For luncheon they turned into “Old Vienna,” passing a gorgeous guard in a canary-yellow medieval costume. They found a table under an arbor, and ordered a most unwholesome German lunch. At first Mr. Douglass had trouble in making out the German names of dishes on the bill of fare, and he asked Harry, the traveled member of the party, to read it for him. To his great admiration, the boy translated the items with readiness and accuracy.

“Why, Harry, you are thoroughly up in German eatables, at all events!” he exclaimed.

“It requires only a little careful attention,” said Harry, laughing; and, putting down the bill of fare, he showed Mr. Douglass that it had an English translation just opposite the German.

“That is certainly the best system for teaching foreign languages I have seen,” Mr. Douglass agreed. “I begin to understand it myself.”

After finishing what they could eat,—there was much that they were compelled to abandon,—they sat a few moments over their small cups of coffee, listening to a fine band that played airs from the opera “Carmen.”

“When we leave here,” said Harry, “suppose we go up in the Ferris Wheel? That gives a splendid view of the whole region, and several people have told me it is one of the best things in the Fair.”

“Can I take photographs from it?” asked the camera-bearer.

“We will ask,” Mr. Douglass replied.

They were told at the office that they would be permitted to take pictures upon signing a statement that they were not for publication. Philip, however, asked for and obtained a suspension of this condition; and, armed with the permit, they took their place opposite a little door that separated them from the enormous iron spider-web.

In a few minutes the Wheel came slowly to rest, a sliding door was opened, and they entered one of the small cars, of which the Wheel carried some forty suspended within the two great rims. The door was shut, and up they flew, as if in a balloon.

At first they went completely around without stopping. As they mounted into the air, over two hundred feet, the whole region was mapped out about them. They saw the Fair, the lake, Chicago in the distance,—beneath a veil of hazy smoke,—the Midway, a long white road dotted with its puppet sight-seers. Old Vienna, where they had lunched, dwindled into a toy village.

Philip took several views, but most of them were during the second trip, for then they stopped every now and then to let off and take on passengers, three cars being emptied at a time and at once refilled. He took a view from the Wheel, and a view looking across the Wheel inside.

There was nothing unpleasant in going up or coming down; but when the Wheel stopped, one had the awful thought that something might give way. Now and then came a slight creak or crumble, as if some part was a little strained; but it need not be said that the Wheel did not come down. Neither did any of the cars turn heels over head—that is, floor over roof—as Philip for a moment dreaded. In talking it over afterward, Harry said that his notion was that perhaps the Wheel might stop and leave them up there, and he wondered how they would get down. They came out much gratified with their upward flight, and spoke heartily in praise of the perfect engineering skill shown in the Wheel’s construction and operation.

“And do you know, boys,” said Mr. Douglass, “the Wheel came here in sections and was put together for the first time on these grounds? It has run smoothly and safely ever since, and is in every way just what its designer meant it to be. He is still a young man, and may some day do even more wonderful things. It is well not to forget that the most difficult engineering feats are not always the ones that seem most wonderful to the public.”

“Say,” Harry cried out suddenly, pointing southward, “there’s something that looks as if it would be good fun.”

Philip and Mr. Douglass turned, and saw what looked like an old-fashioned “double-ripper”—a sleigh shooting down and up a long toboggan-slide. As they had no objection to trying it “for the fun of the thing,” they went over and bought tickets for ten cents, entitling them to seats in the sled.

Once or twice it dashed past them; then it came to a halt, and they all scrambled in, taking their places in the seats, which held three apiece. Then a gong rang, and they were off! Starting slowly, the sledge gradually increased its speed until it met an incline, up which it went more slowly, and would have stopped except that a cable gripped it and hauled it to the top of the hill. Then, again released, the sledge sped down with great rapidity, but was checked by a curve around which it whirled “like all possessed,” as a fidgety old lady exclaimed; and indeed the passengers clung tightly to the sides. Around they went again and again, repeating the same experiences until the fourth time, when the car was stopped.

One man, who sat next to Philip, said: “Where you from?”

“New York,” Philip answered.

“I from St. Louis!” said the man triumphantly, evidently meaning to call attention to the wonderful fact that the world was small, after all. As they rounded the bend for the third time, the German said:

“I lose my vife!”

“I’m sorry,” said Philip, sympathetically.

“Oh, dat’s all right,” said his talkative companion. “I get her again ven ve stop. She got on other sled. I could not for the crowd. But she vill vait for me; she vill not run avay. She is too good for me, anyhow!”

Philip was relieved that the trouble was not more serious, and after they left the car, the triumphant German pointed to his faithful spouse, saying: “See! I tol’ you!”

