The altimeter registered forty-one thousand feet. He knew, dimly, that he must hurry; but there was no conscious fear among his muddled thoughts. Suddenly there was that suffocation in his lungs; he changed to the third cylinder of oxygen, his movements heavy. It was later than he had thought--the time was now almost too short! Speed! Conway dropped the remainder of his sand, cut away the second cylinder to lighten the balloon still further. His movements were sluggish, and he fumbled stupidly. The paralysis was moving upward in his body, was seeping into his arms already; would soon sweep up and touch his sight and hearing and his brain. His foggy mind worked incoherently. Up two thousand more.... Down twenty thousand--the air was thick down there.... Thirty minutes on the last tank.... Never make it! Go down now! But a dogged disregard for safety made him go ahead. * * * * * Vaguely he remembered dropping his batteries to lighten the balloon still more. Speed! If he got caught up there without oxygen, he’d be dead before he could get down! The altimeter registered forty-two. He reached for the valve-cord with clownish awkwardness, then released it: he’d go on up. His mind worked things out in blurred succession as the needle crept slowly around the dial. A free balloon is equipped with a “rip panel” in its top, which, when torn free, allows a complete deflation of the bag. The loss of gas permits the cloth of the bottom portion of the balloon to fold back within the upper portion, forming in that way an enormous cap, umbrella-like, over which the netting hangs. The netting holds this cap in place, and the balloon parachutes to earth. The descent is rapid. The needle of the altimeter paused at forty-three thousand as the nerves in Conway’s muscles died. He found himself unable to grasp the valve-cord with his hands; his arms were like wooden stakes, detached entirely from his shoulders. He could still hear and see, although there was a roaring in his brain. The balloon had stopped its climb, had reached its peak, would go no farther. Conway realized that death was near. Unable to pull the cord that would release the gas, helpless at an altitude where life would perish without oxygen, he would be snuffed out in a few quick minutes when the last cylinder was empty. The rip-cord and the valve-cord dangled temptingly in the basket just in front of him; either would have served his purpose, would have sent the balloon back to earth again. But he could not control his muscles enough to pull either one of them. Every muscle in his arms and legs was uncontrollable. Only his head and neck were still unparalyzed.