With the weather all against him if his flight should be delayed, Conway decided, at two o’clock, to fly the _Marie IV_ into the subzero temperatures of the upper air with an ordinary clock. Kisner tried in every way to dissuade him, but without success. Kisner persisted, like a mother who argues with a wayward son, until the other man turned on him impatiently. “I know what I’m about!” Conway snapped. “Get the crew and put the _Marie_ outside. If I don’t go today I’ll not have another chance before spring!” “But see here, Con,” Kisner said desperately. “That clock’ll stop and you’ll run out of oxygen up there! You’ll die before you can get down! Dammit, you don’t have to kill yourself trying to get that record!” But Kisner saw that Conway was in earnest and he reluctantly put the crew to work. They hauled the balloon outside the hangar, took the place of the sandbags that had held it to the ground. Conway came presently and shoved through the crowd of curious people, climbed into the basket and put on his fur-lined helmet and his parachute. He made a last-minute inspection of the oxygen equipment and spoke quietly to Kisner, who stood close by. He was in a good humor now that the flight was definitely under way. “Tell that little cuss I’m going to break his neck when I get down,” he said, referring to Welkfurn. “Going to get a dub and run him all over this flying field!” Kisner nodded gravely. He was in no mood for joking. He was tempted to try again to persuade Conway to postpone the flight, but he knew that it was useless. He reached up and grasped the furry paw that was extended down to him. “Good luck, old man,” he said, keeping his voice steady with difficulty. “Call me up as soon as you get down and I’ll come after you.” But Conway didn’t notice his agitation. “Thanks,” he replied absently. The _Marie_ took off for altitude at two twenty-three that afternoon. The wind had died down during the day from a fitful, biting breeze to a dead calm; overhead the clouds had thickened perceptibly. The weather was ideal. Cold air, dry and heavy; the balloon would go up into the higher reaches in a steady climb that would take it to forty thousand feet within an hour--or sooner, if Conway wanted it. But Conway had no particular desire for speed. Rather, he wanted to go up slowly so that the effects of the change of atmospheric pressure on his body would not be acutely uncomfortable; he wanted to go up slowly, also, so that he might study the conditions of the air at varying elevations. When once at the top of his climb, with the record his, he wanted to remain there several minutes--as long as his oxygen supply would permit--to study the conditions there. For while he wanted the altitude record, he also wanted to make his flight of value to other flyers.