The boys stayed at Rock Creek ten days. At last they were completely out of bait; the little marsh had been scoured clean of frogs, and even the snakes had deserted it; every stone and log had been overturned, for crawfish; they had been driven to bacon-rind, which was too hard, and to dogfish flesh, pressed beef, and bits of bread tied in mosquito netting, all of which were too soft. Their provisions were reduced to a few beans and a can of peaches, and the fish in the fish-box. Their clothing was much the worse for hard service; so were their faces and hands.

They decided, suddenly, to go home.

Thereupon, one morning they ran their faithful trot-lines for the last time; took them up, not without regrets; ate an early dinner, principally of beans and canned peaches; and by noon had their camp broken, which was an easy matter, considering that their blankets and their cooking utensils were about all the outfit that had survived. They cleaned for market the forty fish, mostly cats, imprisoned in their fish-box, and packed them in an old cask, with a chunk of ice, donated by Sam and Joe, on the top under a piece of canvas. At half-past six they were sculling to the government light on the peninsula, with Sam and Joe waving farewell from in front of the shanty, and with Bob, in the stern of the boat, defiantly barking back across the water at the brindled dog, and telling him what he (Bob) would have done had he (Bob) remained only a day longer.

Soon the Harriett hove in sight around the bend below, and swinging in at their bandanna handkerchief signal, stopped for them to hustle aboard.

By eight o’clock they were at Beaufort, and had astonished Commodore Jones by lugging their cask of fish upon his quarter-deck—that is, his fish-market platform—and demanding payment.

As a result of the bargain, they came out gainers fifty cents each, over and above their passage money both ways on the Harriett!

The first half of the long vacation was now gone, and what with swimming and baseball and short jaunts after sunfish and croppies, and other amusements furnished by field and river, the last half also quickly passed.

As a glorious wind-up to the Beaufort youths’ summer of fun, with the closing week of vacation came the county fair. This was an annual event, and was held on grounds maintained for the purpose upon the outskirts of the town; and year to year Beaufort people, old as well as young, looked forward to it with much interest.

Ned went, of course. And this year Bob went, too. It was his burning ambition to go everywhere that Ned did; and in the case of school and church, this created some embarrassment.

Considering that probably it was his first fair, and that there were numerous temptations in the shape of fat pigs with ears delicious to bite, and cows and sheep just prime to be chased, and countless farmers’ dogs ripe to be taught town manners, he behaved very well indeed.

He and Ned covered the entire exhibition. They did not miss a single item, although there were a number of things for which they did not care a bit. They inspected the live-stock pens (where the pigs and cattle nearly drove Bob to distraction); they traversed machinery hall, and poultry hall, and all the other halls; and in particular they explored the hall of arts. Here, worming their way through the crowd they gazed with watering mouth—at least, Ned’s mouth watered, and Bob’s still dripped in memory of the porkine ears elsewhere—upon strained honey, and rich cheeses, and jellies and preserves and cakes and doughnuts and cookies and other marvels into which ambitious good-wives had put their whole hearts. Ned sought this building several times; he had vague hopes that in some way he might encounter the judging committee, and be invited to help “taste.”

A close second in interest to this display was that of floral hall, where the flowers themselves were rivaled in hues by apples and peaches and plums and cherries and pears and grapes, in luscious pyramids.

These two halls were extraordinary places for getting up an appetite!

However, one did not need to depend upon the stock pens and the various “halls” for one’s entertainment. Outside there was endless variety, and the air was constantly athrill with excitement. All day a throng of shows in tents did a loud and urgent business, inviting the people far and near by banjo and gong and word of mouth to come in and see snakes and wild men and bearded women and giants and dwarfs, and the like, whose wondrous figures were outlined in gay colors upon the canvas without. These shows formed a long street, lined with the pictured marvels, and alive with shouts of:

“Hi yi yi yi! Walk in, walk in! Great free show, only ten cents, half a dime!”

“Right this way! Everybody! Come everybody! Biggest show for the money in the world!”

