ut before Bassett's name was
reached. That meant another afternoon of dismal lingering in the
office, without even a photograph to chase.

Bassett flung himself disgustedly into a chair and straightened a
newspaper with a vicious crackle as the last of the other reporters
hurried out. He thought he caught a gleam of merry pity in the
reporter's eye. Never mind. Let 'em laugh. Let 'em wait. One of
these days he'll be the one getting the real stuff and putting it
through, too, from tip to type, without a rewrite man or a copy reader
touching it. Let 'em wait!

"In a balloon? Where?"

The suddenly vibrant voice of the city editor talking over the
telephone caused Bassett to lower his paper and hushed even the chatter
of the office boys.

"Palisades--Panatella; yes. Who's the girl? You don't know?"

The paper dropped from Bassett's hands.

"Much obliged. I'll have a man over there, but you go right ahead."
The city editor clicked down the receiver and whirled in his chair.

"Oh--Bassett. Our Weehawken man says a young woman has been carried
off by Panatella's balloon. They've lost the balloon. Get a car and
get over there quick. Go as far as you like, only find the girl and
let me hear from you--quick."

Bassett jumped to a phone and ordered a high-powered machine to meet
him at Ninety-sixth street. He ran down William street, with his straw
hat under his arm, and dived into the subway. An express had him at
Ninety-sixth street in a few minutes. His machine was there. They
dashed for the ferry and were on the aviation field before the
bewildered crowd that had witnessed the runaway flight of the balloon
had dispersed.

Bassett jumped out and mingled with the people. They knew nothing
except the general direction toward the west that the balloon had
taken. Automobilists had pursued for a long way, but had seen the gas
bag turn to the north and disappear in the hills. The automobilists
had returned--most of them. Two who had been with the girl before
she leaped into the basket had not returned.

Bassett got back in the car beside the driver, and they glided off on
the westward road.

Every one in the farm houses along the route had seen the balloon. But
the houses were further and further apart as Bassett's course was drawn
northward and, often he missed the trail.

The trail was blazed by the wheel ruts of a giant touring car and a
small runabout that frequently left the highways and p