By the middle of the morning he was on the old
wagon trail and making better time. Some time after two o'clock he
came up over the rise of the last foothills and saw, eight miles
away, the glistening shape which he at once knew was the inflated
balloon. He hesitated a moment and then, unhitching the horses,
mounted one bareback and began a dash for the town. The animals
were tired and worn, and progress was slow, but it beat walking, and
Bob urged them on.
As the young reporter came nearer and the balloon grew more distinct
he knew that it would be a close call. From time to time as the
winded horses dropped into a walk Bob wondered why he was making
such a race. "I can't go with them," he argued. But, like the
trained reporter, be decided that no effort was wasted that gave him
new information. And it was something out of the ordinary to see
the most complete balloon ever made start on a mysterious flight
into the wilderness.
So he spurred up the horses anew. The hot sun reflected from the
yellow sands burnt his face and his muscles were sore, but he stuck
to it.
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