Barlow. Steady, Bob; get in the light.
Mrs. Perkins. Suppose it catches his neck?
Perkins. This beats the Wild West Show.
[A crash.
All. He’s got him.
[All rush out, except Perkins.
Perkins. Oh yes; he learned in a minute, he did. Easy! Ha, ha! Gad! it almost makes me forget my pain.
Enter all, asking. “Is he hurt? How do you feel?” etc. Yardsley has rope-end in right hand; noose is tied about Bradley’s body, his coat and clothing are much the worse for wear.
Mrs. Bradley. Poor, dear Edward!
Bradley (weakly kissing her). Don’t m-mind me. I—I’m all right—only a little exhilarated—and somewhat—er—somewhat breathless. Feel like a bird—on toast. Yardsley, you’re a brick. But that pavement—that was a pile of ’em, and the hardest I ever encountered. I always thought asphalt was soft—who said asphalt was soft?