“Let’s go in,” said Jerry. “I’ve got change. I want to see what Noddy is capable of.”
“He’s got nerve, asking a quarter,” commented Bob. “Most of the places only charge ten cents.”
“‘None like it,’” remarked Ned. “I guess that’s true, all right, unless it’s Professor Abernot’s grasshopper. Well, let’s go in.”
They started for the entrance to the tent and purchased four tickets of the man who stood at the flap. Something about the fellow attracted Jerry’s attention as he paid over the money.
“It’s Bill Berry,” he whispered to his chums. “I know him, even if he’s shaved off his moustache. I haven’t seen him since he tried to wreck the steamer. I wonder how he dare come around here?”
“Maybe the government has given up trying to prosecute him for changing the lanterns in the lighthouse,” suggested Bob. “He’s in with Noddy again, that’s evident. Well, they’re a fine team.”
Bill Berry was a town ne’er-do-well, who more than once had aided Noddy in his schemes to make trouble for the motor boys. But this time Bill, if indeed it was he at the tent flap, seemed to think the boys would not recognize him, for he betrayed no uneasiness.
The four lads passed into the tent, another man being stationed just inside the entrance to take up their tickets. They handed him the pasteboard slips, and had just taken a glimpse of a curious machine in the center of the canvas enclosure, when they saw Noddy Nixon rushing toward them.
“Get out of here!” cried the bully. “I don’t want you in my tent! You can’t come here and make fun of my invention!”