Erno and Miss Fatima peered cautiously over the side, waving to their adoring public below. Soon the faces of the crowd grew less distinct, the mighty elephants and even thecircus tents assuming the dimensions of toys. The cheers of the crowd reflected upward with that peculiar clarity Rory had often noted on her flights. The balloon had not risen much higher when it jerked to a sudden halt.
“Damn you, Tony,” Rory thought. He had obviously prevented Angelo from reeling her out the full distance she had planned. Perhaps it was just as well. Much more and they would be obscured from the view of the circus crowd, lost in the scudding gray clouds overhead.
Rory looked expectantly at the Reverend Allgood. It was some moments before the little man would take the hint. At last he pried free of his death grip upon the basket’s side and drew forth his prayer book.
“D-dearly beloved,” he began.
A rumble of thunder sounded and he almost dropped the book. After a deep gulp, he relocated his place in the text and continued. Although she was supposed to be a witness to this event, Rory’s thoughts drifted from the ceremony.
The storm was moving closer. She had seen a distant flash of lightning. Although the balloon was fairly stable, she felt the insistent tug. If it had not been for the stout rope and the winch, the wind would have carried the Katie Moira away from the fairgrounds rapidly.
She wished there was some way she could force Allgood to hurry. But as though calmed by the familiar words of the wedding service, he was proceeding with all the slow dignity the occasion demanded. Finally, the minister reached his conclusion.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. What God hath joined, let no man set asunder.”
As Erno kissed the bride with great enthusiasm, Rory scooped up a red parachute. She tossed it over the side. Asit drifted back to earth, it would signal those below that the ceremony was complete.
Rory offered the couple her congratulations, and then produced a bottle of champagne from the bottom of the basket.
“On the way down, we’ll drink a toast to—” She halted in midsentence as the balloon gave a wild lurch. Dropping the champagne bottle, she pitched against Erno.
Miss Glory gave a little squeal as the balloon began to rise. “What’s happening? Why aren’t they bringing us down?”
Rory recovered her footing and braced herself against the side. Instantly, she knew that they were not only rising, but also drifting swiftly to the east.
Peering over the side, she saw the green splotch of earth and the mere specks that were the circus vanish from view. The next instant they were enveloped in the eerie gray world of the clouds. It was like being lost in a heavy fog. Rory didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow that blasted Angelo had let the rope come free of the winch. The Katie Moira was now in a pattern of free flight.
Her passengers looked puzzled, but only a little frightened, until the significance of the balloon’s movements dawned upon Erno.
“Why, we’ve broken loose,” he said.
The Reverend Allgood gasped and sagged down in the basket. Miss Glory shrieked.
“There is no cause for panic—” Rory was cut off by a roll of thunder. A burst of lightning seemed to electrify the entire cloud.
Rory gave up on any attempts to calm her passengers. She had to act and quickly. Snatching up a knife from the basket’s floor, she bent over the side and began slicing open the ballast bags, setting free a cascade of sand.
Erno seized hold of her wrist. “What are you doing? That will make us ascend even higher.”
Rory wrenched free and explained with all the patience she could muster. “We have no choice but to go up. We have to get above the storm.”
When she could make him understand, Erno moved to help her. “That’s enough,” Rory said. Gradually, the Katie Moira lifted out of the cloud cover. The sky above them emerged in a burst of blue, the sun more brilliant than the most sparkling summer day. That hushed calm descended, that absolute quiet which Rory had never found to exist anywhere on earth.
“Are we dead?” Reverend Allgood quavered. “Is this Heaven?”
“No,” Rory said, consulting her barometer. “It’s only about fifteen hundred feet.”
“We shall have quite an adventure to report when we land back at the fairgrounds.” Erno chuckled.
The fairgrounds? Rory arched one brow but said nothing. She didn’t know where they would be landing. She only knew it wouldn’t be anywhere near the circus. At this height, the movement of the wind was deceptive, but Rory knew they were being carried far from their point of departure. According to her compass, they were headed in a southeasterly direction. Rory’s one concern was that they should not end up in the Atlantic Ocean just as her father had done.
She was quick to set the thought aside, concentrating on her more immediate problem. Now that there was no shielding of clouds, the sun was heating the gas in the balloon, causing it to expand. The falling barometer told Rory they were rising steadily. The higher they went, the thinner the oxygen would become.
Rory tugged at the valve line, releasing some of the gas from the balloon. She pulled again and again, letting out a little moreair each time. The balloon’s descent became swifter until they were lost in the cloud cover once more.
Rory was certain they had outdistanced the storm. She could only hope that she would find some decent place to land, hopefully a nice level field.
As the cloud cover parted below them like vanishing mists, Rory peered downward. When she got her first good view of the terrain, she bit her lip. “Damn!”
