"Keep that until we land," laughed Matt.
The cheering came up to them like Bedlam let loose as they drew near Camp Traquair, and Matt slackened the pace, preparatory to descending.
Then it was that the unexpected—so far as Matt was concerned—happened.
There came a snap like the crack of a pistol, and Matt had a sudden vision of a writhing wire rope coiling viciously in the air. It missed him, but struck the lieutenant on the forehead.
Instinctively the lieutenant arose on the footboard, and tossed his arms. It was a fierce blow he had received, and unconsciousness had claimed him. Staggering in midair, he would have tottered off into space had it not been for the king of the motor boys.
Quick as a flash, Motor Matt caught the lieutenant's arm just in time to keep him from falling.
The accident was witnessed by the thousands of spectators gathered below. For an instant it seemed as though the fluttering aëroplane would be overturned and come rushing earthward; then, as the horrified people watched, the reeling lieutenant was dragged out of sight between the canvas planes, the aëroplane righted suddenly, glided downward, and dropped on her wheels in the road.
Matt's face was white, but his voice was steady as he called to those who were rushing toward the machine.
"Cameron is only stunned—he'll be all right in a little while. Here, lift him out and lay him on the ground."
One of the epauletted, gold-laced officers brushed a handkerchief across his forehead with a shaking hand.