"I'm pretty near all in," came from Le Bon in a subdued voice, "but it would take an axe to chop me off this trapeze."
Matt gave a quick look behind him. What he saw nearly froze him with horror.
A cobra—undoubtedly the very snake he had seen in the calliope tent—was twined about two of the electric wires.
The wires, as originally strung, were an inch and a half apart, and insulated. The coils of the six-foot cobra encircled both. As the coils contracted the wires were forced together, and two points of the copper, where the insulating material was worn off, were brought in contact. Thus a short circuit was formed and a bad leak made for the electricity.
At the moment Matt looked the coils of the cobra had loosened, causing the tightly strung wires to spring a little apart, thus restoring the spark to the cylinders. But at any moment the coils might tighten again and cause another short circuit.
As though to crown the terrors of the moment, the cobra's head was lifted from the wires by a third of the anterior length of its body—a favorite position assumed by the cobra in gliding along the earth—and the diamond-like eyes were fastened upon Matt with deadly animosity.
Motor Matt's one thought was this: If he were bitten by the snake before he had manipulated a safe landing, the swift working of the virus in his veins would keep him from doing his duty in preventing injury to the spectators below.
With white face and gleaming eyes, he turned from the cobra and manœuvred to place the aëroplane lengthwise of the roped-off space on the ground.
Before he could place the machine in proper position the motor again commenced to miss fire, and then died all over again. A groan was wrenched from Matt's lips as the machine fluttered downward toward the massed human heads underneath. The groan was echoed by Le Bon.