car was covered with sacks of sand. Ordinarily one
unties the sacks and the sand is allowed to trickle out in a harmless
stream. I peered over the side. The balloon was now, so to speak, on
an even keel, falling almost perpendicularly. I saw, far down, a flash
of blue.

"Chuck 'em out, boys!"

Several sacks went overboard, and at once my solar plexus felt easier.
Again I peered down and saw nothing. The fog had engulfed us, but I
could hear the crash of the big combers as they broke upon the rocks
to the north of Avila.

What followed took place within a few seconds. We were encompassed by
thick dank fog. The balloon was perfectly steady, descending less
quickly, but with inexorable certainty, into the ocean. Around, an
uncanny silence encompassed us; above, we could hear the hiss of the
serpent; below, the menacing roar of the breakers. Then the old man
said curtly--

"Hurry up, boys. If we can get her up again, we may just strike the
dunes. What wind there is blows from the west."

We threw out the rest of the sacks. The balloon rose and slowly sank
again. The old man took off his coat.

"I can't swim worth a cent," he muttered grimly, "but I'm a-going to
try. If she tumbles quietly into the water, the wind may blow us
ashore."

A few more seconds passed. I heard a queer noise and discovered that
my teeth were chattering. Thorpe was taking off his boots.

The next moment the balloon gave a tremendous bound. I know that I
nearly fell upon my face, and Angela was thrown violently into the
bottom of the car. For an appreciable interval not one of us realised
that Jim had slipped overboard.

"The trade's got us," said the old man. "We shall just make them
dunes."

"Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Angela.

By the tone of her voice, by the smile parting her lips, I could see
that she did not know what had happened. Terror had dulled all
faculties save the one overmastering instinct of self-preservation.
Thorpe was about to speak, but Ajax caught his eye and with a gesture
silenced him. Once more the balloon began to fall----

* * * * *

We were thrown out upon the dunes. Some of us were badly bruised. When
we staggered to our feet, Angela said quickly--

"Why, where's Jim?"

Thorpe told her; let us give him credit for that. When he had
finished, he put out his hand, but she turned from him to Ajax.

"Come," she said.

She ran past us towards the beach, instinctively taking the right