You can never know in this world what a bad thing is till it happens to you or somebody you take an interest in. It is all very well to talk about other people's misfortunes, and to set them down as pleasantries and amusing incidents; but it is another thing when you are in them yourself.
When Father was a little boy—he wasn't much of a boy, I reckon, for he had to work pretty early—and when he wished to hear the adventures of other persons he always said: "Now don't tell me no more about them paper gentlemen; tell me about somebody I know."
It is the same way with most of us. We are curious concerning other people's troubles, up to a certain point; but there comes an instant when we prefer our own affairs. That instant is when the other person's troubles begin to interfere with our own comfort or safety.
The accident that befell Tom, which is the subject of this story, happened after the events told of in "Tom Sawyer, Detective". Tom had made some practical jokes in his time, and he had been the victim of some, too; but the misfortunes he met with in this affair were of a different sort.
It began with a balloon. There had been a great exhibition in St. Louis of flying-machines and aeronautic devices, and the famous aeronaut Mr. Nebb, who was engaged to make an ascent in a large balloon, invited Tom and some others to see the exhibition and to attend the ascent.
Tom went. He took his friend Huck Finn, whom he had made over into a gentleman, and his cousin Sid, and the oil-man, who was a stranger but who had been introduced to Tom and was very hospitable. They went with eager interest and expectation.
The ascent was made. The balloon rose like a great bird; the people cheered; the town was a little spot, and the river was like a silver string. Tom felt the enthusiasm of the moment, and, like all great souls, he was prompt to make sacrifices for the benefit of art and science.
There was an accident—one of those sudden and unforeseen calamities that wait for no man. The balloon went to the south, and the wind that filled its robe was a treacherous and vengeful wind. Before the audience knew what had happened the balloon had been carried away, and the voices of the spectators began to thin and die.
Mr. Nebb and the aeronauts did their best, and Tom did his part. Huck did his. Sid screamed like a child. The oil-man behaved like a hero. They were borne over country and water, and as the hours went by they all felt more and more that they were engaged upon a real adventure.
By and by, when the novelty of excitement had worn off, they came to consider their situation with such cold judgment as they could summon. The balloon had lost its ballast; the provisions were scanty; the compass was untrustworthy; and night, with its stealthy dangers, was gathering about them.
They kept together like good shipmates. Tom told stories and made plans; Huck criticized them and suggested bolder ones; the oil-man smoked and conserved his strength; Mr. Nebb consulted his instruments. They lived from hope and from the small stewards' pantry of the balloon.
When the balloon finally descended it was in a place where no white man had been before, and there they found wonders that puzzled their philosophy and excited their senses. Strange animals, strange people, and strange customs made their brain whirl and their judgment stagger.
Tom, true to his nature, was always ready to assume the hero's part. He organized explorations, arranged defenses, and told the rest how to behave. His plans were not always practical, but they were enthusiastic, and that counts for much in a tight place.
The incidents that followed were of the sort that make a tale of travel and adventure interesting to boys and not wholly distasteful to grown folks. There were narrow escapes, comic misunderstandings, and noble deeds; there was the mingling of courage and humor that marks the best of Mark Twain's stories.