“You seem to feel sure you know it all,” almost sneered the banker.
“I should say not,” answered the boy promptly. “I know hardly anything, and Lafe knows less.”
“Well, if we get stuck, I suppose we can call on you.”
“I’ll be right there, waiting.”
“Pshaw,” exclaimed the banker laughing, “we need plenty of help. Mr. Pennington may not want you, but I do. Turn in and give us a lift. Between us, we’ll see what we can do. We are going to move these boxes out to the fair-ground, and see if we can put our aeroplane together. You’re hired to help.”
[CHAPTER II]
THE HERO OF THE GRAVEL PIT.
The Scott County Fair-grounds were a mile and a half from Scottsville. A little after two o’clock, the “aeroplane” cavalcade was on its way there from the freight-house. In front, rode President Elder of the fair association, with Lafayette, or Lafe, Pennington, the bank clerk and amateur dabbler in aeronautics, by his side. Then came a dray with the four-cylinder, 25-horse power, 190 lb. Curtiss engine elaborately crated. Next was an express wagon with boxed engine accessories, such as gasoline tank, water cooler, chain drives, and the dismounted propeller blades. In the rear, in the big farm wagon, rode proud Bud Wilson, busy preserving the balance of the spruce sections of the aeroplane surfaces.
In the excitement attendant upon the fair, the procession attracted little attention. Buggies and passenger hacks raised clouds of dust in which wagons laden with belated exhibits made their way toward the great enclosure within whose high white fence Scott County’s agricultural exhibit was fast getting into final order. At the sight of President Elder, the gate attendants threw the white portals wide open, and Bud had a new joy—he was working for the fair, and didn’t have to pay to get in.