The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

THE BRUTE, THE LADY, AND I. The roar of the wind and the shouts of the mob died away. Fearfully I looked down. A gray-brown plane of fields, or- chards, and farmhouses swept a hundred feet below me. I had never possessed a good stomach for high places. For a moment I felt a well-nigh irresistible desire to let go and have it over. Then, with a desperate ef- fort, I raised myself until my eyes were on a level with the rim of the car. The girl stood as though frozen in her place. Across the car from me a great form was climbing in. It was Brute Flanagan. Whether he had gone to the rescue of the girl, or whether the car had struck him as it caromed away and he had clung instinctively to it as had I, I do not know to this day. As I watched him, he squeezed be- tween the ropes suspending the car from the gas-bag and tumbled to the floor of it. With a final effort, I surmounted the bags of ballast and tumbled on top of him, where I lay, teo weak from fright to rise. Il. THE Brute stirred uncomfortably be- neath me, and having recovered my breath, I got gingerly to my feet and, clasping a supporting rope in each hand,. stood beside the girl. No sound came to my ears at that great height, and I had no sense of motion. We floated peacefully through space, with the earth a great bowl, below. To my amazement and delight, I found that I was not even dizzy as I looked out into space. We were in a world of our own, and one so much at odds with the one we had just left that I wondered if this were not indeed death and, by some chance, I had gone to heaven. A low exclamation from the girl brought me, if not to earth, to a more proper conception of our situation. She was pointing ahead and below, and I saw Stretching away to the horizon, a great, blue-gray blanket. 2 109 ‘What is it?” I asked. She answered: ‘ The lake.” I looked back in the direction whence we had come. The green-brown land was fading rap- idly astern. The scene of our. departure was indistinguishable. Houses were chil- dren’s blocks; groves were lawns. If the tornado still raged on, there was no evi- dence of it from the heavens. “An hour,” I suggested, “‘ and at this rate we will be across and over some Ca- nadian hamlet.” ‘* Yes,” she replied gravely, “if we can hold this level.’’ “What do you mean by that?” I que- ried. I felt very much as a landlubber might asking his first senseless questions of the captain of a liner. “This ascent was planned for two per- sons,” she explained. ‘‘ My father and myself. To be sure, we had hoped to make a record flight, and the bag is filled to its greatest capacity. Yet, there is some difference between the weight of my father and the combined weight of you and the other—gentleman.” As she spoke she looked behind her at the great figure of the Brute, and I fol- lowed her gaze. He was sitting now with his back to the side of the car. His face was green- ish-yellow in color, and his eyes still re- tained an expression of fright. Somehow it increased my enjoyment of this strange ride to know that he was not enjoying it. The girl shrugged her shoulders and turned away. The contrast between his great body and his small spirit made him more repulsive than ever. She took up the conversation where she had left it. © ‘““T have already released most of the ballast, saving only enough for an emer- gency. The next few minutes will deter- mine whether we will carry across or not.” It soon became apparent that the girl’s fears were groundless. I doubt if she realized the terrific rate at which we were traveling, and its effect on our buoyancy, EORNICLOOOKS (E@)