Chapter VII: Was It Treachery?

"Where's Haidee?" asked Matt.

"Oh, bother the girl!" cried McGlory savagely.

Matt turned on him with a surprised look.

"What's the matter with you, pard?" he asked.

"Well, it's apples to ashes that I was never so badly shaken up in my life before as I am this minute. Sufferin' Judas! Say, I'd never have believed it."

The crowd was dense. Some of the people were moving off toward the city, some were making for the side-show, and others were trying to get close to the king of the motor boys. Matt, having just finished a sensational flight, was an object of curiosity and admiration.

Neither he nor McGlory paid any attention to the demonstration around them, but moved briskly onward toward the calliope tent.

"I can't rise to you, Joe," said the puzzled Matt. "What's on your mind?"

"Something more'n my hat, and you can bet your moccasins on that."

"Where did Haidee go?"

"That leather-faced tinhorn uncle of hers grabbed her and took her away the minute she dropped from the trapeze."

"She wasn't hurt, was she?"

"I didn't take any trouble to find out. She walked off spry enough."

McGlory was gruff to the point of incivility. It was evident to Matt that he had been mightily stirred.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Matt.

"Wait till we get into the calliope tent, and out of this crowd and the dust--then I'll tell you."

"Didn't you discover the trick Boss Burton played on me with the help of Haidee and Le Bon, Joe?"

"Oh, speak to me about that!" snarled the cowboy. "Nary, I didn't, pard, until it was too everlastin'ly late to stop the run of the cards. Burton! We've got a bone to pick with him; and, after it's picked, I feel like cramming it down his throat. He was bound to have the girl go up, and he worked it in his sneaking, underhand way! I don't like this layout, Matt. You've had the closest call that's ever come your way since you took to flying. Sufferin' cats! Say, my heart was in my throat all the while I was looking on. I was expecting that any minute the fire would reach the gasoline, that both tanks would let go, and that you, and the girl, and the _Comet_ would all be wiped out in a big noise and a splotch of flame."

By this time they had reached the calliope tent, and were able to duck inside and get away from the crowd.

The calliope was there, and filling the larger part of the interior. The big steam organ was shrouded in a canvas cover, and only the lower rims of the wagon wheels on which it was mounted were to be seen.

Matt dropped down on a heap of straw and leaned back wearily against a side pole. McGlory threw himself down beside him, his face thoughtful and angry.

"I hadn't any notion Burton was running in a rhinecaboo," said the cowboy presently, "until the _Comet_ had jumped into the air and I had looked back and seen Le Bon near the place from which the machine had started. When I turned and looked at you and the _Comet_, there was the Haidee girl perched on the lower wing, throwin' kisses to the crowd. I knew then that Burton had turned his trick, and I lammed loose a yell; but there was too much noise for you to hear it. I kept my eyes on the aëroplane and the girl and--and I saw something then that made my hair curl later when the fire broke out."

"What was it?" asked Matt.

"Haidee, pushing something out on the left-hand wing and jabbing it down there with a hatpin, so it would stay."

"We must have been three or four hundred feet away from you, Joe," returned Matt, "and how could you see it was a hatpin?"

McGlory sat up, opened the front of his coat, and drew a blistered hatpin out of the lining.

"I hunted around under the machine, while we were fighting the fire," he explained, "and picked up that. So, you see, I know it was a hatpin."

A frown crossed Matt's face.

"What do you make out of that move of Haidee's?" he asked.

"She pinned a ball of something soaked in oil to the wing and touched it off," averred McGlory. "It smouldered for a while and then blazed up and set fire to the canvas."

"Joe," returned Matt incredulously, "you must be mistaken. I've always been a friend of Haidee's. Why should she want to destroy the _Comet_, or me? When you come to that, why should she want to take her own life? That's virtually what it would have amounted to if the fire had reached the gasoline tanks."

"Who could have started the fire, if it wasn't the girl?" demanded McGlory. "She was the one."

Matt was nonplused. His cowboy chum seemed to have drawn a correct inference, but the supposition was so preposterous the king of the motor boys could take no stock in it.

