“It is, indeed, a pity, my friends,” rejoined the doctor. “The clouds are dangerous for us; they contain opposing currents which might catch us in their eddies, and lightnings that might set on fire. Again, those perils avoided, the force of the tempest might hurl us to the ground, were we to cast our anchor in the tree-tops.” “Then what shall we do?” “Well, we must try to get the balloon into a medium zone of the atmosphere, and there keep her suspended between the perils of the heavens and those of the earth. We have enough water for the cylinder, and our two hundred pounds of ballast are untouched. In case of emergency I can use them.” “We will keep watch with you,” said the hunter. “No, my friends, put the provisions under shelter, and lie down; I will rouse you, if it becomes necessary.” “But, master, wouldn’t you do well to take some rest yourself, as there’s no danger close on us just now?” insisted poor Joe. “No, thank you, my good fellow, I prefer to keep awake. We are not moving, and should circumstances not change, we’ll find ourselves to-morrow in exactly the same place.” “Good-night, then, sir!” “Good-night, if you can only find it so!” Kennedy and Joe stretched themselves out under their blankets, and the doctor remained alone in the immensity of space. However, the huge dome of clouds visibly descended, and the darkness became profound. The black vault closed in upon the earth as if to crush it in its embrace. All at once a violent, rapid, incisive flash of lightning pierced the gloom, and the rent it made had not closed ere a frightful clap of thunder shook the celestial depths. “Up! up! turn out!” shouted Ferguson. The two sleepers, aroused by the terrible concussion, were at the doctor’s orders in a moment. “Shall we descend?” said Kennedy. “No! the balloon could not stand it. Let us go up before those clouds dissolve in water, and the wind is let loose!” and, so saying, the doctor actively stirred up the flame of the cylinder, and turned it on the spirals of the serpentine siphon. The tempests of the tropics develop with a rapidity equalled only by their violence. A second flash of lightning rent the darkness, and was followed by a score of others in quick succession. The sky was crossed and dotted, like the zebra’s hide, with electric sparks, which danced and flickered beneath the great drops of rain. “We have delayed too long,” exclaimed the doctor; “we must now pass through a zone of fire, with our balloon filled as it is with inflammable gas!” “But let us descend, then! let us descend!” urged Kennedy. “The risk of being struck would be just about even, and we should soon be torn to pieces by the branches of the trees!” “We are going up, doctor!” “Quicker, quicker still!” In this part of Africa, during the equatorial storms, it is not rare to count from thirty to thirty-five flashes of lightning per minute. The sky is literally on fire, and the crashes of thunder are continuous.