"Don't ye take my job till I'm planted, Hen, that's all," grinned the foreman. "I been wantin' a new sensation fer quite a spell, an' I guess here's the place whar I connect with it."
If the plans of Matt and his friends worked out successfully, Jed Spearman was to "connect with a sensation" vastly different from what he was expecting. McGlory was chuckling to himself over the prospect.
The cowboys, in their uproarious mood, did not seem to notice that neither McGlory nor Ping were helping to give the aëroplane a running start down the hill.
"Ye'll be a reg'lar human skyrocket, Jed," remarked Slim, "if ye travel at the rate o' sixty miles an hour."
"I'll be goin' some, an' that's shore," answered the foreman. "Wonder what folks'll invent next? Say, thar! If ye're ready, let's start."
Matt started the motor. This evidence of power rather awed the cowboys, and their grins faded as they watched and listened.
"Now," instructed Matt, "the minute I turn the power into the bicycle wheels, you fellows begin to run the machine downhill."
"Let 'er go!" came the whooping chorus.
Jed Spearman and Slim, tailed on to a forty-foot riata, were some twenty feet ahead of the aëroplane.
"Now!" cried Matt.