In late October the sea fog generally begins to roll up about four o'clock. If the breeze is from the land, the fog is kept at bay for an hour or two. As a rule, the breeze fails, and then the fog asserts its dominion over all things on land and sea. Without knowing much of aerial navigation, I grasped the fact that we were being swept into the fog, and that if we intended to descend on land there was not a minute to be lost. Thorpe, I fancy, had arrived at the same conclusion. He said in a queer, high-pitched tone--
"Can't you stick a knife into the balloon?"
Jerking at the two ropes in his hands, he spoke collectedly, in an indifferent tone--the tone of a man who has confronted death often, who realises his impotence, who submits apathetically to impending fate, whether good or ill.
"It's very cold," said Angela. Jim began to unbutton his jacket. "Don't," she said sharply; "all the coats in the world wouldn't warm me."
"Stick a knife into the confounded thing," repeated Thorpe.
"S'pose you do it," said the veteran snappishly.
Thorpe stood up at once, staggered, and fell upon the floor of the car. He could master a broncho, but he had never attempted to boss a balloon. The old man smiled.
"A man," said he, "may be mighty smart on land and behave like a baby in a balloon. You sit tight, mister."
The balloon was now careening like a racing-yacht in a squall. We had met opposing currents of air in the debatable area where wind and fog struggled for the mastery. The fog had the mighty trade wind behind it, forcing it landward. Already we were approaching the sand-dunes, the very spot for an easy descent if we could descend.
Above I could hear the soft, sibilant sound of the escaping gas, not unlike the hiss of a snake. I was also sensible that my heart, not to mention other important organs, was trying to get into my throat.
"Valve must ha' bust," said the old man. "Stand by to throw out ballast."
The bottom of the 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.