Greater and greater crowds assembled to witness the trials. The people came from Minnewaukon, from Oberon, and from Devil's Lake City. Even the Indians gathered from various parts of the reservation, and gazed stolidly while "Boy-That-Flies-Like-the-Eagle"—as they called Matt—continued to keep on the wing, and learn the knack.
As Tuesday—the day of the government test—drew nearer, the railroads advertised excursions, and from the Department of the Missouri came sundry men, high in the councils of the war department, to see how well Motor Matt would meet the supreme test.
On Monday afternoon, after Matt had finished a flight during which he had kept the June Bug almost level in the air, Lieutenant Cameron caught his hand in a convulsive grip.
"I'm ready, Matt," said he; "you've got the knack."
[CHAPTER XIV.]
DASTARDLY WORK.
Ping was a badly demoralized Chinaman. He had watched, with soulful admiration, every flight Matt had made; he had swelled out like a toad every time the work of his master was applauded in his hearing; and he crept around Matt as though he was a joss—a wizard more superhuman than a mere mortal.
But the June Bug seemed to have become a part of the Chinaman. He gloated over it, he patted it affectionately, he crooned strange gibberish to it, and he kept watch of it while in the air and on the ground as though it was the apple of his eye.
After Matt had finished his last flight before the Tuesday trials, Ping crept off into the woods by himself, dipped some water into a small china bowl, and dropped into it a cake of India ink. Then he stirred the ink until it was dissolved, found a big, smooth bowlder that answered for a table, and squatted down beside it.