"I can do it," declared Matt.
"Of course you can do, old socks—you can do anything when you set your mind to it. But, tell me this, what has that old elephant driver, Ben Ali, got to do with Haidee? Ben Ali's a Hindoo, and Haidee is almost as white as an American girl."
"Ben Ali's her uncle, Joe. Haidee's mother was Ben Ali's sister, and Haidee's father was an English officer living in Bombay. The girl told me all this yesterday at the time she begged me to do what Boss Burton wanted and let her trail the Comet aloft on the trapeze."
"Funny combination," muttered Joe.
McGlory was in his overclothes, and had just finished getting the aëroplane ready for the parade. The "animal top"—that is, the menagerie tent—had been hoisted, and the small canvas lean-to that housed the steam calliope had been put in place alongside. The calliope was not in the lean-to, but was out on the grounds, being put in shape for the parade.
Matt and Joe usually came to the calliope tent to make themselves ready for the street procession. They, together with Ping, had been three weeks with the Big Consolidated, Matt making ascensions in the aëroplane twice daily, following the parade and just before the evening performance—wind and weather permitting. So proficient had Matt become in handling the flying machine that nothing short of a stiff gale or a hard rain kept him from carrying out his engagements for a double exhibition each day.
The aëroplane had caught the popular fancy, and had proved the biggest kind of a card for Boss Burton, proprietor of the show. Under its own motive power, the machine formed a star feature of the parade, traveling slowly on the bicycle wheels which were necessary in giving it a start when flights were made.
From tip to tip, the wings of the aëroplane measured more than thirty feet. Of course it could not travel in the parade with such a stretch of surface across the streets, so Matt had arranged the bicycle wheels in such a manner that the Comet moved sideways in the procession, the king of the motor boys, his cowboy pard, and his Chinese comrade occupying positions in the seats on the lower wing.
When Matt and his friends first joined the outfit, Boss Burton had supplied them with bespangled apparel, which, if they had worn it, would, according to McGlory, have made them "a holy show."
Matt and McGlory balked at the glittering costumes, but Ping had hung to his beadwork and gilt trimmings with a fierce determination there was no shaking.