When Mr. Trevor reappeared, a half hour later, he had a sober face. Art, Alex and Wart Ware were with Mrs. Trevor on the porch.
“I’m mighty glad we happened to be there,” Mr. Trevor began. “It would have been a shame for that boy to have fallen into the hands of his scoundrelly employer. Our young patient’s name is what the bills announce, William Bonner. He isn’t seventeen yet and he’s an orphan. He lives in Newark, New Jersey. I told him all that happened. He did not seem to remember about the tiger but he asked at once if the aeroplane was wrecked. I thought I’d ease his mind and I told him ‘only a little damaged.’”
“Ain’t a whole piece in it, ’cept the engine,” volunteered Ware, “but I’m glad you didn’t tell him.”
“How’d he get an aeroplane,” asked Art, “if he’s an orphan?”
“He’s been working for the American Aeroplane Company for three years,” explained Mr. Trevor. “Over a year ago he began making an aeroplane of his own in a shed near his uncle’s home. He lived with his uncle. In the meantime he learned to operate aeroplanes and was used as a demonstrator. When his machine was as far along as he could get it himself, some of the older workmen helped him. The material for it he bought from the company and when he was ready for an engine he bought that too. It cost him six hundred dollars and his other supplies two hundred dollars. He had three hundred dollars that he paid and he owed for the other five hundred. In the latter part of May this circus came to Newark and Bonner applied for a job, promising to give two shows each day. He got a ‘lay off’ from the factory for the summer and hoped to pay off his debt in that way.”
“How much was he to get?” interrupted Connie eagerly.
“Five dollars a day and his living,” answered Mr. Trevor indignantly. “You see what kind of living he must have had. He was with the circus five weeks and got his pay up to Saturday night. Out of it he sent one hundred dollars to apply on his debt. Most of the rest went for gasoline and repairs. When I told him where he was he began to cry. He was worried because he had no money and had lost his job.”
“Poor boy,” exclaimed Mrs. Trevor.
“Can’t we go up and see him?” asked Art.
“Not to-day,” answered Mr. Trevor. “He’s worried so about all the trouble he was causing that I had to ease his mind. I told him if he wanted to, he could have a job as chauffeur with us as long as he liked.”