“And that’s just what he’s up to,” declared Bluff, “for you see he’s turning the bag over now.  There!  He’s struck something, by the way he grabs!  It’s a letter, fellows, as sure as you live!”

“A letter from the skies!  Tell me about that, will you!” whistled Jerry as he bounded ashore and hurried to join Frank.

“What’s doing?” he asked anxiously, as he came to where the other was standing, staring at the piece of paper he held in his hand.

“Remarkable!  Who would ever have believed it?” Frank was saying.

“Well, please take pity on the rest of us, and let us have a little light,” Will broke out with.

“It came from the Kentucky, fellows!” Frank observed, shaking his head, as if he could hardly believe his senses.

“That was the name of the balloon our good friend, Professor Jason Smythe, expected to pilot in the drift from Atlanta to Savannah, to test the air currents.”

This from Jerry, who was equally amazed.

“How do you know?” asked Bluff, of course, since he never accepted anything without abundant proof.

“The name is sewed on the bag.  I found it underneath.  But there was something more, boys—­this letter, written, with others of the same kind, and sent down in the hope that one of them might fall into the hands of some person who would notify the government station at Pensacola or Cedar Keys.”

“Read it to us, Frank!”

“Yes, don’t keep us in suspense.  Besides, if we’re going to do anything, we’d better not waste so much time here,” Jerry remarked wisely.

“Then listen.  Here is what it says, scribbled so that I can hardly make it out: 

* * * * *

“’On board the balloon Kentucky, and drifting toward the gulf.  Our valve refuses to work, and we dare not attempt to land in the dark.  Ballast nearly gone.  We fear we may be swept out to sea.  Please notify station at Pensacola to send assistance—­a tug, if possible.  We may keep afloat a short time if we fall into the gulf.

“‘JASON SMYTHE.’”

* * * * *

The boys looked awed at the remarkable coincidence of that sand bag, possibly thrown out at random, striking their tent; and they who knew the professor so well.

“But, come, fellows!  We must be off!  Leave these few things here till we get back.  To save that daring aeronaut’s life I’d sacrifice ten times as much!” cried Frank as he leaped aboard the boat and started the motor, while the others tore loose the two remaining hawsers.

CHAPTER XXIII

A DASH UPON THE GULF

“How About it, Frank?  Ought all of us to go?” asked Jerry.

“Do you think any one wants to remain behind?” asked the party addressed.

“Speaking for myself, nothing could induce me to stay,” came the reply.