found it
possible to attempt a landing. Once or twice as the rope dragged over
cables he found his hair erect with electricity, and once he had a
slight shock, and sparks snapped about the car. He took these things
among the chances of the voyage. He had one idea now very clear in his
mind, and that was to drop the iron grapnel that hung from the ring.

From the first this attempt was unfortunate, perhaps because the place
for descent was ill-chosen. A balloon should come down in an empty open
space, and he chose a crowd. He made his decision suddenly, and without
proper reflection. As he trailed, Bert saw ahead of him one of the
most attractive little towns in the world--a cluster of steep gables
surmounted by a high church tower and diversified with trees, walled,
and with a fine, large gateway opening out upon a tree-lined high road.
All the wires and cables of the countryside converged upon it like
guests to entertainment. It had a most home-like and comfortable
quality, and it was made gayer by abundant flags. Along the road a
quantity of peasant folk, in big pair-wheeled carts and afoot, were
coming and going, besides an occasional mono-rail car; and at the
car-junction, under the trees outside the town, was a busy little
fair of booths. It seemed a warm, human, well-rooted, and altogether
delightful place to Bert. He came low over the tree-tops, with his
grapnel ready to throw and so anchor him--a curious, interested, and
interesting guest, so his imagination figured it, in the very middle of
it all.

He thought of himself performing feats with the sign language and chance
linguistics amidst a circle of admiring rustics....

And then the chapter of adverse accidents began.

The rope made itself unpopular long before the crowd had fully realised
his advent over the trees. An elderly and apparently intoxicated peasant
in a shiny black hat, and carrying a large crimson umbrella, caught
sight of it first as it trailed past him, and was seized with a
discreditable ambition to kill it. He pursued it, briskly with
unpleasant cries. It crossed the road obliquely, splashed into a pail of
milk upon a stall, and slapped its milky tail athwart a motor-car load
of factory girls halted outside the town gates. They screamed loudly.
People looked up and saw Bert making what he meant to be genial
salutations, but what they considered, in view of the feminine outcry,
to be insulting gestures. Then the car hit the roof of the g