Philip looked where Harry pointed, and saw a workman climbing up a dizzy little stairway half-way to the top of the great glass dome. “If he should fall through, he’d break a lot of glass,” said Philip, reflectively. They left the railway near the mammoth Building of Manufactures, and walked to its northern entrance. Here Mr. Douglass secured their chairs, the young men who pushed them having the time of starting noted upon cards that they kept neatly inside their caps. Wheeling into line, they rode comfortably along through the parting crowd, Philip carrying his kodak upon his knees, ready for business. He had secured a little card, tied to a string, that permitted him to take pictures “with a four-by-five camera only” for that one day. He had paid two dollars for this privilege, and felt bound to use up his roll of forty-eight exposures. At first the boys found their chairs a little uncomfortable; but the guides raised the foot-rests until their short legs could reach them, and after that they found the vehicles as comfortable as an arm-chair in a library. It was a bright, clear day—“Just the day for taking snap-shots,” Philip said enthusiastically; and everything was plainly outlined by sharp contrasts of light and shade. As usual, Mr. Douglass began to talk to his guide, and learned that the young man was a college student who was rolling a chair at the Exposition partly for the money he made and partly for the sake of seeing the Fair and the people from all parts of the world. As Mr. Douglass had worked his own way through college, he was able to give his guide some practical advice, which was gratefully received. [Illustration: “PUCK” BUILDING.] Passing along in front of the Illinois State Building—always conspicuous for its dome—they passed around the Women’s Building, and came to the entrance of the mile of curious structures that made up the Midway Plaisance. But before they had come so far, the boys, too, were talking to their guides, who proved to be other college men. A thing one of them told the boys amused them. The guide said that people, intending to be considerate, would lean far forward when the chair was pushed up a slope. “And that,” he said, “brings all their weight on the little guiding-wheels in front, where there are no springs. Then the wheels turn hard, and we have to ask them to sit back. So, you see, the kindest people sometimes give the most trouble.” [Illustration: THE WATER-WHEEL IN THE JAVANESE VILLAGE.] In spite of this warning, when they were ascending the first bridge—one that led across an opening from the Lagoon—both boys leaned forward, as one does in “helping” a horse up hill. But when the guides laughed, the two boys quickly sank back again.