"I am now prepared. It will go up as straight and quickly as a rocket, but we must catch it before it ascends two miles, for the clouds hang low, and we may lose it more quickly than we imagine."
The gunners stood in readiness, and the two officers looked away over Craigmillar towards the grey distant sea. Dawn was spreading now, and the haze was gradually clearing. They all knew the attempt would be made ere long, before it grew much lighter, so they stood at their posts in readiness, Mackenzie with his hand upon the lever which would regulate the discharge.
They were moments of breathless expectancy. Minute after minute went by, but not a word was spoken, for every eye was turned upon the crest of a certain ridge nearly three miles away, at a point where the country was well wooded.
A quarter of an hour had thus elapsed, when Mackenzie suddenly shouted, "Look, lads! _There she goes!_ Now, let's teach 'em what Scots can do."
As he spoke there rose from behind the ridge a great dark mass, looking almost spectral in the thin morning mist. For a moment it seemed to poise and swing as if uncertain in its flight, then quickly it shot straight up towards the sky.
"Ready?" shouted Mackenzie, his momentary excitement having given place to great coolness. The men at their posts all answered in the affirmative. Mackenzie bent and waited for a few seconds sighting the gun, while the motor hummed with terrific speed. Then shouting "Fire!" he drew back the lever.
The gun discharged, but there was no report, only a sharp hiss as the compressed air released commenced to send charge after charge of dynamite automatically away into space in rapid succession!
None dared to breathe. The excitement was intense. They watched the effect upon the Russian balloon, but to their dismay saw it still rapidly ascending and unharmed!
It had altered its course, and instead of drifting away seaward was now travelling towards Duddingston, and making straight for Edinburgh, passing above the Russian camp.
"Missed! _missed!_" Mackenzie shrieked, turning back the lever and arresting the discharge. "It's four miles off now, and we can carry seven and three-quarters to hit a fixed object. Remember, lads, the fate of Auld Reekie is now in your hands! Ready?"