e turned the machine up the road, which threaded narrow
ledges through growths of bramble and stunted trees.

He saw and turned sick in soul and body, for the pulling of the balloon
held the basket almost inverted, and Pauline was not in the basket.

The anchor had doubled itself into rock or root far down the cliff
side. From it the balloon dragged toward the river instead of toward
the shore. The taut rope writhed fifty feet out from the top of the
declivity.

To the edge of the cliff crawled Harry. He moved rapidly, but at the
uttermost verge he paused and covered his eyes with his, hand.

At last he looked down.

To Pauline on her wild flight had come increasing calm. As she felt
the balloon reaching lower levels--though it still soared high above
the hills--she even allowed herself a little hope. Leaning over, she
watched the shining blades of the anchor dance through the air.
Northeastward she could see the waves of the great river dancing. On
the little anchor, hung her hope of life; in the water beyond the
farthest cliff lay her final peril.

She had lost track of Harry and the other automobile long ago. She had
given up all hope of aid from any living thing.

The balloon moved slowly above the palisade. The anchor dragged on the
landward side of the knolls. These were sheer rock that the steel
talons clawed in vain.

The balloon moved out over the river, then suddenly glided back. An
eddy of breeze from the water had turned its course. The anchor
dangled along the river wall of the precipice.

Pauline seized the rope. She alternately pulled and loosened it,
trying to hook the anchor to tree or shrub. Suddenly she was flung
forward--almost out of the basket. The balloon had stopped with a
jerk. Hopefully, fearfully, she pulled in the rope. The anchor held.
The balloon was tugging and swaying wildly, but its tether did not
break. She looked down at the ledge. Between her and that narrow
footing the only thoroughfare was two hundred feet of swaying rope.
She pulled upon the rope again. She dropped two more of the heavy
ballast bags over the side, and the bag shook and groaned upon its
stays as it dragged the anchor deeper into the rock. She put her feet
over the edge of the basket. With her hands clutching the rim, she
lowered herself. Taking her hands from the basket and grasping the
rope, she started down.

The raw hemp tore her hands. The fearful strain upon her arms made her