“I thought you said the war was ended, sir,” she said, glancing over at him. “Huns!” he replied explosively. “What can one expect?” “What I am concerned about principally, sir, is what would happen to us if the gas bag were hit by a rifle bullet. Would it be a serious matter for us?” He nodded. “We would be obliged to give up our joy ride and go home.” _Ping! Pock!_ “Hit!” exclaimed the major, glancing up apprehensively at the bag. “I heard it, sir. Are we losing altitude?” “Not much, but we shall be soon. Yes, she’s settling a little now. Look up.” Grace did so and observed a fold in the bag that had not been there before, showing that some gas had escaped. “How long will it take to let us down?” “About twenty minutes. We shall go down faster after a little. Look over your harness and make certain that the lines are not fouled,” he directed, taking his own advice. “Just in case of emergency,” he nodded. “They seem to be all right, sir,” Grace informed him. “You do not think we shall have to use them, do you?” Major Colt shook his head. “Not at this rate of descent.” _Ping! Pock!_ They had been hit again. Grace found herself admiring the shooting, for it really was excellent work, probably done with an automatic rifle in the hands of a former enemy sharpshooter. The major cast an anxious glance up at the swaying bag, then down at that which was slowly assuming the appearance of Mother Earth. He was disturbed, not for himself but because of his passenger. Grace observed his distress. “Don’t worry, Major. You know you said that nothing serious possibly could happen on this voyage, now that the war is over.” “I take it back. The war isn’t over. It will be over mighty quickly, though, if I get my hands on the miserable Boche who is trying to shoot us down.” “Trying to? He already has,” corrected the Overton girl. There were now several folds in the big envelope, the sides of which seemed to be respirating like those of some huge animal, and they were falling altogether too rapidly to leave much hope for what was to come. “We shall be down in a heap soon,” announced the officer calmly. “Mrs. Gray, are you in full possession of your nerve?” “I think so. Why?” “Because you’ve got to jump.” “Oh!” “Captain” Grace could feel a cold sweat breaking out all over her. “Ho--ow--ho--ow high are we?” “About a mile.” She looked over the side into the abyss, and Grace Harlowe was convinced that were she to try that jump her heart would stop beating forever long before she reached the earth. Still, she showed none of her real feelings when she looked up at her companion. “I am ready whenever you give the word, sir. You must tell me just what to do and when to do it. You know it will have been the first time that I ever fell out of the skies. I’ll be a real shooting star, won’t I?” “You will do,” grinned the balloonist. “Get ready. We have no time to lose.” “How about yourself, sir?”