Army and Navy Weekly — page 29: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ARMY AND NAVY ‘“Now,’’ he said, as he rose from his seat and made a step towards me, ‘‘now where’s that clock?”? As he rose, I rose, and being quick with my fists, I hit him full in the face, and sent him reeling against the wickerwork. But it was only a momentary ad- vantage, for he had whipped out a great clasp-knife before I had recovered from the effort of the blow, and I saw that he meant to stab me, and to throw my body overboard. in that awful minute when the terrible strain on my ears aud my quick respiration told me what a height we had reached, the car, which should have been my safety, was nothing but a haven of death: and as Vasco made a wild stab at me, 1 sprang at the ropes above and clung there. Then he reached out to strike my feet, but I kicked the weapon from his hand, and he could do nothing but try to reach me and curse in two languages. Yet think of my situation. I had grasped the cords which circled the great silken bag, and while I held on to them with a grip which was almost maniacal, I could get no hold for my feet, and [ swung out over that terrible abyss as a man swings upon a trapeze. We passed from the cloud whose enveloping volume hid the terrible sight below somewhat from me, and then the agony which haunts me to this day, and will ever haunt me, began, My weight pulled the balloon toward me, yet all my heart breaking struggles did not give me rest for my feet. To look down I dare not; the horrid words kept singing in my ears: ‘You must fall!?’ I remembered stories of men who had dropped great heights—from the Matterhorn, from Mount Blane yet what were such falls to the one before me? And should I keep consciousness as I went down, or would death come to me ere yet I struck the earth with that erush- ing and splintering thud of flesh and bone? The reflection made me clutch the cords with re- newed freuzy. I tried to dig my hands even into the silk for hold, but could grasp nothing. Vasco’ 1 did not see, but his fierce shouts from time to time forbade all thought of return to the car. I knew that | was getting faint, my arms ached so that every moment I feared I should let go from sheer weariness, the veins of my hands swelled up so that they looked like great cords—and below, ten thousand feet, was the earth, all smiling in the sunlight—the land where my broken body should lie. Nothing could tell you the terror of those moments, or the agony of them as I swayed to and fro, ! At last I think I must have fainted right off, for I enjoyed a moment’s complete unconsciousness—and 1083 when I awoke I was hanging by one hand to the bal- loon, and the other was paralyzed at my side. In my struggles I had wedged my left wrist in be- tween the silk and the cords, and so saved my life when insensibility came to me. Yet this position was worse than the other—I was so weak that I could not struggle up to get both hands upon the netting. The knot which held ine might untie at any moment, and then—— Almost hysterical with the suffering, I should have welcomed any less terrible death than that of the aw- ful fall, and was, indeed, half of a mind to face all and cast myself away from the balloon, when I made a curious discovery. A cord, damp and clammy, was blown against my face. I followed it mechanically with my eye, and saw, that it was the valve-cord communi- cating with the air. Chance and the tilt of the silk had put it into my hands, I gave one pull upon it, and heard ioud cries from the ruffianin the car as I did so; but we began to go down—down, with great lurches which might at any moment have dashed me free, yet down to the ground I coveted with a mad- man’s greed. Then I saw that my inexperience had caused me fu let out too much gas, and that we were descending at a terrific pace while Vasco was hurling out sandbags for his life. What really happened in the descent I don’t know to this day. I remember only that I was hurled through the air with a great swaying which hid. everything from my eyes, and that the downward motion was more delicious than anything I have experienced. Have youever jumped into water from a high place, and felt the delight of that wild careering through the air, that longing to go on falling for ever? Well, that was what |-felt as we rushed toward earth, and in one prolonged and perfect moment trees sprang up from dots, houses from space, even men and women from crawling insects on the green. Then, just for a second, the ballcon paused, and witha fearful bang it left’ me in the middle of a ploughed field. They told me this after, when the doctor set my dislocated shoulder. They picked me up insensible in the field, but Vasco’ lay beside me with his brains dashed out. He had thrown the last bag of sand when we were fifty feet above the ground, and although that had checked the deadly descent, the balloon had. yet struck the earth with a fierce blow, bringing insensi- bility and a dislocated arm—the one wedged in the cord, by the way—to me, and death to Vasco tie Ter- rible, And that’s why heights funk me. Is ita good rea- son, eh? HERE’S A SONG FOR THE WHEEL. Here’s a song for the wheel, With its sinews of steel And its thews which shall mock at the longest day’s journey; None shall equal the speed Of this tireless steed Tho’ he ride with the skill of a knight in the tourney: Here’s a song for the wheel And the dull pulse shall feel All the fervor and glow of its youth come a-throbbing; The blood shall be rife With a riotous life And shall surge in shrunk veins which the years have been robbing. Here’s a song for the wheel, And the vision shall reel As we dash like a flash from the hill to the hollow; The wide welkin shall ring With the welcome we bring To the home of the stream and the haunt of the swallow. Here’s a song for the wheel, As in silence we steal Like the wraiths of the wood ’mid the m‘sts of the morning; But swifter our flight Thro’ the gloom of the night Than the stars which shall shine till the morrow’s fair dawning. = Here’s a song for the wheel While the merry bells peal In achime long and loud for the steed true and - peerless; Like winds of the North His riders go forth In the strength of the strong and the joy of the fearless. —J. H. MBAD, zz Criteria. CoOMmichoooks (C©