Those were the bitterest words that Ned had ever heard. They seemed to sear his very being.
[CHAPTER XXIV.]
A DASH FOR FREEDOM.
To Ned's intense relief, the little cortege did not attract much attention as it passed down the street. Most of the town was at the circus, attracted, doubtless, by the prospect of a big, free aeroplane flight.
At last they reached the circus grounds. The performance had commenced, and the spaces outside the tents in which it was going on were almost deserted. Only a few canvasmen and hangers-on lounged about. From time to time a loud blare of music or a shout of applause came from the tent. Over by the main entrance Ned saw Professor Luminetti, still tinkering with his aeroplane. Some men were helping him. Among them was the man with the big moustache, who had addressed Ned so roughly when he pointed out the defective link.
"There, professor," he was exclaiming, as the constable came up, "that's done. I guess everything is all right now for the night performance."
"It all came from not paying attention to what that young chap said," put in one of them.