The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 122: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

112 the girl. She looked about her with startled eyes, and the events of the pre- vious day coming back to her, she slipped from her seat with the color coming into her cheeks. Then she glanced sharply over the side, and I noted for the first time a soft, rush- ing sound that came up from below. I got to my cramped limbs and joined her. A glance showed me that we had dropped until the guide-rope was trailing the tops of a forest of pines below. Hastily the girl threw over the last of the sand, and we rose, not buoyantly, as had the gallant ship the night before, but wearily, as though she were sick to death and would seek Mother Earth as a last resting place. Day was coming on swiftly now, and below us I could see an unbroken forest stretching in every direction. Another thing I noted, and that was that we were drifting lazily along. The gale had left us, or we had dropped below it. Sluggishly we were being waft- ed toward a high hill that stood in our path, I turned to the girl. “Will we clear it?” I asked, “T am afraid not,” she answered tense- ly; and then: ‘‘ Quick—our sweaters!” She was out of hers in a moment and had cast it over the side. I followed suit as the tall pines of the summit of the hill drifted to meet us, We cleared them by inches, and then the girl cried out with joy. A bowl-like valley lay before us, in its center a pond set like a jewel in the hills. With the exception of a solitary oak, the shores of the pond were free of trees for a hundred yards back from the water’s edge. As though our ship of the air had sought this quiet harbor through the long night, she settled wearily toward it. The girl reached for a cord and pulled it. It opened the valve in the top of the great bag, I learned afterward, and has- tened our descent. As slowly we floated across the pond, I remember noticing with surprise that of it. THE ARGOSY. from this height I could see to the bottom And then it seemed that we would carry on too far. But Elizabeth Norcross knew what she was about. She pulled another cord, and the anchor, lashed to the outside of the car, went hurtling through the air and stuck at the edge of the pond. “Hold fast!” cried the girl, and she pulled savagely at yet another cord. I heard a ripping sound, and the great bag above us collapsed. We came to earth with a jolt, lifted once, and struck again, this time to stay. ITT, MAN quickly adjusts himself from a a state of danger to one of temporary safety. The car had been thrown on its side when it struck the last time. With an instinct born of other experiences, Miss Norcross had clung to the net-ropes and landed on her feet. Brute Flanagan and I were tumbled unceremoniously out, but without dam- age. The big man got to his cramped limbs, and tramped up and down the shore of the pond in an effort to restore circulation. Miss Norcross leaned weak- ly against the overturned car. She had been under a greater strain than either of us realized. She was shiv- ering with cold, too, and I made her put on my coat. Then I set about collecting wood for a fire, and presently had a live- ly blaze going, around which all three of us gathered. As we stood there I looked over the ground. Hills rose steeply in a circle about the pond, shutting out any extend- ed view of our way out of the wilderness. Half-way up the slopes of these, scattered cedars gave way to heavy timber. The touch of fall was already on these northern forests, and the hillsides were gorgeous with bright yellows and occa- sional reds. The sun, peering over the rim of hills to our left, gave us the gen- eral direction of home, at least. How many impassable swamps, un- scalable mountains, and unfordable COMMIGLOOOKS (E@