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 the two
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 and knees, 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 entered upon 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 little island,” 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 that would 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 caused Samson 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 the air 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 that panic-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.