CHAPTER IV.
BRAVO, CANUCK!
To falter, to lose his grasp upon the cold iron of the immense wheel means instantaneous death, since he is now high above the battlements of the Midway, whose loftiest structure does not dare to mount on a level with the monster shaft of the Ferris wheel.
Craig is a thorough athlete, his muscles trained by a generous indulgence in the manly sports for which fair Montreal is noted. With only an Indian hunter as a companion he has crossed mountains of snow and rivers of ice on snowshoes, in search of the great moose, or the caribou of Newfoundland. As a skater he has held a championship medal several seasons. Modest in his manner, he makes no boast of these things, but those who know him understand the power of that well-knit frame.
It may be safely said that never before in all his life has Aleck Craig experienced such a queer sensation as when halfway between thetwo cars, and clinging to the iron framework he feels a throbbing sensation that tells him the giant wheel is again in motion.
Above, below, around him is space; his only hold upon the cumbersome iron band so icy cold. Hushed are the myriad sounds from the festive Midway now, so far as his ear is concerned; he only hears the steady clamp—clamp of the revolving wheel, and the shrieks of feminine terror that continue to come from the car just above.
Not one instant does he allow the thought of personal danger to handicap his efforts. He has started in this desperate game and must see it through to the end. Not that he expects any glory to descend upon his head on account of what he may do. Wycherley has confessed to a fear lest the professor actually does an injury to one or more of the ladies in the car, and it is this that has urged the Canadian to undertake this terrible risk. The days of chivalry are not entirely gone, even though we live in the matter-of-fact, prosaic nineteenth century.
In one way Craig’s task is not so difficult—he finds a means of holding on with hands andknees, for there are protuberances upon the wheel which he is quick to utilize.
He casts one look down, but no more. That glance will never be forgotten until his dying day. The Midway seems a mile below, the moving wheel causes a peculiar sensation to pass over him, a dizzy feeling, as though the earth were receding, and some mighty bird were carrying him up, up, higher and higher each second.
After that one terrible experience Craig dares not turn his head again, though there seems to be a wonderful alluring feature, a sort of deadly fascination, about the scene below. Perhaps others have felt something of this same sensation in another form, concerning that same wonderful Plaisance.
Now he has reached the bottom of the car, which is just about beginning to move upon the upper half of the arc. This favors his desperate plans, for the door is within his reach as he hangs upon the massive tire of this most stupendous of wheels.
The cries coming from the car are agonizing in the extreme. Surely the professor must have left the boundary of sham and enteredupon the mad reality. He can be heard roaring there like an enraged tiger. Several of the windows have been broken, but the wire netting prevents him from casting himself out. He raves like a madman. Presently his mood may take another turn—prevented from leaping into space by the wisdom of the Ferris wheel management in fastening the doors and screening the windows of the cars, he may attempt violence upon his fellow-voyagers through the air. What may not a crazy man do when mania is upon him?
Craig shuts his teeth hard together, and does not allow this dread to distract his attention from the serious business before him. It so happens that just as he gains a position where the door is within his reach, the wheel ceases to move.
This gives him an opportunity of which he is quick to take advantage. Although the door cannot be opened from the inside, it is not hard to open from the outside.
As he succeeds in opening it the young Canadian gazes upon a scene that arouses all the fighting blood in his veins, for like his cousins across the water in that “tight littleisland,” he will never look on inactive when a brave heart is needed along with a stout arm to protect the weak.
The crazy professor is a terror—his hair is in a condition of chaos that would drive a Yale football player green with envy, and delight the soul of an erratic pianoforte player of the Polish type. Upon his face there has come a wild look that is not assumed. They played with fire when they selected the professor to engage in this game, for it becomes a reality to him.
There he is, wildly flinging his long arms about his head, thundering phrases in Latin and Greek and Sanscrit, with Heaven alone knows what grammatical correctness, and raging from one end of the car to the other, just as the lions in Hagenbeck’s cages do while looking at the crowds below.
Whenever he approaches a group of the women there rises a series of the most ear-piercing shrieks, and the fluttering that followed would remind a sportsman of a covey of partridges flushed by his dog.
In this one glance Craig sees volumes. He notices one woman dressed in a garb thatwould proclaim her a Sister in some sacred convent, telling her beads with feverish eagerness, and whenever the mad professor passes by swinging his arms like great flails, she holds in front of her a small crucifix, as though confident that bodily harm cannot reach the one who crouches behind this emblem of the Church.
One alone of all the dozen occupants of the car does not engage in these outbursts of terror. Aleck notices this fact and it makes a deep impression upon him.
This is Dorothy. She stands there, white of face it is true, and doubtless trembling in every limb, as is quite natural, considering the terrible situation, but not a sound escapes her lips, nor does she fly to the other end of the car when the cause of all this turmoil approaches.
Dorothy has traveled far and wide, and this alone has given her a spirit of bravery and independence far beyond the usual run of her sex.
The scene is appalling, and no one can tell how it may end, but thus far she holds her ground. Perhaps the spirit that causedSamson Cereal to run away with the mother has descended to the daughter. She does not appear to be armed, and yet Aleck notes that one hand is concealed from view amid the folds of her rich silken dress. It is not unusual for the American girl of to-day to own a revolver. They are made of the finest of steel, exquisitely fashioned, and look more like a toy than a deadly weapon.
He does not wait; all these things are before him, so that one sweeping glance shows him the whole. Then his feet touch the floor of the car, and at the same moment the great triumph of American engineering again moves, the iron circle with its dangling cars starting upon its journey.
The professor rattles the other door viciously, and such is his savage fury that he threatens to demolish the framework. Then with a roar and a volley of French expletives he turns to make another rush upon the opposite end of the car.
In thus turning he finds himself face to face with a man. The professor heeds him no more than he would a troublesome fly that buzzes before his face. His long arms saw theair like those of a Dutch windmill, and giving his wildest whoop he starts to clear a passage to the other terminus, as though he sees the open door and means to escape by it.
In so doing he counts without his host, for Aleck Craig blocks the way. An experienced boxer, he notes the approach of the wizard with a feeling of disdain. It is almost like boy’s play to encounter such an easy mark, but the safety of those in the car demands prompt action.
Hence he puts considerable force into the blow he sends straight from the shoulder. The professor lands on his back in the middle of the car, the most surprised man in seven counties. He does not know what has happened—perhaps imagines he butted his head against some projection, and makes a feeble, bewildered attempt to gain his feet, but Craig pushes him back to the floor, and deliberately sits down upon the prostrate form of the terror.
“Ladies, will one of you kindly close the door,” he says, and it is Dorothy who does as he requests, for besides the hooded Sister, still telling her beads, she is the only one in thatpanic-stricken company not uttering little shrieks and gasps of real or assumed terror.
“There is no longer any danger, ladies. I beg of you to be calm. Lie still, sir,” giving the professor, who has made a movement as if about to rise, a sudden shake, to remind him that he has met his Waterloo.
Looking up Aleck Craig is conscious of the fact that he is now the cynosure of admiring eyes. Coming thus unexpectedly to their relief, it is but natural that these women should look upon his manly figure, his bronzed features, and curly hair with a kindled interest. What thrills him is the look he sees upon the face of Samson Cereal’s daughter; the expression of fear is gone, and in its place comes one of puzzled conjecture, then a sudden rosy blush.
Dorothy has recognized him.