The dark, ominous aspect of nature increased; the forests and crags were almost swallowed up in the dense, gloomy atmosphere.
He hurried back, and found Major Carroll and his engineer paying out a rope through an opening in the bottom of the car.
“It’s the anchor,” explained the Major. “Don’t be alarmed, my boy; it ought to stop us.”
Willie Sloan walked to the rail and deliberately looked downward. At any other time, he might not have been able to view the immense void beneath without being overpowered by a feeling of dizziness, but now his gaze was almost steady. It rested upon the anchor dangling nearer and nearer the earth. The iron seemed almost touching, yet it was still being lowered.
“Goodness! If it only catches in something and holds, won’t I be glad?” murmured Willie.
He suddenly became aware of a damp, sticky feeling sweeping across his face. He lifted his eyes, with a start of surprise, to see masses of vapor swirling through the car.
“The clouds!” he cried, in an awe-struck voice.
The “Border City” was speedily enveloped from stem to stern; and the mist rolled thicker and thicker, until everything beyond a few yards became blotted out. The men, still engaged in lowering the anchor, appeared as shadowy, gigantic figures.
“My; this is the worst yet!” Willie groaned.
He vainly tried to make out their position; but the veil seemed to have become even more dense and impenetrable.