It was
several feet below mine. No; it was not--it was several yards below
mine. Now he was looking up toward us, shouting out his words, with his
hands funneled about his mouth for a speaking trumpet. And at every word
he uttered he shrank into himself, growing shorter and shorter.
It was not that we seemed to be moving. We seemed to be standing
perfectly still, without any motion of any sort except a tiny teetering
motion of the hamper-basket, while the earth and what was on it fell
rapidly away from beneath us. At once all sense of perspective became
distorted.
When on the roof of a tall building this distortion had never seemed to
me so great. I imagine this is because the building remains stationary
and a balloon moves. Almost directly below us was one of our party,
wearing a soft hat with a flattish brim. It appeared to me that almost
instantly his shoulders and body and legs vanished. Nothing remained of
him but his hat, which looked exactly like a thumb tack driven into a
slightly tilted drawing board, the tilted drawing board being the field.
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