"Hurrah for Motor Matt!" shouted some one. "He goes out alone and comes back with a passenger!"
A laugh followed the cheer.
"What's the price for a trip on the Comet?" called some one else.
"Where does your air-ship line run?"
"Give me a ticket to San Francisco!"
Matt met the joking good-naturedly and piloted Miss Manners to the calliope tent. The girl was tired and worn out.
"You'd better get a little rest, Miss Manners," Matt suggested. "What you have passed through this morning would have shaken nerves much stronger than yours."
"I don't want to rest," she answered; "I want to talk. You have saved me again, Motor Matt, but what is the use of it all if I can't leave this country and go to England, or back to India? Ben Ali will find me again."
"You are through with him," said Matt, "just as I told you. A man has come from the British legation in Washington to get you and send you away by the first boat leaving New York."
"The man who came to Mrs. Chadwick's in Lafayette said the same thing," answered the girl wearily. "It seems as though there is no escaping Ben Ali."