Presently the anxious passengers heard the branches of the taller trees beginning to strike and grind against the bottom and sides of the car. Not a word was spoken as they stood by supporting themselves by the rail, while shock after shock jarred the car from stem to stern.
“Yards of money gone for the sake of a few feet of gas and a little trouble, Kindale,” murmured Major Carroll, regretfully.
“The anchor has ketched in something, sir.”
The financier instantly realized that Kindale’s observation was true. The tightening rope had gradually stopped the air-ship, which was now tipping more and more downward.
At last, beaten down by the force of the wind, and struggling hard to break away, it brought up against a tree top. A rending and crashing of branches followed the impact of the car.
Next instant, as if giving up the struggle, the “Border City” began to settle on its side amid the trees. The car, held by the solid pine branches, tilted at a dangerous angle.
“Oh—oh!—we’re going to be spilled out!” gasped Willie Sloan, with a thrill of terror.
“No—keep cool!” called out Major Carroll, in a reassuring voice. “This is the end of our trip: we shall easily be able to reach the ground in safety.”
“We’re sure stuck tight enough this time, sir,” said the engineer.
Again Kindale’s observation proved to be correct. The air-ship was firmly held by the drag rope. Its great hull, straining and tugging, was as far in advance of the car as the connecting framework would permit. With every heavy gust of wind it dipped downward at a sharper angle; then rose again.