"What's the matter with McGlory?" asked Le Bon, peering down. "He's looking up and waving his arms."
"He wouldn't do that," said Matt, "unless something is wrong. When you get on the trapeze, Archie, look over the under part of the machine and see if you can find anything out of whack. I can't imagine what's gone crosswise, for the aëroplane never behaved better."
Reaching the top of the airy slope, some two hundred feet above ground, Matt pointed the machine earthward.
"Now's your time, Archie," he said to Le Bon.
The athlete stood erect, firmly clutching the trapeze bar, and dived out into space. Swiftly Matt brought the craft to an even keel, just as the whole fabric fluttered under the jolt. In a twinkling the Comet righted herself, and Le Bon was left swinging on his frail bar, a hundred and fifty feet above the show grounds. His position under the machine was such that Matt could not see him.
"All right, Archie?" shouted Matt, keeping his eyes ahead and manipulating his levers incessantly.
"Right as a trivet," came up from below. "McGlory is still throwing himself around down there."
"Do you see anything wrong with the machine?"
"Not a thing. What's that bag hanging under the wing for?"
"Is there a bag there?"