He hesitated no lodger.
As he turned to the river a sudden and strange wave of cool air
struck down on him from above. Without reasoning he paused. That
pause saved his life. In that swift moment he heard the low creak
of something straining. His eyes pierced the black about him. Was
it a shadow? Something was brushing by him like a great bird asleep
on the wing. Then it was on him.
"Ned?" It was only a whisper but it was enough.
"Elmer, here, quick!"
Even the whisper had brought an instant shot, but the colored boy
had hurled himself toward the voice and an instant later a strong
young arm was about the besieged lad.
It was Ned Napier on the swaying ladder of the Cibola.
"Cut away," came the low quick order and before even the nearby
besiegers could locate the sound Bob Russell, high above, had
slashed the lashings of a bag of ballast. The big balloon sprang
forward, Elmer dangling in the air, and then settled again to the
earth as the desperate colored boy found the last rung of the ladder
and clung fast opposite his rescuer.
"Another, another," called Ned springing up the fragile length of
the doubly laden ladder.
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