UP IN THE AIR

It was nice in there.

“This is a good place to hide after killing a bandit,” Warde Hollister said.

“Look out, you’ll strain your neck,” I said to Dorry, because he was craning his neck looking up.

He said, “I’m trying to decide which car is the one that was at the bottom when we came along. I think it’s that one up top.”

“They’re all the same, only different,” I said.

He said, “If I’m right it means that the wheel went just half way around—one half a revolution.”

“Some highbrow,” I said. “Don’t talk about revolutions, they remind me of history. A half a revolution is better than the French Revolution. Take your feet off me. Do you want a whole car to yourself?”

“It’s pretty crowded in here,” Westy said.

“Well, go up on the top floor if you’re not satisfied,” I told him. “You’ll get a good view up there.”

“How do you know there’s a good view in that car?” Pee-wee said.

“I put it in there when the car was down here,” I told him. “Ask me something hard. Stop rocking, you make me dizzy.”

Of course as soon as I said that they all started rocking the car. That shows how they obey their patrol leader. The car went swinging more and more and the rusty old wheel creaked.

they started singing. Warde Hollister was as bad as any of them, if not worse.

“Have a heart,” I said. “Stop! What is this? A life on the ocean wave or a bee-line hike?”

they all went on. Honest, that patrol is the limit. I’d like to sell it second-hand and get a new one.

“Listen to the ghosts up there,” Westy said. “This old wheel sounds like a nineteen-sixteen Ford.”

I said, “You’ll look like a nineteen-sixteen Ford in a minute if you don’t let up. Take that phonograph horn off my head,” I said to Pee-wee; “or I’ll throw it out of the car.”

Pee-wee started yelling through it, “Only ten cents a ride on the haunted ferris-wheel. A—ll aboard! Only a dime, ten cents!”

We were all shaking, and our heads were wobbling and we were wiping our feet all over each other and the kid was shouting through his crazy megaphone, and I was just going to pull it away from him and throw it out of the car, when all of a sudden he dropped it and whispered, “Look—look! Up there! Look, quick!”

“You’re seeing stars,” I said; “no wonder.”

“Look!” he said. “It’s a—it’s th—th——”

“Now you see what you get from swinging too much,” I said.

“Look—athe—athe—uppp——” he stuttered. “I—sa—thbandidt——”

“No, you don’t,” I said. “No more bandits. Stop rocking, you fellows, will you; or this kid will be seeing some wild Indians.”

They didn’t pay any attention, only went on rocking the car more and more. They had been rocking so hard they couldn’t stop. Pee-wee’s jack-knife was bobbing against his belt, his compass was flopping around, his megaphone was all over our laps, and his cooking set was banging around on the floor. He was pointing up in the air the best he could and saying, “Stpthe car, stpthecar—ts—the bandit—tsthba—a—a—a—a—nt——”

The more I laughed the dizzier I got and the dizzier I got the more I laughed. They were all laughing so hard and they were all so dizzy they couldn’t speak.

“Atta—b—b—oy, kid!” one of them said.

Pee-wee was tumbling all around from one fellow’s lap to another’s and trying to talk. “Lkthba—a—a—a—a—nt——” That was about all I could make of it.

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