Art had plenty of time to see that there were no seats anywhere. The “superintendent of aviation” was not even present, being, as a matter of fact, fast asleep at that moment beneath a big canvas wagon. Blushing again over the knowledge of how easy he had been, Art led the way to the best place to see, and the boys prepared to drink in every detail. Master Willie Bonner seemed to be the real superintendent.
“They ain’t no golden, silken wings there to flash in the sun. It’s all dirty and greasy,” commented Art. “An’ the engine don’t look any too good neither.”
“The kid looks all right, though,” put in Connie. “He’s the only decent looking fellow I’ve seen in the whole outfit.”
The engine had been started and the propellers tested. The boys were so close that the wind from these beat on their faces, whirling dead grass and dust about them in a choking cloud.
“Chase yourselves, you kids,” called the young aviator in a not unpleasant voice.
“You bet he knows how to run things,” exclaimed Sammy Addington, who was once more in the gang’s fold.
While thousands of spectators shouted and shoved and the Elm Street boys fought to stick together and keep in front, the man who had ridden at the front of the morning parade and who continually warned all to look out for their horses, as the elephants were coming, sprang onto the aeroplane wagon and swept his big black hat from his head.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he exclaimed in a deep, far-reaching voice, “I desire to introduce to you the youngest and most skilled aviator in the world, Master Willie Bonner.” At these words young Bonner leaped on the hub of a wagon wheel and doffed his cap without a smile or the least concern for the mob of spectators. “I desire to add,” went on the deep voice, “that, as a special mark of respect for your beautiful little city, Master Bonner has decided to alter his program somewhat, to-day. Theahfore, instead of making a long flight at this time he desiahs me to announce that he will now simply give you an exhibition in the lowah atmospheres.” As murmurs of disapproval and disgust were heard, the man hastened to add: “He is doing this, because, sharp at five o’clock this afternoon, he has determined to make an attempt to lowah the world’s record for altitude flight.” Cheers sounded, which the speaker stilled with uplifted hand. “Master Bonner’s aeroplane carries enough gasoline for a two hours’ flight. With his tanks charged to their full capacity this world-famous young aviator will at five o’clock head his aeroplane cloudward. He will soar heavenward until his fuel is exhausted; then he will shut down his engine and execute a daring volplane to the earth. Remembah, at five o’clock! Master Bonner will now give you an exhibition of rising, banking, fast flying, spirals and lighting; being careful to keep at all times within full view so that all may have an opportunity to observe these death-defying feats. Watch him closely!”
Alex Conyers snorted openly and disgustedly.