parachute lay flat along the ground and beyond it the trapeze. I tossed
aside my overcoat, took my position, and gave the signal to let go. As
you know, the first rush upward from the earth is very sudden, and this
time the balloon, when it first caught the wind, heeled violently over
and was longer than usual in righting. I looked down at the old familiar
sight of the world rushing away from me. And there were the thousands of
people, every face silently upturned. And the silence startled me, for,
as crowds went, this was the time for them to catch their first breath
and send up a roar of applause. But there was no hand-clapping,
whistling, cheering--only silence. And instead, clear as a bell and
distinct, without the slightest shake or quaver, came George's voice
through the megaphone:

"Ride her down, Charley! Ride the balloon down!"

What had happened? I waved my hand to show that I had heard, and began
to think. Had something gone wrong with the parachute? Why should I ride
the balloon down instead of making the jump which thousands were waiting
to see? What was the matter? And as I puzzled, I received another start.
The earth was a thousand feet beneath, and yet I heard a child crying
softly, and seemingly very close to hand. And though the "Little Nassau"
was shooting skyward like a rocket, the crying did not grow fainter and
fainter and die away. I confess I was almost on the edge of a funk,
when, unconsciously following up the noise with my eyes, I looked above
me and saw a boy astride the sandbag which was to bring the "Little
Nassau" to earth. And it was the same little boy I had seen struggling
with the two girls--his sisters, as I afterward learned.

There he was, astride the sandbag and holding on to the rope for
dear life. A puff of wind heeled the balloon slightly, and he swung out