After taking a snap-shot at the moving sled, they left the building, securing at the exit a handful of snow, which was, as the exhibitor claimed, real snow. But he also said it was a souvenir; and as a souvenir it was a failure, unless it was kept in a bottle, for it melted after the manner of all well-conducted snow elsewhere than on high mountain-peaks.

The “Moorish Palace” received their attention next. Upon entering they found themselves in what they considered a very ordinary show. It was a large room having tables and chairs, beer and tobacco-smoke, and a stage where a variety performance took place.

Two young men, in evening dress, were carrying on a dialogue that Harry said was perhaps the most genuine antique in the Plaisance. This dialogue, varied by fair handsprings, lasted longer than the boys cared to stay; so they wandered further into the Moorish mysteries. Groups and figures in wax occupied a large part of the second floor, but the only interesting object the boys saw was a printed sign requesting visitors not to talk to the wax figures. Mr. Douglass’s book had informed him that there was a “maze” of mirrors well worth seeing, but in finding this exhibit the party displayed more ingenuity than was shown in the maze itself. “Dime museum” was the boys’ well-considered verdict. Turning away, they were attracted by the cry: “Do not fail to see the performance in the great Moorish theater!” Always willing to oblige, the party mustered three dimes, received tickets, and entered at this new door.

“Well, well!” said Mr. Douglass, as he reached the edge of a balcony from which he could look upon the performance. The boys walked forward, supposing that he was expressing surprise. And so he was.

They had paid another admission fee all round for the privilege of entering the gallery of the same room from which they had departed in disgust only a few minutes before. They were grieved rather than angry, and explained their plight to the ticket-seller. He did not let the matter weigh upon his spirits to any extent, nor did he seem much surprised.

“Boys,” said Mr. Douglass, as they descended the dusty stairs, “I think that’s enough of a maze for me.”

When once more in the roadway, they agreed to separate. Mr. Douglass preferred to go back to the Fair; Philip wished to try for a few more photographs, and Harry still kept his faith in the Wild Animal Show.

So Philip and Mr. Douglass left him, and Harry walked toward the show.

“Oh, I like the whole business; don’t you?” he heard a woman say to a friend; and he was willing to agree so far, if he might except that Moorish maze.

He found a large crowd pressing toward the Animal exhibit, and, buying a ticket at the door, was soon ushered into a very large amphitheater surrounding a circus-ring on a raised platform. Above the ring was a covered cage. Harry made his way toward a number of unoccupied seats, and was surprised that these were so empty while the others were so crowded.

A little boy, coming to collect the tickets, announced: “You can stay here if you like; but you won’t see nothing much, for the animals sit around here, and you’ll have to look over ’em.” So Harry took a better place, near two German gentlemen, one of whom courteously handed him a program, for which there was an extra charge made.

A scarlet-coated band filled the air with melody, and the show began, introduced by a really blood-curdling roar, such as a healthy and hungry lion gives when he wishes to make an impression. The amphitheater was as full of people as if it had been the only exhibition given that afternoon in Chicago. A baby elephant lumbered in, followed by a large hound and two ponies, and these animals went through a clever performance of marching, wheeling, waltzing, and posing under the direction of a graceful young girl dressed in a close-fitting purple velvet jacket, trousers, and military boots. They were excellently managed, and performed cleverly.

A wild boar came next,—an ugly-faced fellow,—and was put through his feats of hurdle-racing and riding a chariot drawn by another boar. He failed at two hurdles out of three, knocking them over; but was made by the clown, his trainer, to repeat the trick successfully, amid applause. Once the clown made the boar sit down on a high tub, and then cocked a white hat over the animal’s ear, giving him a comical appearance.

The succeeding performance was one of the cleverest. A ring-master came in, bringing a small pony whose neck was covered by a thick white pad, and who carried a flat saddle upon his back. Afterward entered a lithe, tawny lioness, who ran cat-like around the ring, and another enormous hound who did little, but was probably an important part of the show.

The lioness leaped upon a high platform, and as the pony came around the ring sprang upon his back just as a circus-rider does. Again the lioness leaped from the pony to another platform higher in the air, and awaited the pony’s second circuit. It was very exciting to Harry, for the lioness seemed anything but cowed—snarling, raising her whiskers, and showing much spirit.

Harry made up his mind that the hound was brought in as a sort of watch-dog, in case the lioness should show more spirit than the circus-performance demanded; and this idea was strengthened by the presence of these great dogs in nearly every act—but usually as very minor performers.

