"We're going to hit the clouds on two canvas wings, Ping," said McGlory.
"No savvy," returned Ping.
"Matt's going to fly. Savvy fly? All same bird," and the cowboy flapped the edges of his coat, and lifted himself on one foot.
"My no makee good bird," said Ping, the white running into the yellow of his face. "My makee fall, bleakee neck."
"You'll wish you'd stayed in Madison, Ping, before you get through with this bag of tricks," went on McGlory, winking at Matt. "We're going to let you——"
The cowboy was intending to have a little fun with Ping, but, at that moment, a boy from the office appeared in the doorway.
"Mrs. Traquair is waiting for you down in the office, Motor Matt," he announced.
"It's three o'clock!" exclaimed Matt. "Get your two hundred and fifty, Joe, and come with me."
"I've got it, pard, right in my jeans," answered McGlory.
"You can stay here, Ping, till we come back," went on Matt to the Chinaman.