“Looky here, it can be done, sure; and I’ll tell you how. You set your compass and sail west as straight as a dart, till you find the United States. It ain’t any trouble, because it’s the first land you’ll strike the other side of the Atlantic. If it’s daytime when you strike it, bulge right on, straight west from the upper part of the Florida coast, and in an hour and three quarters you’ll hit the mouth of the Mississippi—at the speed that I’m going to send you. You’ll be so high up in the air that the earth will be curved considerable—sorter like a washbowl turned upside down—and you’ll see a raft of rivers crawling around every which way, long before you get there, and you can pick out the Mississippi without any trouble. Then you can follow the river north nearly, an hour and three quarters, till you see the Ohio come in; then you want to look sharp, because you’re getting near. Away up to your left you’ll see another thread coming in—that’s the Missouri and is a little above St. Louis. You’ll come down low then, so as you can examine the villages as you spin along. You’ll pass about twenty-five in the next fifteen minutes, and you’ll recognize ours when you see it—and if you don’t, you can yell down and ask.” [Illustration: “Map of the trip made by Tom Sawyer Erronott 1850”] “Ef it’s dat easy, Mars Tom, I reckon we kin do it—yassir, I knows we kin.” The guide was sure of it, too, and thought that he could learn to stand his watch in a little while. “Jim can learn you the whole thing in a half an hour,” Tom said. “This balloon’s as easy to manage as a canoe.” Tom got out the chart and marked out the course and measured it, and says: “To go back west is the shortest way, you see. It’s only about seven thousand miles. If you went east, and so on around, it’s over twice as far.” Then he says to the guide, “I want you both to watch the tell-tale all through the watches, and whenever it don’t mark three hundred miles an hour, you go higher or drop lower till you find a storm-current that’s going your way. There’s a hundred miles an hour in this old thing without any wind to help. There’s two-hundred-mile gales to be found, any time you want to hunt for them.” “We’ll hunt for them, sir.” “See that you do. Sometimes you may have to go up a couple of miles, and it’ll be p’ison cold, but most of the time you’ll find your storm a good deal lower. If you can only strike a cyclone—that’s the ticket for you! You’ll see by the professor’s books that they travel west in these latitudes; and they travel low, too.” Then he ciphered on the time, and says— “Seven thousand miles, three hundred miles an hour—you can make the trip in a day—twenty-four hours. This is Thursday; you’ll be back here Saturday afternoon. Come, now, hustle out some blankets and food and books and things for me and Huck, and you can start right along. There ain’t no occasion to fool around—I want a smoke, and the quicker you fetch that pipe the better.”