“Hold on there! Hold on!” cried the fat man, as Noddy was about to pull some levers, which, presumably, set the gears in mesh and would make the big tin wings flap, though they were motionless now.
“What’s the matter?” asked Noddy angrily, looking up.
“I thought you were going to wager me a hundred dollars that you could fly in that thing?”
“So I am.”
“Well, why don’t you put up the money? Mine’s up.”
“I guess I’m good for it,” murmured Noddy. “The bet stands. Look out, there, I’m going to make a start now! Clear the way! Look out! Look out everybody!”
He turned a little more gasolene into the motor, and the apparatus banged away louder than ever. The whole machine vibrated.
But something seemed to be the matter. Noddy, who had taken his seat in the small car attached to the machine, was vainly pulling on levers and twisting wheels.
“Something’s stuck,” he said.
“You’re stuck,” replied the fat man. “You’re stuck for a hundred dollars; that’s who’s stuck.”