"Did you hunt for the fellow?" asked Matt.
"Did we! Why, Burton had every man that could be spared from the show chasing all over the grounds. What's more, he sent word to the police, and they're on the hunt. Here's what that Hindoo tinhorn has done: He tried to make Rajah wreck the aëroplane, and he tried his best to get you and the cobra mixed up while in the air. Why? What's his reason for actin' like that?"
"Give it up, Joe. Not only has Dhondaram done all that, but he has lifted Burton's ticket-wagon money. There's something back of it all, and I'd give a farm to know just what it is. If I——"
McGlory was interrupted by a cracked voice, down the road, lifted in what purported to be song:
"Hi le, hi lo, hi le, hi lo,
Bei uns gets immer je länger je schlimmer,
Hi le, hi lo, hi le, hi lo,
Bei uns gets immer ja so!"
"Carl!" exclaimed Matt. "I could tell that voice of his among a thousand."
"But what the nation is he coming with?" cried McGlory, peering along the road into the gloom. "Looks like he had a rig of some kind."
The "rig," when it drew closer, proved to be one of the donkey carts driven by the clowns in the parade. The Dutch boy was walking ahead and leading the donkey.
"Hooray for der greadt tedectif!" whooped Carl, bringing the donkey outfit to a halt. "Modor Matt, I haf dit vat you say."
"What have you done, Carl?" returned Matt curiously.