"I'm a selfish duffer, Minnie," said he. "All the good I've done by frightening you like this is to get myself splendidly warm." "What, have you done nothing to the valve?" "Didn't have time. No, Moore and I must try to get at it from below, though from what I saw before I started to go aloft, it seemed impossible." "But we are descending." "Eh?" "Descending rapidly. See how fast we are diving into that cloud below!" "It's true! We're dropping. What can it mean?" As he spoke we were immersed in a dense white mist, which wetted us through as if we had been plunged in water. Then suddenly the car was filled with whirling snow--thick masses of snow that covered us so that we could not see each other; choked us so that we could hardly speak or breathe. And the cold! the cold! It cut us like knives; it beat the life out of us as if with hammers. This sudden, overwhelming horror struck us dumb. We could only cling together and pray. It was plain that there must be a rent in the silk, a large one, caused probably by the climbing of the men, a rent that might widen at any moment and reduce the balloon to ribbons. We were being dashed along in a wild storm of wind and snow, the headlong force of which alone delayed the fate which seemed surely to await us. Where should we fall? The world beneath us was near and palpable, yet we could not distinguish any object upon it. But we fell lower and lower, until our eyes informed us all in an instant, and we exclaimed together:-- "_We are falling into the sea!_" Yes, there it was beneath us, raging and leaping like a beast of prey. We should be drowned! We _must_ be drowned! There was no hope, none! Down we came slantwise to the water. The foam from the top of a mountain-wave scudded through the ropes of the car. Then the hurricane bore us up again on its fierce breast, and--yes, it was bearing us to the shore! We saw the coast-line, the high, red cliffs--saw the cruel rocks at their base! Horrible! Better far to fall into the water and drown, if die we must. The balloon flew over the rugged boulders, the snow and the foam of the sea indistinguishable around us, and made straight for the high, towering precipice. We should dash against the jagged front! The balloon was plunging down like a maddened bull, when suddenly, within 12 ft. of the rock, there was a thrilling cry from Kenneth Moore, and up we shot, almost clearing the projecting summit. Almost--not quite--sufficiently to escape death; but the car, tripping against the very verge, hurled Phillip and myself, clasped in each other's arms, far over the level snow. We rose unhurt, to find ourselves alone. What had become of our comrade--my childhood's playfellow, the man who had loved me so well, and whom I had cast away? He was found later by some fishermen--a shapeless corpse upon the beach.