Once upon a sunny afternoon, a young boy named Oliver sat on a grassy hill in his village. He looked up at the sky and dreamed of flying like a bird or a butterfly. But to be really himself, he wanted to fly in a great big balloon filled with hot air.
“Oh, wouldn’t that be a lovely thing to do!” he sighed.
Oliver did not know that just then a great big shadow was falling over him. Two little birdies flying by after a worm, suddenly found they could not see the sun. “Hugh! What is this?” they said, and darted off behind a cloud.
But a little girl with golden hair had suddenly looked up, and seeing nothing but the blue sky and a big shadow, she walked out of her house, danced up to the hill, and peeped over.
“What is it?” she cried. “Oh, oh, oh! It is a balloon!”
And a big balloon it was, and in the middle of it was the thick bag, made of many pieces of thin green cloth sewn together. And the middle of the bag and about the edge of it was the hot air which made the balloon so light.
In the middle of the bag was a hole, into which a big fire was pouring flames. And right across the bag, so that no air could escape, were tied two ropes, which were fastened to a little wooden box below.
In the box was a man. He was a fine man with long whiskers, and he held a rope in each hand. But the two little birdies who had darted off behind the cloud had not thought of all this. How could they? But when they found they could again see the sun, they looked around.
“It really is a funny thing,” said one birdie. “That big puffy thing with wings by itself could fly away to places unknown.”
Just then the wind blew away the little cloud they were all in.
“Look!” said the other birdie. “He is off!” And indeed he was, for with one big puff the balloon sailed away towards the sun.
“Oh, let me fly! Let me fly!” cried Oliver.
“Soon, soon,” whispered the little girl.
She watched the balloon float higher and higher.
“It is the biggest birdie I ever saw,” she said.
“But I did not know birdies had little houses,” and she laughed and laughed, for down, down, far below the hot air bag and the fire there were the little man’s legs and feet sticking out.
“Did you ever see a birdie with such legs?” she said.
And still the balloon kept floating upwards, until everything was below it, the village, the fields, the trees, everything. Far, far away, on the other side of the river, the village looked very tiny. Suddenly grey clouds began to float about the balloon, and the rain came pouring down. The little man’s sleeve, sticking out over the edge of the box, was soaked. Then the clouds began to lift, and he could see down into the river, where the fishies were all tumbling about. With their noses out of the water they thought they must help each other on dry land. And there he was, a little speck standing above the river looking down.
“Hands all back!” he sang out. “Look alive, look alive!” He had on strange clothes, and a big metal cap with rings around it.
Down stairs walked all the fishies with their big noses bobbing up and down. The little man’s cap was too big for him. Right on his mouth and nose it came down. The fishies waited and waited in their little boats. At last one little fish spoke up.
“Is it time yet?” he asked.
“Go right away, Matt,” said a fish much bigger than the rest. “If he waits much longer he will drown.”
Down stairs jumped Matt, and felt with his nose till he found the shoelaces that held the big cap. Then he gave a good tug with his nose, and pop! came off the cap, and the little man took a long deep breath up to his hair.
“How near I was to being cooked fish!” he sang out.
The fishies just looked at each other.
“Shall we tell who helped you, or shall we not?” said one fishie to another.
“I wouldn’t,” answered the other fishie.
But just then the clouds got into a heap again.
“Come, come, come!” said the little man, or I shall be with you in no time. I cannot paddle with my feet and hold the balloon with these ropes. Come, come, come!”
All the fishies jumped up in the air and swam away as fast as they could.
“Give us time to catch our breath,” they said.
But to him in the balloon it seemed to be a big blow of wind, and whiz and hurrah he went right on at a dreadful speed, until down, down, and far away below lightning and thunder were jumping about in the frightfulest way.
“I will run away with myself into a far country,” said the lightning and the thunder, besides any number of ugly things they said only bad boys say when they are angry.
The grey clouds kept slapping up against the big hot air bag. So cracking a hard crust the balloon came down each minute. The middle of the bag caved away, and caved away, and then stood up again with only little grey clouds there. But still it kept floating along all in a heap.
At last it floated a. l. o. t. lower and lower, and at last it was not floating at all, for all of a sudden down, down, straight down it came with a crash that nearly broke the village where Oliver and the little girl were sitting.
Oliver jumped up with a scream “Oh, that is a flying balloon!” and bolted into the village.
But the little girl sat still and watched and watched, and then she had something sticking in her arm, it felt so heavy, and never ceased to feel so heavy until she pulled it out, when something did bang against her dress, and then kept lying outside her dress. She picked up the thing that had done all the mischief.
It was the big metal cap the little man had in the balloon.
“Wasn’t he a funny little man?” said the little girl as Oliver came back.
“Yes, yes he was; I wish he would go up in the hot air bag again,” said Oliver, and out came all the village.
But lo! it was alas! too true; for there were wood, and stone and glass and dirt and much more than was needed everywhere, and only the little metal cap was knocked and dirtied just a little.
His own villagers, with their faces white with fright at the thunder and lightning, felt a. l.o.t. better when they found the same sort of folks who did their work over their heads every day were down on the ground with them.
“I thought we should drown,” said the thunder.
The woodpecker flew away with its head on its back.
“That is no proper thing to fly with,” said Oliver.
“That was the only thing that could fly,” said one of the villagers. “Overshoe instead of overcoat would do for him. The way by which to fly to future fun would be done away with.”
That is all people could get out beside dirt and damage when afterwards they asked him how he managed when the clouds were in a heap.
The next afternoon he got into the balloon and flew to a distant land, where Oliver saw him and the little girl on the bank of the river in a little grass-green garden coming back from a walk.
There was nothing to do but look at the village and say in exactly the same voice, “Wasn’t he a funny little man?”