"Joe, Joe!" cried the terrified doctor.
But Joe could no longer hear him. The "Victoria," lightened now, resumed her ascent, and reached a height of 1,000 feet; and the wind whistling through the torn silk covering of the balloon, carried them towards the northern side of the lake.
"He is lost!" cried Kennedy. despairingly.
"Lost to save us!" replied Ferguson.
And these brave men felt big tears rolling down their cheeks. They leaned over the side of the car, in the vain hope to distinguish some trace of the unfortunate Joe; but they were too far away.
"What is to be done now?" asked Kennedy.
"We must descend to earth as soon as we can, Dick, and then wait."
After a run of sixty miles, the "Victoria" descended on a deserted spot at the north end of the lake. The grapnels caught in a low tree, and Kennedy fastened them securely.
Night came on, but neither Ferguson nor Kennedy had a moment's sleep.
CHAPTER XXXIII
KENNEDY'S SPORTING
The next morning, the 13th of may, the first thing the travelers did was to search the part of the lake border where they were situated. It was a species of island composed of firm land in the midst of an extensive marsh. Around this piece of terra firma large reeds grew, as high as average European trees, and extended as far as eye could reach.
These trackless swamps rendered the position of the "Victoria" secure; it was only necessary to explore the lake shore; the immense sheet of water expanded towards the east, and nothing was visible on the horizon—neither islet nor continent was to be seen.
The two friends had not yet ventured to speak of their unfortunate companion. Kennedy was the first to impart his surmises to the doctor.
"Perhaps Joe is not lost, after all," said he. "He is a
