president and submit his credentials. Humanly speaking, the billet was
secured. Nothing remained but to find Jim. To my surprise, however,
Ajax urged me to wait a few hours.

"I want to see Jim's honest grin again as much as you do, but we must
tell him before Thorpe When I upset an apple-cart, I like to see the
apple rolling about, don't you?"

"We'll tell 'em after dinner to-night."

That afternoon we forgathered in the Fair Grounds. The racing was
uninteresting, and presently Angela suggested that we should go up in
the captive balloon. We had watched it ascending and descending with
interest. Some of our friends bored us by describing at too great
length the panoramic splendour of the view. Angela and Ajax wanted to
soar, Thorpe and I preferred Mother Earth; to Jim was offered the
casting vote. He spun a dollar to decide, and within a few minutes the
five of us were seated in the wicker-car. I remember that our aeronaut
inspired confidence in Angela because he wore the Grand Army medal. A
windlass and a donkey-engine controlled the big rope which held us
captive. We went aloft in a series of disagreeable and upsetting
jerks. This may be an unusual experience, but it was ours. I am a bad
sailor, and so is Ajax. Neither of us smiled when Thorpe addressed the
veteran as--"Steward!"

Suddenly there came a still sharper jerk, and the cable split. The
balloon seemed to leap upwards, swerved like a frightened bird, and
then, caught by the wind, sailed upward and seaward, swooping on with
a paradoxically smooth yet uneven flight.

"Jeeroosalem!" ejaculated our aeronaut. Then he added coolly enough:
"Sit tight; you'll none of you be the worse for this little trip."

His confidence diffused itself agreeably. Angela laughed, Thorpe's
face relaxed, Jim peered over the edge of the car.

"Gad!" said he, "we seem to be going a tremendous pace."

The veteran took a squint alow and aloft as he fingered the rope that
opened the valve. Next time he spoke the confidence had leaked from
his voice, leaving behind a nervous squeak.

"This yere valve won't work!"

"Oh!" said Angela.

She looked at Thorpe as if seeking from him some word, some sign, of
comfort and encouragement. At the same moment she made an instinctive
movement towards him. Jim was staring at her, very pale. I saw him
half-open his lips and then close them. Frightened as I was, I can
swear that Jim was thinking only of his wife and what he could read
upon