At the fair grounds was an aeroplane, but it had not gone up yet, and could not, for the engine was broken, and the man had to mend it before he could make a flight.  So as long as Flossie and Freddie remained in the basket they were safe.

They did not even feel the wind blow, for as they were being carried right along in the gale, being a part of it, so to speak, they did not feel it as they had when standing on the ground.

But, in spite of all this, Flossie’s little heart was beating very fast and tears came into her eyes.

“Oh, Freddie!” she half sobbed, “what you s’pose’s goin’ to happen to us?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.  “But anyhow we’re up in a balloon and we’re having a fine sail.  I like a balloon, don’t you, Flossie?”

Flossie thought it over for a moment.  Now that the first fright was passed she rather enjoyed the quiet, easy motion.  For there were no bumps as in an automobile, and there was no swaying as on the merry-go-round.  It was like flying with the birds, and Flossie had always wanted to be a bird.

“It is—­yes, I guess it is nice,” she said.  “Are we high up?”

“Not very,” Freddie answered.  “Don’t look over the edge or you might fall out of the basket,” he told his sister, as he saw her getting ready to stand on her tiptoes and peer down.  Freddie had looked down once, as had Flossie, when they first felt themselves going up, and it had made him a little dizzy.  He did not want Flossie to fall out.

“Let’s see if we can find something to eat,” suggested the little boy.  “I’m hungry.”

“So’m I,” agreed Flossie.  This was something new to think about.

They poked among the things in the balloon basket.  There were funny objects, the uses of which they could only guess at, but there were also some crackers and sandwiches, as well as a bottle of milk, and some water.

“Oh, we can have a regular camp-out!” laughed Flossie.  “We’ll make believe we’re on a steamer.”

“It’ll be lots of fun,” agreed Freddie.  So they ate and were quite happy, while those they had left behind were very much worried and miserable.

The wind blew harder and harder, but, as I have said, Flossie and Freddie did not notice it.  Soon, however, they began to notice something else, and this was some drops of water.

“Oh, the balloon’s leaking!” cried Flossie, as she felt a damp spot on her red cheek.

Freddie also felt some wet splashes, but he saw at once what they were.

“It’s raining!” he cried.  And so it was.  The storm had broken.

“Raining!” cried Flossie.  “And we hasn’t got any umbrella!”

“We don’t need one,” said the little boy.  “The balloon’s so big it will be like an umbrella over us.”

This was partly true.  The bag of the balloon bulged out over the heads of the children, keeping off most of the rain.  But some blew in sideways over the top of the basket, and the children would have been quite wet had they not wrapped themselves in blankets.  These kept them warm and dry, for one of the blankets was of rubber.