sounds about the cabin of the ship, the windows of which were open. Then came the reports of several rifles.
"They're firing at us!" yelled Tom.
"So they are!" cried Mr. Sharp. "They must be crazy! Can't they see that we're not a bird."