"Observe, my lads," with a wave of his hand towards those whirling walls, and then ****** a downward motion. "You see that we are floating in a partial vacuum, yet where there is air sufficient to preserve life under difficulties. And by looking downward--careful that you don't fall overboard through dizziness, though!""Looks as though we were floating just above a bed of ugly wind!"declared Waldo, after taking a look below.
"Precisely; the aerostat rests upon an air-cushion amply solid enough to sustain far more than our combined weight. But what is the generally accepted view, my dear boys?""You tell, for we don't know how," frankly acknowledged Waldo.
"Thanks. Yet you are now far wiser than all of the scientists who have written and published whole libraries concerning these storm formations, but whose fallacies we are now fully prepared to explode, once for all, through knowledge won by personal investigation--ahem!"Strange though it may appear, the professor forgot the mutual danger by which they were surrounded, and trotted off on his hobby-horse in blissful pride, paying no attention to the hideous uproar going on, only raising his voice higher to make it heard by his youthful auditors.
"The common belief is that, while these tornadoes are hollow, even through the trunk or tongue down to its contact with the earth, that hollow is caused by a constant suction, through which a steady stream of debris is flowing, to be sown broadcast for miles around after emerging from the open top of the so-called balloon.""But it isn't at all like that," eagerly cried Waldo, pointing to where the fragments were flowing upward through those walls themselves, yet far enough from that hollow interior to be but indistinctly seen save on rare occasions. "Look at 'em scoot, will ye? Oh, if we could only climb up like that!"Professor Featherwit was keenly watching and closely studying that very phenomena through all, and now he gave a queer little chuckle, as he nodded his head with vigour, before dryly speaking.
"Well, it might be done; yes, it might be done, and that with no very serious difficulty, my lad.""How? Why not try it on, then?"
"To meet with instant death outside?" sharply queried Bruno. "It would be suicidal to make the attempt, even if we could; which Idoubt."
Waldo gave a sudden cry, pointing upward where, far above that destructive storm, could be seen a brace of buzzards floating on motionless wings, wholly undisturbed by the tumult below.
"If we were only like that!" the lad cried, longingly. "If a flying-machine could be built like those turkey-buzzards! Iwish--well, I do suppose they're about the nastiest varmints ever hatched, but just now I'd be willing to swap, and wouldn't ask any boot, either!"Apparently the professor paid no attention to this boyish plaint, for he was fumbling in the locker, then withdrew his hand and uncoiled an ordinary fish-line, with painted float attached.
Before either brother could ask a question, or even give a guess at his purpose, Professor Phaeton flung hook and cork into those circling currents, only to have the whole jerked violently out of his grip, the line flying upward, to vanish from the sight of all.
That jerk was powerful enough to cut through the skin of his hand, but the professor chuckled like one delighted, as he sucked away the few drops of blood before adding:
"I knew it! It CAN be done, and if the worst should come to pass, why should it not be done?"Before an answer could be vouchsafed by either of the brothers, the pall swooped down upon them once more, and again the supply of natural air was shut off, while their vessel was rocked and swayed crazily, just as though the delayed end was at last upon them.
For several minutes this torture endured, each second of which appeared to be an hour to those imperilled beings, who surely must have perished, as they lay pinned fast to the floor of the aerostat by that pitiless weight, only for the precious air-tubes in connection with that cylinder of compressed air.
After a seeming age of torment the awful pressure was relaxed, leaving the trio gasping and shivering, as they lay side by side, barely conscious that life lingered, for the moment unable to lift hand or head to aid either self or another.
In spite of his far greater age, Professor Featherwit was first to rally, and his voice was about the first thing distinguished by the brothers, as their powers began to rally.
"Shall we take our chances, dear boys?" the professor was saying, in earnest tones. "I believe there is a method of escaping from this hell-chamber, although of what may lie beyond--""It can't well be worse than this!" huskily gasped Bruno.
"Anything--everything--just to get out o' here!" supplemented Waldo, for once all spirits subdued.
"It may be death for us all, even if we do get outside," gravely warned the professor. "Bear that in mind, dear boys. It may be that not one of us will escape with life, after--""How much better to remain here?" interrupted Bruno. "I felt death would be a mercy--then! And I'd risk anything, everything, rather than go through such another ordeal! I say,--escape!""Me too, all over!" vigorously decided Waldo, lifting himself to both knees as he added: "Tell us what to do, and here I am, on deck, uncle."Even now Professor Phaeton hesitated, his eyes growing dimmer than usual as they rested upon one face after the other, for right well he knew how deadly would be the peril thus invited.
But, as the brothers repeated their cry, he turned away to swiftly knot a strong trail-rope to a heavy iron grapnel, leaving the other end firmly attached to a stanchion built for that express purpose.
"Hold fast, if you value life at all, dear boys!" he warned, then added: "Heaven be kind to you, even if my life pays the forfeit!
Now!"
Without further delay, he cast the heavy grapnel into that mass of boiling vapour, then fell flat, as an awful jerk was given the aerostat.