Old Jim put me and the cane down, and wrenched the hand away, but by the time he had picked up the cane again, my hand was clamped back firmly on its spot on my cheek. And before he could grab the other hand, I planted it just as firmly on the right cheek. He wasn’t catching me that way. I may have been 6 but I wasn’t stupid. Just petrified. Literally.
This was the fatal flaw in my logic. Except for divine intervention, I had no hope of rescue from the situation to which I had committed myself, but as I was the sinner, I wasn't counting on help from above. Still, a smallish earthquake strong enough to distract Old Jim would have been handy if the timing was right. Clearly, it wasn't.