“I see large forests ahead of us,” said the doctor; “we are going to sweep along their tops, and we shall grapple to some tree, for nothing would make me think of passing the night below, on the ground.” “But can we not descend?” asked Kennedy. “To what purpose? I repeat that it would be dangerous for us to separate, and, besides, I claim your help for a difficult piece of work.” The _Victoria_, which was skimming along the tops of immense forests, soon came to a sharp halt. Her anchors had caught, and, the wind falling as dusk came on, she remained motionlessly suspended above a vast field of verdure, formed by the tops of a forest of sycamores. CHAPTER FORTY-SECOND. A Struggle of Generosity.—The Last Sacrifice.—The Dilating Apparatus.—Joe’s Adroitness.—Midnight.—The Doctor’s Watch.—Kennedy’s Watch.—The Latter falls asleep at his Post.—The Fire.—The Howlings of the Natives.—Out of Range. Doctor Ferguson’s first care was to take his bearings by stellar observation, and he discovered that he was scarcely twenty-five miles from Senegal. “All that we can manage to do, my friends,” said he, after having pointed his map, “is to cross the river; but, as there is neither bridge nor boat, we must, at all hazards, cross it with the balloon, and, in order to do that, we must still lighten up.” “But I don’t exactly see how we can do that?” replied Kennedy, anxious about his fire-arms, “unless one of us makes up his mind to sacrifice himself for the rest,—that is, to stay behind, and, in my turn, I claim that honor.” “You, indeed!” remonstrated Joe; “ain’t I used to—” “The question now is, not to throw ourselves out of the car, but simply to reach the coast of Africa on foot. I am a first-rate walker, a good sportsman, and—” “I’ll never consent to it!” insisted Joe. “Your generous rivalry is useless, my brave friends,” said Ferguson; “I trust that we shall not come to any such extremity: besides, if we did, instead of separating, we should keep together, so as to make our way across the country in company.” “That’s the talk,” said Joe; “a little tramp won’t do us any harm.” “But before we try that,” resumed the doctor, “we must employ a last means of lightening the balloon.” “What will that be? I should like to see it,” said Kennedy, incredulously. “We must get rid of the cylinder-chests, the spiral, and the Buntzen battery. Nine hundred pounds make a rather heavy load to carry through the air.” “But then, Samuel, how will you dilate your gas?” “I shall not do so at all. We’ll have to get along without it.” “But—” “Listen, my friends: I have calculated very exactly the amount of ascensional force left to us, and it is sufficient to carry us every one with the few objects that remain. We shall make in all a weight of hardly five hundred pounds, including the two anchors which I desire to keep.”