“Stop! Stop! Stop! Don’t miss it! We are the people! A whole circus for only ten cents!”

Every morning there was a parade around the race track of prize-winning animals, where horses pranced, bulls roared defiantly, and donkeys brayed and kicked.

Every afternoon at one o’clock there was a balloon ascension; and at two o’clock began trotting and running races.

Not to miss anything on the fair grounds kept a boy and dog hustling, although they went every day—which they didn’t. Still, by virtue of the addition to his funds of that fifty cents fish money, Ned managed to go oftener than in any previous year.

Most fascinating was the balloon ascension. All through the morning the balloon lay, a mass of inert, dirty, rubbery cloth, on the ground at the spot whence the ascent was to be made. It always was surrounded by curious people, who looked upon it with awe, but who were kept from fingering it by a rope staked about it.

A little after twelve the program of filling it with gas began. Slowly the dull heap inflated, until no longer was it inert; it swayed and struggled, instinct with life.

The aeronaut, arrayed in tights of pink, with a spangled sash about his waist, came out from a little tent, and while all eyes scanned him admiringly, inspected the progress of the work. He was a slender, alert man, with a tawny moustache, and keen glance. Finally the balloon towered like a gigantic pear over the heads of the throng, and strained to be free. It was held by a single rope, passing over the top, one end tied to a stout stick and the other held by sturdy assistants. The rope made a crease in the bulging, puffy dome.

Suddenly the aeronaut, having tested certain fastenings and knots, commanded sharply:

“Let go!”

The persons holding the rope released it. It slipped over the top. Amid shrill cheers and the hum of voices the balloon darted upward, dragging after it a trapeze, and there, below the trapeze, was the aeronaut, hanging by a slender cord. Up the cord he nimbly climbed, like a monkey, and sitting upon the bar of the trapeze, while the balloon continued its dizzy flight, kissed his hand to the gazing multitude beneath. Then he performed a number of acrobatic feats, and later lit somewhere, balloon and all, to appear and repeat the program the next day.

Ned wondered how it felt. He was soon to find out.

From the first he had simply burned to catch hold of the rope, and help keep the balloon down. But other boys who had volunteered had been roughly rejected by the aeronaut, so Ned could only push as near as possible, and be all ready.

It was the closing day of the fair, and the last of the ascensions was about to occur. The balloon was filled and buoyant, and a fresh breeze was causing it to tug unusually at the one rope. The men holding the rope down were almost lifted, at times, off their feet. It was a tug of war between the balloon and them, and the balloon seemed likely to have the best of it.

“Here, you people; some of you give us a hand on that rope, will you?” appealed the aeronaut.

At least half a score—many more than were needed—sprang over into the enclosure; among them were Ned and Bob. Only three or four could find room on the rope—and among these was Ned. Thus, at length, he was where he had wanted to be.

The aeronaut was too busy to pay any attention.

“Now—let go!” he ordered, suddenly.

As the words were leaving his mouth, this is what happened: Wrenched by a sudden fierce gust of wind the stake to which the balloon was anchored was torn from the earth; the people who had been braced at the other end of the rope sat down hard. The balloon jumped, and the heavy stake, swinging inward, caught in the netting; the rope, quickly kinking, knotted under Ned’s shoulders as he sprawled, for a moment, on the ground; and like lightning he was jerked into space.

The accident took only a second. Now Ned was valiantly set, prepared to hold the balloon all by himself, if necessary; next, he was lifted irresistibly, helplessly, into the air, and out of a great uproar of voices he was conscious only of Bob’s despairing, high-pitched yelps, quickly fading away, beneath; and above, the aeronaut’s imperative, tense voice:

“Hang tight! Grab the rope!”

With both hands Ned had at once gripped the rope as high as he could reach. It was wound about his chest, and the free end dangled below. He raised his eyes, and there, over head on the trapeze, was the aeronaut.

“Get that end between your legs—that’s right,” bade the aeronaut. “Can you hold on?”

