Matt had made so many ascensions that he handled every part of his work with automatic precision, and the aëroplane, amid the wild cheers of the crowd, darted skyward.
McGlory, standing perhaps a distance of fifty feet back from the point where the machine left the earth, saw a bag hanging to the under plane, close to an opening that led up through the plane to the motor and the driver's seat.
What was the bag? the cowboy asked himself, and how did it chance to be swinging there?
McGlory had only a few moments to make his observations, for the Comet was climbing swiftly upward and the bag was growing rapidly smaller to the eye. He ran forward, stumbling and looking, and Burton, evidently with his eyes on the same object, galloped past him with glance upturned.
Suddenly a black object appeared over the top of the bag, grew longer, wriggled queerly, and could be seen disappearing into the space between the two planes.
The cowboy halted his stumbling feet and reeled, his brain on fire and his breath coming quick and hard.
That black, wriggling thing must have been the cobra! The cobra, which the Hindoo had said he had sold to some one on the show grounds!
McGlory's mind was a hopeless chaos of fears, doubts, and wild speculations. While he stood there, Burton, a wild look on his face, came galloping back.
"That bag!" he gasped, drawing rein with a quick, nervous hand at the cowboy's side. "Did you see it, McGlory?"
"Yes," answered the other.