“What’s that?” asked the committee member sternly. “He won’t let you see it? None of that, young man! When you are given an exhibition space on this ground you have to conform to all the rules of the association. Any one who pays admission is entitled to see any machine on the grounds. You can’t do any crooked work like that or we’ll order you off. This is a genuine exhibition.”
“Well, they’ll make fun of me—they’re enemies of mine, and I don’t want ’em here,” whined Noddy.
“That makes no difference. You’ll not be the first inventor who was laughed at—especially those who build airships. If you can’t stand being made fun of you’ve no business to go into this carnival. Now let me hear of no more disturbances in your tent, or I’ll close you up. Of course, you boys can stay. The idea of him trying to prevent you!” and the man looked at Noddy in disgust as he withdrew.
Much crestfallen, Noddy walked into a smaller tent erected within the larger one, and there he nursed his wrath, while Jerry and his chums walked about viewing the Firefly from various sides.
It was a curious machine. There was a metal body or car, about as large as a good-sized clothes basket. This contained a seat for the operator and the motor for working the big wings. These latter were made of sheets of tin, riveted to long skeleton frames of iron. The wings, of which there were four, two on a side, were shaped like those of a butterfly. They worked up and down by means of wheels and pistons, operated by the gasolene motor.
There was a tail in the rear, set like that on a fish, and it could be moved from side to side, presumably to steer the machine, by means of cords, levers and pulleys. The whole affair looked quite heavy, for it was all made of metal. Too heavy, indeed, to fly, as many observers commented, yet from what Noddy had said he evidently expected to make it sail through the air, carrying himself or some other venturesome person.
That the Firefly was not destined for long flights was evident from the contracted space of the car. There was barely room for the operator and the motor, and no supplies for a long trip could be carried.
“Well,” remarked Jerry, when he and his chums had spent some time examining the metal “fly,” during which interim Noddy had not shown himself, “well, that’s a queer arrangement, sure enough. I want to see it in motion.”
“Oh, you’ll see it, all right,” declared a young man, whom Noddy had evidently hired to help him. “Professor Nixon will make his first flight Monday, the opening of the carnival. Professor Nixon will challenge all the other inventors to a race.”
“Get on to that, would you?” whispered Ned to Bob. “‘Professor Nixon!’ Why doesn’t he change his name?”