After the lioness had loped down the sloping passage leading from the ring, attendants came in and removed the carpets and mats used in the circus-performance. They returned with little wooden shelves arranged to hook upon the bars around the great circular cage, and put these in place. Then the lion-tamer entered, not in tights, spangles, armor, or tinsel, but in a dark business-suit that would not have attracted attention in the street.

After him came in a “happy family,” as it used to be called in the Barnum days; but not the sort of happy family that would be welcome if it should drop in to spend the evening. First came the dogs, then three bears, two black and one a polar bear, then lions, Bengal tigers, until each of the many little shelves had its occupant.

These animals were admirably trained, and went through a variety of clever performances. One little black bear—just the sort of little fellow you would expect to see robbing bees of honey, or stealing a squealing little porker from a sty—was led out and invited to show the ladies and gentlemen how well he could walk on a great, blue, rolling ball. As he went forward to begin the act, his lounging gait set all the spectators to laughing, and his whole performance was equally funny, excellently as it was done. When through, he was rewarded by a lump of sugar produced from the ring-master’s coat-tail pocket. The same bear also walked the “tight-rope” along a thick bar of wood.

Meanwhile the polar bear acted as a clown. He seemed to find something very interesting about one of the big hounds. During each act, Mr. Polar Bear would leave his place and snuff around Mr. Dog’s ears, and paw his neck with the great sharp claws necessary to one who walks much on icebergs and other slippery places. At one time, late in the performance, the bear seemed to conclude that the dog was good to eat, and began to take him in head first. But here the dog’s patience gave out, and he howled a gentle protest that sent the polar bear back to his place.

When the little black bear had finished his second act, the ring-master patted him upon the head with a pleasant touch of approval that was kindly and encouraging.

Then the animals changed about: the bear going back to his place, and the Bengal tigers slouching into the ring. A see-saw was put up, and, with a tiger on each end, was rocked to and fro by another black bear—one that had a peculiar white crescent upon his breast. After this the whole company ranged themselves, standing, in a ring, and the big dogs leaped over their backs just as circus-riders leap hurdles.

A chariot came rolling in, a number of the attendants followed, and two tigers were yoked up as if each were “the patient ox obedient to the goad.”

The biggest lion, draped in a scarlet cloak and crowned, mounted the chariot, while two hounds rested their fore legs upon the back of the chariot, and around the ring went the gorgeous procession—an animal Emperor making a triumphal procession.

Another pyramid of animals was formed, and then all, set free, went rolling and tumbling about the arena, as their trainer stood among them giving out sugar.

No exhibition of animal-training could have been better, and Harry left the building well satisfied with his afternoon at the Animal show.

Coming out into the Plaisance road once more, Harry started to walk back to the hotel. He had enjoyed the rolling-chair in the morning, but felt freer to go where he chose when he was by himself and on foot. He did not intend to see any more sights than he could help, but the boy had to keep his eyes open to see where he went, and so long as he did not shut his eyes, sights had to be looked at.

In passing the Children’s Building, he noticed carefully where it was, as he intended to come back to it soon; then he walked through the “Puck” Building, noticing the color-printing, and the pretty photograph of a child dressed as “Puck,” and passed thence across a bridge to the quiet wooded island. His eyes were rested by the soft green tints, and the quiet was very refreshing after the bustle and confusion of the Plaisance. All about were little fairy lamps of different colored glass, arranged in preparation for an illumination of the island that night.

Harry wandered on without attending strictly to his course, and consequently found himself in the middle of the island without any means of crossing to the Manufactures Building. As he wished to walk the length of that building on his way home, he rather reluctantly retraced his weary way to the bridge leading to the Fisheries Building. But this mistake enabled him to warn another party of visitors against the same error, and they followed him over the two bridges to the Manufactures Building.

He was too tired to look at exhibits, and walked doggedly down the long aisle until he came out upon the great Court of Honor. Here he rested a little while, feeling rather dazed, and then walked by the Administration Building in company with many out-going parties quite as weary as he.

A soldier in flaming regimentals passed, carrying a baby in his arms, while the unwarlike wife followed at his side, supporting the officer’s heavy sword. This odd exchange of duties was the last thing Harry noticed before he left the gates.

Mr. Douglass came home, and reported that he had spent most of the afternoon in examining the decorations and groups upon the outside of the larger buildings, particularly those upon the Administration Building, as he wished to write some account of it to a friend interested in decorative work.

As to Philip, he resolutely refused to tell the others all about his afternoon except so far as this. He said, “I had some trouble about my camera, and it took me all the afternoon to straighten it out.”

Later, his little adventure came out, and shall be told.