“Y-y-yes,” quavered Ned, for he was badly frightened, and between the queer sensation of the bottom dropping out of everything, and the pressure of the rope about him, he was nearly breathless.

“You’re all hunky, then,” said the aeronaut, cheerily. “In a jiffy we’ll be back. You can’t fall; just hang on and wait.”

“Y-y-yes,” quavered Ned, feeling like a spider on a thread.

It was very still where they were. He heard a faint hissing, and he wondered what it was. The aeronaut had opened the escape valve in the balloon. Ned did not know it, but they were descending.

“How do you like your free ride?” queried the aeronaut, noting Ned’s drawn face, and trying to divert him from thinking on the peril of the situation.

“P-pretty w-well,” replied Ned.

“Don’t look down! Look at me!” commanded the aeronaut, sternly. “Look at me or I’ll drop on top of you,” he repeated.

Ned, alarmed, kept his eyes glued on those pink-clad legs twenty feet above him.

Yet he could no more help glancing hurriedly beneath him, than after a tooth has come out can you help putting your tongue into the hole.

He looked down for just a fraction of a second—and it was enough. He had seen the world, laid flat; a patch of green, and a patch of yellow, and a thread-like streak of silver; and the gulf that yawned under him made his flesh creep.

Supposing the aeronaut should drop on him! Wouldn’t that be awful! The rope might break, and together they would whirl like stones down through space. He watched the aeronaut anxiously.

“That’s right—watch me,” said the aeronaut. “If you don’t——” And he shook his head meaningly.

All this had required but a few moments, yet to Ned they had seemed hours.

“Where would you like to land?” asked the aeronaut, in a chatty voice. “Back at the fair grounds, or in a corn-field?”

“I don’t care,” faltered Ned. He was getting tired of his strained position.

“Well, I guess we’ll choose the corn-field this trip,” decided the aeronaut—speaking as if they were used to taking such hazardous rides together. “Now, listen here,” he continued, sharply. “We’re getting close to the ground. Hear the leaves rustling? Look down if you want to, and see. Didn’t I tell you? Pretty soon you’ll be touching the top of the corn. Then I’m going to cut your rope with my knife. It won’t hurt you to drop—you’ve often jumped out of trees and things higher than we’ll be—of course you have.”

How near the ground was! Ned could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed to be rushing up at them. Below was a large corn-field, the stiff stalks bending in the breeze.

“When I say ‘three,’ I’ll cut,” warned the aeronaut.

“All right,” responded Ned.

The corn stalks just scraped his toes. The aeronaut put his knife against the rope.

“One—two—three!” he cried.

Ned dropped. Crash, crash, thump! He ploughed through the corn, and brought up with his hands buried to the wrists in dirt. But he was safe on earth! Rather, he was safe in earth! It didn’t matter; he was thankful.

Without delaying to unwind the rope, he started to stand up to look for the balloon and the aeronaut. He caught just a glimpse of them, already careening onward, far adown the field, where they had darted when relieved of his weight—and then he sank back with an “Ouch!”

He had sprained his ankle.

He unwrapped the rope, and carrying it in his hand hobbled toward the road. The aeronaut, who had made a better landing a quarter of a mile away, came rattling up, balloon and all, in a farmer’s wagon, to meet him.

Then they made triumphal entry into town, and Mrs. Miller, astonished at seeing the turn-out stop before her door, learned what a thrilling ride aloft Ned had just made.

First she hugged him, and then she bound his ankle, and then she hugged him again, and then she went off to cry. But she couldn’t stay, and came back with tears still in her eyes.

Next Mr. Miller arrived in haste, and after patting Ned softly on the head, and saying: “Why, Neddie!” coughed violently, and had to turn his back and blow his nose.

Last came Bob, trotting home in great chagrin over having lost track of his master. He stood on his hind legs, and licked Ned all over the face.

Ned was considered very lucky—by older folks because he had escaped with his life; by the boys because he had been up in a balloon; and by himself because the sprain had come at the end of vacation, instead of at the beginning or middle.