Bright flags, huge erections of lumping canvas, blaring brass bands were everywhere. In front of the main tent a big crowd had gathered. Sam and Ned were caught in a swirl of humanity and rushed toward it. By a shifting of the crowd they soon found themselves in its midst. The throng was grouped about an aeroplane, the motor of which was already whirring and buzzing. By it stood a man in red tights, bright with spangles. He was lecturing on the points of the machine, which formed a "free attraction" to draw the crowds.
Ned smiled as he listened. The fellow evidently didn't know much about his subject. But even at that, he knew more than his listeners, who gazed on him, gaping and awestruck. It was the first time that most of them had seen an aeroplane at close range. The sight seemed to fascinate them.
"I will now make a short flight," announced the man as he finished, and as he clambered into the seat, a regular "barker" began shouting at the top of his voice:
"Lum-in-e-t-t-i! The King of the Ae-ar! See him in his unprecedented frantic, furious, thrilling flight into space! Watch him soar toward the haunt of the eagle bird and cloud-land! The sight of a century! The wonder of the nations! Lumin-e-t-t-i! Luminett-i-i-i-i-i! The Ke-eng of the Ae-ar!"
The crowd came running from all directions at the cry. It was soon packed so densely about "The King of the Air" that Ned and Sam found themselves almost within touching distance of the wing tips. All at once Ned's trained eye noted something. A link in one of the drive chains of the propellers was badly twisted.
Under a sudden strain it would be likely to snap.
He stepped forward and touched "The King of the Air" on the shoulder.
"Well," growled the King gruffly, "what's up?"
His gruffness was not unnatural. He saw in Ned only a rather tattered-looking member of the crowd, and not one of the most competent airmen of the United States Navy.
"One of the links on your drive chain is twisted," said Ned; "I thought I'd tell you."