“Bless my necktie!” ejaculated the odd man.

“That’s the way to talk!” exclaimed Lieutenant Marbury.  “I’m with you.”

There really was very little danger in proceeding.  The Mars was just as buoyant as before, for more gas had been automatically made, and forced into the uninjured compartments of the bag.  At the same time enough sand ballast had been allowed to run out to make the weight to be lifted less in proportion to the power remaining.

True, the speed would be less, with two propellers instead of three, and the craft would not steer as well, with the torn ends of the gas bag floating out behind.  But this made a nearer approach to war conditions, and Tom was always glad to give his inventions the most severe tests possible.

So, after a little while, during which it was seen that the Mars was proceeding almost normally, the matter of discharging the guns was taken up again.

The weapons were all ready to fire, and when Tom had attached the pressure gauges to note how much energy was expended in the recoil, he gave the word to fire.

The two big weapons were discharged together, and for a moment after the report echoed out among the cloud masses every soul on the ship feared another accident had happened.

For the big craft rolled and twisted, and seemed about to turn turtle.  Her forward progress was halted, momentarily, and a cry of fear came from several of the members of the crew, who had had only a little experience in aircraft.

“What’s the matter?” cried Ned.  “Something go wrong?”

“A little,” admitted Tom, with a rueful look on his face.  “Those recoil checks didn’t work as well in practice as they did in theory.”

“Are you sure they are strong enough?” asked Lieutenant Marbury.

“I thought so,” spoke Tom.  “I’ll put more tension on the spring next time.”

“Bless my watch chain!” cried Mr. Damon.  “You aren’t going to fire those guns again; are you, Tom?”

“Why not?  We can’t tell what’s the matter, nor get things right without experimenting.  There’s no danger.”

“No danger!  Don’t you call nearly upsetting the ship danger?”

“Oh, well, if she turns over she’ll right herself again,” Tom said.  “The center of gravity is low, you see.  She can’t float in any position but right side up, though she may turn over once or twice.”

“Excuse me!” said Mr. Damon firmly.  “I’d rather go down, if it’s all the same to you.  If my wife ever knew I was here I’d never hear the last of it!”

“We’ll go down soon,” Tom promised.  “But I must fire a couple of shots more.  You wouldn’t call the recoil checks a success, would you?” and the young inventor appealed to the government inspector.

“No, I certainly would not,” was the prompt answer.  “I am sorry, too, for they seemed to be just what was needed.  Of course I understand this is not an official test, and I am not obliged to make a report of this trial.  But had it been, I should have had to score against you.