A very serious thought now began to occupy the doctor's mind. He would have given a good deal of this gold to discover a little water. He wanted to replace what had been thrown away during the elevation of the negro; but this was impossible in these sterile plains, and this fear tormented him. Obliged to keep the blow-pipe continually at work, he began to be short of water for drinking purposes, and so made up his mind not to neglect any opportunity to replenish it.
On his return to the car he found it encumbered with the stones thrown in by the avaricious Joe, but he got in without making any remark. Kennedy took his usual place and Joe brought up the rear—not without directing a covetous glance at the treasure in the ravine.
The doctor lit the blow-pipe, the coil was warmed, the current of hydrogen was formed in a few minutes, the gas expanded, but the balloon did not stir.
Joe's face wore an expression of uneasiness, but he said nothing.
"Joe," said the doctor.
Joe, did not answer.
"Joe, do you hear me?"
Joe made a sign that he heard, but did not wish to understand.
"Will you be so good," continued Ferguson, "to throw some of that mineral over?"
"But, sir, you allowed me———"
"I allowed you to replace the ballast—no more."
"Still———"
"Do you wish us to remain in this desert forever?"
Joe cast a beseeching glance at Kennedy, but the Scot had all the appearance of a man who could not interfere.
"Well, Joe."
"Your blow-pipe isn't working yet," said Joe.
"My blow-pipe is working, as you may see, but the balloon will not rise until you have got rid of a little ballast."
Joe scratched his ear and took up a fragment of quartz, the smallest of all. He weighed it, re-weighed it, passed it from hand to hand (it was about 3 or 4 lbs. weight), and threw it over.
The "Victoria" did not stir.
"Hang it, it is not moving yet!" said Joe.
