“They’re stringin’ us, kids,” he whispered hoarsely. “They ain’t a-goin’ to be anything more doin’ at five o’clock than they is now. These circuses don’t do half the bills say.”
“They’re a pack o’ swindlers and robbers,” added Art with peculiar emphasis. “I’ll bet that old aeroplane can’t fly at all.”
But, in this, he was wrong. Alex was right about the five o’clock promise, however. At that hour Master Bonner did not fly at all nor for many days to come. The reason grew out of the biggest sensation Scottsville ever had and, incidently, what came from this sensation had a lot to do with the summer plans of the newly organized Boy Scouts. This will be narrated in order, however.
About twenty minutes after one o’clock Master Willie suddenly climbed aboard his small and soiled aeroplane. He seemed to take time only to adjust his cap and tighten his gloves when the engine started, the roar of the propellers broke out and the skeleton craft began wobbling along the ground. Then accompanied by gulps in the throats of thousands, it jumped up and stayed in the air. For the first time a real aeroplane had flown in Scottsville.
Out toward the town limits the young aviator drove his car with half of the spectators in wild pursuit. Then he turned, rose to the height of perhaps five hundred feet, and heading again toward the circus lot, landed in less than ten minutes from the time he started. The “spirals” and “banking” were over and thirteen half disappointed, half delighted boys hurried away to visit the side show—the “World’s Congress of Wonders.”
The sensation that interfered with everything occurred just as the circus performance came to an end, a little after four o’clock. The Elm Streeters had all provided themselves with tickets for the concert. They bought these at the first opportunity and, about halfway through the performance, when the deep-voiced announcer made another speech, they could only grip their precious tickets with new delight.
Jumping upon one of the stools used by pink-legged performers to hold up the banners when the bareback riding was in progress, the man exclaimed:
“Ladies and gentlemen, in making my announcement a few moments ago concerning the grand concert and minstrel show that takes place immediately upon the conclusion of this performance, which is not yet half ovah, I neglected to state that each and every curiosity of the side museum will also be introduced into the arena. Agents will now pass among you once more. The price of admission is ten cents, one dime.”
The concert was not held. While those who had neglected to purchase tickets were crowding through the sawdust strewn passageway between the “big top” or circus and the long odorous menagerie tent, there was a sudden commotion. The crowd jammed forward and back at the same time. For a moment no sound indicated the cause of the excitement and then a roar of “Look out! Look out!” swept through the tents. At the same time a white-faced canvasman with a pitchfork in his hand sprang under the side of the circus tent and yelled to the “concert people”:
“Come on! Old Growls is out again! Come on—git a fork or suthin’!”