“What is it?” I asked, burning with curiosity.
“Well, you've heard of the chap who's going to walk a rope across the rapids? It will be way up in the air. You can just see it now, down the river there, hanging between the cliffs. Looks like a spider's thread—but, say, it weighs a ton. I've been helping 'em hang it. The old man wants to carry some light, nervy chap on his shoulders when he makes the trip. There's only one that's used to the game, and he's on a spree, and they're stuck—can't find a fellow game enough for the job.”
It is hard to separate a boy from his folly—not all the schools in the world can help much; and for a long time it is like a sword hanging over his head.
I jumped at the offer, for had I not determined for her sake to fear no peril?
“Come on, then,” said Bony. “He'll want to try you, and there's no time to lose.”
I went to Sam and Fannie, and promised to see them at the inn at six.
“Look out for scamps, boy,” Sam whispered. “Keep your eye peeled.”
I assured him that I would do so, and hurried down the high shore with Bony.
I wonder, sometimes, that I let myself go on. Well, there is something deep in it which I do not profess to understand. The spirit of the time was in me, and I was like ten thousand others. Men loved the perils of adventure those days. No speculation was too reckless for them, no hazard too fearful, no enterprise too difficult. The risks of the desert and the plains and the battle-field had schooled us for that kind of business.
Well, I had learned one thing, at least, since the last lesson—that a good heart may be in a rough body. Remember—you children of luxury—that some rather hard-handed people have been my friends.