"Furthermore," continued Cameron, "the manager of the show will probably dock your salary every time you fail to pull off a flight. You know how hard it is to bank on the weather. At least half of each week, I should say at a guess, you will find it too windy to go up."
"We'll have to have an understanding with the manager about that. It will have to be a pretty stiff wind, though, to keep me from flying. I've got the knack of handling the aëroplane, now, and a moderate breeze won't bother me at all."
"The show's the thing!" jubilated McGlory. "Speak to me about that, will you? The king of the motor boys and the Comet will be top-liners. And draw? Well, I should say! Why, they'll draw the people like a house afire."
The first Traquair aëroplane—the one sold to the government after the Fort Totten trials had been christened the June Bug by McGlory; but this one, built by Matt after the Traquair model, he had himself named the Comet. This name was to perpetuate the memory of a motorcycle which Matt had owned and had used with telling effect in far-away Arizona.
"I'm sure I wish you all the luck in the world, Matt," said Cameron heartily, "although I tell you flat that this show project of yours doesn't commend itself to me worth a cent. However, you know your own business best. You have demonstrated, beyond all doubt, that the Traquair aëroplane can travel across country equally as well as around a prescribed course. This makes it possible for you to take your friends aboard and fly to Fargo, or to New York, if you want to—providing the wind isn't too strong and nothing goes wrong with the machinery, but——"
Cameron did not finish. Just at that moment a rap fell on the door, and he turned in his chair to ask who was outside.
"O'Hara, sor," came the response from the hall.
"What is it, O'Hara?"
"There's a little old man wid me, sor, who has just rained in from Minnewaukon. He's as damp as a fish and about all in, sor, an' he's afther wantin' t' spake wid Motor Matt."
"Bring him in, at once."