The little balloon was now completed, and the demon and his affairs were forgotten. The balloon was rather clumsily constructed, it is true; but it promised to float well, and the cousins were enchanted with it. They bore it tenderly out into the back-yard, arranged it for flight, and were about to fire the prepared cotton batten, when Henry cried excitedly: “Wait, Will! Wait a minute! I’m going to fix a car under it! I see a little old straw-hat of the baby’s here in the yard, and I’ll just hitch it on for a car. Of course; what’s a balloon without a car?”

Henry hastened to do so, and the little bonnet was tied fast to the balloon, immediately under the gas-producing apparatus. Then he set fire to the batten; very soon the[157] balloon quivered; and then up it rose, a really pretty sight. The boys shouted, cheered, and flung out their arms in wild delight.

It rushed up like a rocket—it flew along—it soared—it became smaller and smaller—the “car” took fire—the whole balloon blazed—it wavered—it fell headlong—it lit on the roof of a public building—it set it on fire!

The boys had watched its ascent with enthusiasm, cheering lustily; but when it took fire, their enthusiasm cooled, and in proportion as the balloon burned brighter, their hearts grew heavier. When it fell, their spirits fell with it. They grew sick with fear on seeing flames burst forth on the roof of the building, and looked at each other in utter helplessness. Henry was the first to collect himself, and he gave the alarm by shouting “Fire!” in thundering tones.

Several householders, Mrs. Mortimer among them, flew to their doors at the dreadful cry of fire, to see whether their own buildings were the ones menaced. The fire was soon pointed out; the fire-engines rushed gallantly to the rescue; the hoses were adjusted; and the firemen sprang to their work. The two boys got over their terror sufficiently to throng to the scene of action. To Henry it was a familiar sight; but to Will it was entirely new, and he enjoyed it, in spite of himself.

The fire was soon extinguished, and but little harm was done to the building. The whole affair, from the time when Henry attached the “car” to his balloon till the last spark was extinguished, took up only a few minutes.

As the cousins returned to the house, they felt that all was not over yet.

“That’s the worst thing, almost, that ever happened to me,” said Will.

“Never mind it, Will; its over now, and not much harm done. I wouldn’t let that trouble me a minute. We boys in the city, don’t count that as much; we’re used to all sorts of horrible things happening to us; we get hardened to it; we expect it. But it was all that dismal straw-hat; that did the mischief. If I hadn’t flung it into the back-yard the other day, our balloon might be soaring[158] around yet! Well, it’s burnt up now, from stem to stern.”

“Yes, Henry; but it isn’t a very good way to keep out of mischief; it—it makes me feel very miserable. George would say we are incendiaries.”

“Who’s George? Somebody that is nobody, I guess. Well, at any rate, that isn’t the word. Giantize is a great deal better. To giantize, Will, is to eat like a giant; to do big things; to astonish the natives; to be a hero; to rescue captives. We’ll giantize to-morrow night when we rescue the man—if there is a man—in the Demon’s Cave. Some day, Will, I’ll take you to a bookstore, and show you a weekly paper with continued stories in it, and continual heroes in the stories. These heroes are very, very strong, and good, and brave, and handsome; and they make it a settled business to giantize.”

“Oh, I know what those papers are, Henry; I know a Mr. Horner that takes two or three of them; and he gets so excited over the stories that sometimes he can’t sleep at night. But his boy Jim—Timor we call him—is the biggest coward that ever ran away from a lapdog.”

The boys sat down to dinner with little appetite. Mr. Mortimer made inquiries about the fire, and they acknowledged their share in it. To say that Mr. Mortimer was vexed would hardly express the state of his feelings. In the afternoon a deputation of the City Fathers waited on him, and he and the two cousins were closeted with them some time. What passed between them was never made known; but as they took their departure one of them observed: “Yes, that makes it all right. Well, I never realized before that a straw-bonnet would set fire to a roof. I must tell my boys never to make balloons; or, at least, to make them without cars. By the way, what was it that you dipped in alcohol to make the gas?”

Will was too confused to make a reply. Not so Henry. “Cotton batten, sir, is what we used,” he said, “but a sponge is better still.”

After they had gone, he said to Will: “Now he’ll get himself into trouble! His boys are always trying experiments; and if he tells them about our balloon, they’ll go to work and make one that’ll set the whole place on fire![159] Oh, they’re awful boys! Only a few days ago they poisoned off a dog with some dangerous gas, and drove the house-keeper’s cat into hysteric fits. Why, Will, their mother can’t keep a tea-kettle three weeks before they swoop down on it; and turn on a full head of steam; and plug up the spout; and batten down the lid; and blow it all to nothing. Oh, that man will have his hands full of sorrow before long.”

“But what does their mother say about it? Surely, she doesn’t like to keep on buying new tea-kettles! And their father,—doesn’t he get mad?”

“Oh, as long as the boys don’t get hurt, their parents think they are smart; and they tell everybody that goes into the house that when the boys grow up, they will revolutionize chemistry and remodel the steam-engine.”

Then the two talked of exploits that they had achieved; adventures that had befallen them; and perils through which they had passed. Henry said that he had had the mumps, the measles, and the small-pox; Will said he had had the sore throat, the chicken-pox, seven boils, lots and lots of warts, and the measles, too. Henry said a circus horse once kicked him hard, and a circus monkey once stole his handkerchief; Will said he once shot a cat with his father’s gun, and it fled away and lived all winter with the bullet in its heart. Henry said that was nothing; he once shot a deer, and if somebody else hadn’t come along and killed it, he believed his ball would have killed it. Will said he could beat that, for he was nearly drowned once. Then Henry said he one day drank so much water that he nearly died; and the next day those smart boys that he had spoken of set him on fire, and scorched his coat till he couldn’t recognize it.

Then they talked of other things, and Will told his cousin all about his s............