Little looked up and turned pale.

The balloon, at what I shall call the pointed end of the Bologna sausage, was evidently bursting from increased pressure.

The gas was escaping, and already they were beginning to descend.

Little was resigned but firm.
"If the silk gives way, then we are lost.

Unfortunately I have no rope nor material for binding it." The woman's instinct had arrived at the same conclusion sooner than the man's reason.