cost anything," he said, and led the way toward the towering
lights.

For Bobby Thorpe to bring a small boy to ride with him was an
everyday affair. Billy Grimm, at the ticket-window, hardly
glanced at the boy who stood, trembling with anticipation, in the
shadow of the booth.

The car came, and they climbed in. Perhaps, as they moved off,
Prince Ferdinand William Otto had a qualm, occasioned by the
remembrance of the English child who had met an untimely end; but
if he did, he pluckily hid it.

"Put your lid on the floor of the car," said Bobby Thorpe'
depositing his own atom there. "Father says, if you do that;
you're perfectly safe."

Prince Ferdinand William Otto divined that this referred to his
hat, and drew a small breath of relief. And then they were off,
up an endless, clicking roadway, where at the top the car hung
for a breathless second over the gulf below; then, fairly
launched, out on a trestle, with the city far beneath them, and
only the red, white, and blue lights for company; and into a
tunnel, filled with roaring noises and swift moving shadows.
Then came the end of all things a flying leap down, a
heart-breaking, delirious thrill, an upward sweep just as the
strain was too great for endurance.

"Isn't it bully?" shouted the American boy against the onrush of
the wind.