“Well, the wings move, that’s sure,” admitted Jerry to his chums, “but it’s another thing to rise in the air.”
Noddy, however, had not yet turned on full power. He did so a moment later, and the motor seemed to redouble the explosions, which, not being muffled, made a terrific din. The wings went up and down faster than ever, so rapidly, in fact, that they looked only like a bright blur.
Then Noddy pulled a rope, which shifted a sort of box-kite arrangement that was mounted on supports above the wings, and, to the surprise of the motor boys and the others in the crowd, the clumsy-looking tin fly began to move forward, slowly at first, but, gathering speed, it skimmed over the ground, moving along on the wheels of the platform on which it rested.
“There he goes! There he goes!” cried the throng. “He’s going to fly!”
“Not yet, but soon, maybe,” murmured Ned. “Come on, fellows, let’s run after him.”
They hastened forward, following the crowd which was all about the curious machine.
“Keep back! Give me room! Don’t get in the way! Some one may get hurt! Stand back! Keep back!” yelled Noddy, who was much excited.
He turned on more gasolene. The motor was now working so fast that the whole machine seemed ready to fly apart with the violence of the explosions and the vibrations of the tin wings.
“Here I go!” yelled Noddy.