A mighty
blast roared about the frail balloon, jerking it here and there in
such a violent manner that the boys were nearly thrown out. The
captive balloon tore madly at its moorings, and seemed like some
wild thing struggling to be free.
"We're in for it now," yelled Dunton, the observer. "She won't
stand much more of this, and if she breaks away, it's the
parachutes for us."
Even as he spoke a specially vicious blast tore madly at the
balloon, and the occupants heard a ripping, tearing sound. A
second later the big "sausage" leaped upward, and the boys did not
need to be told that it had broken free from its moorings.
"Get hold of the parachutes!" yelled Dunton, "but don't jump yet.
This wind is too strong, but if it dies down a little we'll have
to risk it."
They were traveling at a terrific rate before the wind, and
mounting steadily higher. Instead of abating, the wind seemed
momentarily to increase in violence, and the balloon made
increasingly heavier weather of it. It was only a matter of time
when the wind would rip it to pieces, and this catastrophe was not
long in coming.
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