The performer stopped and began to sway a little, his rod moving up and down. I tightened my grip and breathed faster. I remember well the play of his muscles under me. I could feel a change in their action--he was going backward, but very slowly. The roar of the water was diminishing, and stopped as suddenly as it began. We were back on the earth again, and I was very glad and a little shaky. Well, the Frenchman said that I would do, and half a dozen men shook my hand and made me proud with their compliments. The interpreter told me that we would “cross the bridge” at three, and that I should wait there and have my dinner with them. The big Frenchman put on his clothes and drove away in a carriage. Those hours of waiting were a great trial to me. I paced up and down before the tent, and Bony tried to talk to me, but I said little and heard less. I remember his telling in a whisper that they would not take a boy so young without the consent of his parents, and that he had told them that he was my father. I assured him, with dignity, that I would not lie about it. “Just say nothing. I'll do all the lying that's necessary,” said Bony. “If they ask me I shall tell the truth,” I affirmed. “You'd better not put me in a hole when I'm trying to do you a favor,” Bony pleaded. I made no answer, but somehow his words had cheapened the enterprise, of which I had had no high opinion since the performer had lifted me as if I were a thing. The edges of the cliffs began to turn black with people, and I could hear the sound of many voices. Suddenly those near us began cheering. The great Frenchman had returned. It was about three o'clock. He came straight to me, and shook my hand, and said in French, “_Courage!_” and added something which I could not understand. “You'll be as safe as you are here,” said the interpreter. “Don't jump if he sways a little, and don't look down.” The Frenchman hurried to his tent. It was time to “cross the bridge.” They gave me a pair of white stockings with soles of corrugated rubber, and I drew them on. The minutes dragged while the Frenchman was dressing. He came out in pink tights, and the crowd, pressing on the ropes around us, began to cheer. He tried his pole, and then came straight to me. That was a bad moment, and I felt like running for my life, but--no--I could not do so now. The interpreter asked me to remove my coat and put on a close-fitting cap in place of the hat I wore. In a second we were on the rope, and he began reaching for his balance. He felt his way slowly.