“It’ll come down or do something now,” suggested Art.
“I’d think they’d shoot,” added Connie.
A man in the crowd suddenly raised his arm and pointed toward that part of town where the circus stood.
“It’s the aeroplane,” shouted Colly excitedly.
“It’s comin’ in this direction,” yelled Art. “Gee whiz, watch him.”
“I’ll bet it’s that boy a-goin’ to do something to the tiger,” cried Connie jumping on the rear seat and waving his hat. “Mebbe he ain’t flyin’ though!”
As each boy struggled to get in a better position to see, Sammy Addington almost crushed in the jam of thirteen boys, and howling and kicking, the circus aeroplane darted over the automobile.
“I told you so! I told you so!” roared Connie. “Look at his rope!”
All could make that out. In his left hand the youthful aviator held several long loops of light rope. Was he going to lasso the beast? How could he do it with his left hand? And if he did, how could he hold the line and manage the aeroplane? It was not necessary to theorize long. What followed showed that “Master Willie Bonner’s” noonday flight was little indication of what the nervy little aviator could do with his aeroplane.