"We've got to use a little common sense, Joe," insisted Matt. "The girl wouldn't have the least motive in the world for trying to do such a thing as set fire to the _Comet_!"

"We've got to bank on what we see," answered McGlory, "no matter whether we want to believe our eyes or not. Look at it! Haidee comes to the aëroplane for the parade like a wooden figure of a girl, moving like a puppet worked by strings. Suddenly she flashes out of her locoed condition and pulls a lever that slams the _Comet_ against Rajah's heels. Well, we protected the girl from that because we believed she was having one of her 'spells.' She came out of the spell all of a sudden and lopes down to where the aëroplane stands ready for the start. She seems as well as ever, and begs to go up on the trapeze. A trick is played on us, and she _does_ go up. Then, once more, she gets the _Comet_ into trouble. I can't savvy the blooming layout, but I'm keen to know that some one is starting in to do us up. And Haidee is one of our enemies."

Just then Boss Burton pushed into the tent. He was nervous and cast furtive glances at Motor Matt.

"Great business!" he exclaimed. "Le Bon got juggled out of the ascension, after all, and Haidee, the sly minx! did her stunt on the trapeze, just as she had planned. How in the world did the machine take fire? Crossed wires, or something?"

"You need not try to dodge responsibility, Burton," said Matt sharply. "You put up the trick that was played on me."

"On my honor, King----"

"Don't talk that way," interrupted Matt. "Come out flat-footed and admit it."

"Well," grinned Burton, a little sheepishly, "if you put it that way, I'll have to acknowledge the corn. But the girl was clear-headed, wasn't she? She didn't fall off the trapeze, and she pulled off some hair-raising tricks on that flying bar that set the crowd gasping. It was the biggest novelty in the way of an act that any show ever put up. Results will show at the ticket wagon this afternoon. Too confoundedly bad, though, that the thing should have been marred by that fire. How long will it take you to fix up the machine? Can you do it in time for an ascent to-night? I've planned to have Haidee shoot off skyrockets from the trapeze, and Roman candles, and all that."

"You'll have to cut out the fireworks, Burton," said Matt dryly. "It will take a full day to repair the _Comet_."

Burton "went up in the air" on the instant.

"Think of the loss!" he exclaimed. "You've got to repair the machine in time for the ascent this evening. If it's a matter of men, King, I'll give you a dozen to help."

"It's not a matter of men," said Matt. "Joe and I are the only ones who can work on the _Comet_. And listen to this--I mean it, and if you don't like it we'll break our contract right here--Haidee has gone up with me for the last time. I'll take Archie le Bon, or any one else you want to send, but not Haidee."

"Is this what you call treating me square?" fumed Burton.

"Sufferin' Ananias!" grunted McGlory. "You're a nice lame duck to talk about being treated square! You've got a treacherous outfit, Burton, and Pard Matt and I are not beginning to like it any too well."

Matt, thinking McGlory might tell what Haidee had done, gave him a restraining look.

"You're responsible for the trouble that overtook the _Comet_, Burton," proceeded Matt.

"Me?" echoed the showman, aghast. "Well, I'd like to know how you figure it."

"Through your schemes, and over my protest, Haidee made the ascent with me."

"I'll admit that."

"If she hadn't made the ascent, there'd have been no fire."

"Do you mean to say----"

"Now, don't jump at any conclusions. I know what I'm talking about when I tell you that there'd have been no fire if Haidee hadn't made the ascent with me. That isn't saying, mark you, that the girl is to blame for what happened. Would she want to burn the aëroplane and drop herself and me plump into the show grounds? If----"

Just then a weird thing happened. The calliope gave a sharp clatter of high notes.

All present in the tent gave astounded attention to the canvas-covered music box.

"Spooks!" grinned Joe.

"There was enough steam left in the calliope to play a few notes," suggested Burton.

"But the notes couldn't play themselves," said Matt, and made a rush for the calliope.

The keyboard was in one end of the calliope wagon, and the canvas was draped over the chair occupied by the operator when the steam wagon was in use.

With a pull, Matt jerked aside the canvas that covered the rear of the calliope, and there, crouching in a chair, was Ben Ali!