“Jim,” he said, “Doug’ has a pass that’ll take him out o’ the grounds, but I think Mr. Dare might like help.”
Before even Jim could get busy, the alarmed aviator had disappeared in the fast gathering crowd.
A little after three o’clock, Bud made his second flight. The news of the previous day’s exploit had spread not only through the town but even into the near-by country, and the crowd was immense. The flight was not as spectacular as that of the day before, but it was longer and not less successful. Four times the perfectly working car circled the half-mile track. The time, taken with great ceremony by the trotting and running horse judges assembled in their stand, was officially announced as four minutes. This, considering the turns, was remarkably fast. Bud offered at the end of the flight to make another short flight with a passenger but this was vetoed.
Hardly had Bud alighted when two eager figures pushed their way forward. They were Madame Zecatacas and her son-in-law.
“Look here, Kid,” began the latter at once and extending an awkward hand, “me an’ the ole lady has come to tell you we’re much obliged to you.”
“For what?” asked Bud, pretending ignorance.
“Never you mind about that,” continued the man gruffly.
“We’re on all right. They didn’t make no bones about it. You squared it all right. How ’bout it, ole lady?”
The Gypsy Queen reached out her brown hands, took Bud’s hand in one of hers and tapped the ring, which he still wore, with the other.
“The Gypsy Queen sees good fortune for the young gentleman. Wear old Zecatacas’ ring—it will bring good luck. She can give no more.”