Lee, for his part, was rapidly losing the pose he had set himself in, that of a man too jaded even to stand up straight; on the one hand, he was floating in the crowd’s reaction, giddy with it, but mostly he was becoming terrified. Some reservoir of care had broken loose in him, as if Janis’s iron gaze had cracked him open. Great portions of his life had been a terrible mistake. It was like sitting on the limb of a tree and rapidly reassessing all the steps by which he had decided to saw between himself and the trunk.

He realized that his idea had been terrible. Not brilliant. He was going to get his beautiful dog killed. Deep in his bones, he knew it. As the planes returned, he knew he couldn’t stop the stunt in progress, and so he watched, powerless, as an amazing display occurred overhead: Nanette stood up on the wing. She began, wind whipping her fur back on her haunches, to walk toward the edge. The other plane fell back and down slightly, for a horizontal gap of six feet and a vertical gap of a yard.

It wasn’t worth it. The applause wasn’t worth it. The ambition wasn’t worth it.

The roar of the engines at low throttle was almost unbearably loud. The planes passed directly over the stands, and at the moment the men had to throw their heads directly toward the sky to see, Nanette leapt off the wing.

There was a moment of her hanging in the air, long and lean body illuminated from above, and then she descended. She landed between the wing struts on the second plane, which tipped away briefly, to find a better balance, and she scampered quickly along the wing and into the second cockpit. Perfectly executed. Only Lee noticed her immediately resurfacing with a squeaky toy between her jaws. The planes circled once again, waggling their wings as if taking a bow, Lieutenant Ripley waved from his DH 4 (she was now called Emma), and then they descended together onto the field, and even as they bounced awkwardly to a stop, men were roiling toward them, to stand in stark admiration.

Lee had his hands to his chest, leash wrapped in one fist, Boy straining against it, frightened enough to bolt all directions at once, but Lee was unmoving. He was measuring the beat of his heart. Never again. No force on earth could compel him to endanger so casually a creature that trusted him.

There were many eyes on him, and hands slapping him on the back, but he felt the intense interest of one particular pair. Janis. She ambled toward him, taking her hat and tossing it into the air, spinning it by its brim. “Soldier, if there was any way I could keep you from getting first prize …” she said, and then chuckled. “But that’s the way the ball bounces.”