There he was， astride the sandbag and holding on tothe rope for dear life. A puff of wind heeled the balloonslightly， and he swung out into space for ten or a dozenfeet， and back again， fetching up against the tight canvaswith a thud which even shook me， thirty feet or morebeneath. I thought to see him dashed loose， but he clungon and whimpered. They told me afterward， how， at themoment they were casting off the balloon， the little fellowhad torn away from his sisters， ducked under the rope，and deliberately jumped astride the sandbag. It has alwaysbeen a wonder to me that he was not jerked off in the firstrush.
Well， I felt sick all over as I looked at him there， andI understood why the balloon had taken longer to rightitself， and why George had called after me to ride herdown. Should I cut loose with the parachute， the bagwould at once turn upside down， empty itself， and beginits swift descent. The only hope lay in my riding her downand in the boy holding on. There was no possible way forme to reach him. No man could climb the slim， closedparachute； and even if a man could， and made the mouthof the balloon， what could he do？ Straight out， and fifteenfeet away， trailed the boy on his ticklish perch， and thosefifteen feet were empty space.
I thought far more quickly than it takes to tell all this，and realized on the instant that the boy’s attention mustbe called away from his terrible danger. Exercising all theself-control I possessed， and striving to make myself verycalm， I said cheerily：
“Hello， up there， who are you！”
He looked down at me， choking back his tears andbrightening up， but just then the balloon ran into a crosscurrent，turned half around and lay over. This set himswinging back and forth， and he fetched the canvasanother bump. Then he began to cry again.
“Isn’t it great？” I asked heartily， as though it was themost enjoyable thing in the world； and， without waitingfor him to answer： “What’s your name？”
“Tommy Dermott，” he answered.
“Glad to make your acquaintance， Tommy Dermott，” Iwent on. “But I’d like to know who said you could ride upwith me？”
He laughed and said he just thought he’d ride up forthe fun of it. And so we went on， I sick with fear for him，and cudgeling my brains to keep up the conversation. Iknew that it was all I could do， and that his life dependedupon my ability to keep his mind off his danger. I pointedout to him the great panorama spreading away to thehorizon and four thousand feet beneath us. There lay SanFrancisco Bay like a great placid lake， the haze of smokeover the city， the Golden Gate， the ocean fog-rim beyond，and Mount Tamalpais over all， clear-cut and sharp againstthe sky. Directly below us I could see a buggy， apparentlycrawling， but I knew from experience that the men in itwere lashing the horses on our trail.
But he grew tired of looking around， and I could see hewas beginning to get frightened.
“How would you like to go in for the business？” I asked.
He cheered up at once and asked： “Do you get good pay？”
But the “Little Nassau，” beginning to cool， had startedon its long descent， and ran into counter currents whichbobbed it roughly about. This swung the boy around prettylively， smashing him into the bag once quite severely. His lipbegan to tremble at this， and he was crying again. I tried tojoke and laugh， but it was no use. His pluck was oozing out，and at any moment I was prepared to see him go shootingpast me.
I was in despair. Then， suddenly， I remembered how onefright could destroy another fright， and I frowned up athim and shouted sternly：
“You just hold on to that rope！ If you don’t I’ll thrashyou within an inch of your life when I get you down onthe ground！ Understand？”
“Ye-ye-yes， sir，” he whimpered， and I saw that the thinghad worked. I was nearer to him than the earth， and hewas more afraid of me than of falling.
“Why， you’ve got a snap up there on that soft bag，” Irattled on.
“Yes，” I assured him， “this bar down here is hard andnarrow， and it hurts to sit on it.”
Then a thought struck him， and he forgot all about hisaching fingers.
“When are you going to jump？” he asked. “That’s what Icame up to see.”
I was sorry to disappoint him， but I wasn’t going tomake any jump.
But he objected to that. “It said so in the papers，” hesaid.
“I don’t care，” I answered. “I’m feeling sort of lazytoday， and I’m just going to ride down the balloon. It’smy balloon and I guess I can do as I please about it. And，anyway， we’re almost down now.”
And we were， too， and sinking fast. And right there andthen that youngster began to argue with me as to whetherit was right for me to disappoint the people， and to urgetheir claims upon me. And it was with a happy heart thatI held up my end of it， justifying myself in a thousanddifferent ways， till we shot over a grove of eucalyptus treesand dipped to meet the earth.
“Hold on tight！” I shouted， swinging down from thetrapeze by my hands in order to make a landing on my feet.
We skimmed past a barn， missed a mesh of clothesline，frightened the barnyard chickens into a panic， and rose upagain clear over a haystack—all this almost quicker than ittakes to tell. Then we came down in an orchard， and whenmy feet had touched the ground I fetched up the balloonby a couple of turns of the trapeze around an apple tree.
I have had my balloon catch fire in mid air， I have hungon the cornice of a ten-story house， I have dropped likea bullet for six hundred feet when a parachute was slowin opening； but never have I felt so weak and faint andsick as when I staggered toward the unscratched boy andgripped him by the arm.
“Tommy Dermott，” I said， when I had got my nervesback somewhat. “Tommy Dermott， I’m going to lay youacross my knee and give you the greatest thrashing a boyever got in the world’s history.”
“No， you don’t，” he answered， squirming around. “Yousaid you wouldn’t if I held on tight.”
“That’s all right，” I said， “but I’m going to， just the same.
The fellows who go up in balloons are bad， unprincipledmen， and I’m going to give you a lesson right now to makeyou stay away from them， and from balloons， too.”
And then I gave it to him， and if it wasn’t the greatestthrashing in the world， it was the greatest he ever got.
But it took all the grit out of me， left me nerve-broken，that experience. I canceled the engagement with thestreet railway company， and later on went in for gas. Gas ismuch the safer， anyway.
