"Am I to understand," he went on, taking a look at the gathering crowds, "that you'll break your contract rather than take Haidee up with you?"
"That's what you're to understand!" snapped McGlory. "We'll not hem, and haw, and side-step, not for a holy minute."
"It's this way, Burton," continued Matt. "Haidee can't go up on the trapeze—we have to take a running start, you know, and it would be impossible. She'll have to ride up on the lower plane; then, after we are well clear of the ground, she'll have to drop from the footboard with the trapeze in her hands. If she's not entirely herself, the drop from the footboard to the end of the trapeze ropes will be too much for her. She'll fall."
"But I told you that after she comes out of these things she's as fit as ever," cried Burton. "It's a still day—the best we've had for flying since you joined the show. I don't want to give up the idea."
"And you don't want to see Haidee killed before your eyes, do you?" asked Matt coldly.
"Oh, splash! There'll be nothing of that kind. Ah, look! Here she comes, and she's just as well as ever."
Matt and McGlory turned. Haidee, ready for the ascent, was hurrying toward the machine from the direction of the tent. She moved swiftly and gracefully, and there was nothing mechanical in her actions—as there had been during the parade. The pallor had left her cheeks and the vacant look was gone from her eyes. Matt and McGlory were astounded at the sudden change in her.
"Are you all ready for me, Motor Matt?" she asked eagerly.
The trapeze was ready. That had been attached to the under plane of the Comet and the bar lashed to the foot-rest before the parade. But Matt was not ready.