"Well, the' was a hull crowd o' us seen Traquair when his flyin' machine flopped over. He come down like a piece o' lead, all mixed up with ropes, an' canvas, an' things. Gee, but that was a smash. I was one o' the kids that went to tell Mrs. Traquair. She was allers afeared Traquair 'u'd git a drop, so she never went to see him do his flyin', an' she never let any o' the kids go, nuther. I wisht I hadn't gone. Say, I dream about that there accident 'most ev'ry night, an' it skeers me stiff."
"I'll give you half a dollar," went on Matt, "if you'll take me to the scene of the accident. Will you?"
"You've bought somethin', mister," grinned the boy. "I was goin' fishin', but I'd pass up a circus if some un offered me half a dollar."
They pushed on toward the park.
"Fellers that try to fly ain't got as much sense as the law allows, I guess," remarked the boy. "Ever'body said Traquair 'u'd break his neck, an' that's what happened."
"What kind of a machine did he have?" queried Matt.
"Doggone if I know. It had wings, an' machinery, an' a thing that whirled behind, an' three bicycle wheels, an' rudders, an' I dunno what-all."
"What were the bicycle wheels for?" asked Matt, interested.
"Traquair had to take a runnin' start afore he got wind enough under his wings to lift him. When the wheels begun to leave ground, he turned the power onto the whirlin' thing behind, an' that made him scoot up into the air; then, somehow, he folded the bicycle wheels up under the machine."
"Did Traquair ever do much flying?"