CHAPTER V

A DISASTROUS FLIGHT

“Hold on there! Hold on!” cried the fat man, as Noddy was about to pull some levers, which, presumably, set the gears in mesh and would make the big tin wings flap, though they were motionless now.

“What’s the matter?” asked Noddy angrily, looking up.

“I thought you were going to wager me a hundred dollars that you could fly in that thing?”

“So I am.”

“Well, why don’t you put up the money? Mine’s up.”

“I guess I’m good for it,” murmured Noddy. “The bet stands. Look out, there, I’m going to make a start now! Clear the way! Look out! Look out everybody!”

He turned a little more gasolene into the motor, and the apparatus banged away louder than ever. The whole machine vibrated.

But something seemed to be the matter. Noddy, who had taken his seat in the small car attached to the machine, was vainly pulling on levers and twisting wheels.

“Something’s stuck,” he said.

“You’re stuck,” replied the fat man. “You’re stuck for a hundred dollars; that’s who’s stuck.”

“Oh, let up!” exclaimed Noddy as the fat man began to laugh. “Just you wait!”

“We are waiting,” cried several in the crowd. “Let her go, Professor Nixon.”

“Bring us down one of those clouds,” suggested another.

“Yes, and a little cooler atmosphere from above,” added a third waggish one.

Noddy was red in the face from his exertions in yanking on various levers. He could not seem to get the motor in gear, though the machine was working away at a fast rate. Finally Noddy called to one of his helpers. The man, who was evidently a machinist, soon located the trouble.

“I told you to pull out that catch before you tried to work the starting lever,” he said.

“Guess he doesn’t know much about the machine,” was the fat man’s comment.

“I know more than you, and I’ll show you so in a minute, too,” declared Noddy savagely.

He pulled on a lever with all his force. There was a grinding of cog-wheels, a sort of cough and wheeze from the motor as it took up the load, and then the big wings began to vibrate slowly up and down.

“There she goes!” cried the crowd in some enthusiasm. “Hurrah! He’s off!”

“Well, the wings move, that’s sure,” admitted Jerry to his chums, “but it’s another thing to rise in the air.”

Noddy, however, had not yet turned on full power. He did so a moment later, and the motor seemed to redouble the explosions, which, not being muffled, made a terrific din. The wings went up and down faster than ever, so rapidly, in fact, that they looked only like a bright blur.

Then Noddy pulled a rope, which shifted a sort of box-kite arrangement that was mounted on supports above the wings, and, to the surprise of the motor boys and the others in the crowd, the clumsy-looking tin fly began to move forward, slowly at first, but, gathering speed, it skimmed over the ground, moving along on the wheels of the platform on which it rested.

“There he goes! There he goes!” cried the throng. “He’s going to fly!”

“Not yet, but soon, maybe,” murmured Ned. “Come on, fellows, let’s run after him.”

They hastened forward, following the crowd which was all about the curious machine.

“Keep back! Give me room! Don’t get in the way! Some one may get hurt! Stand back! Keep back!” yelled Noddy, who was much excited.

He turned on more gasolene. The motor was now working so fast that the whole machine seemed ready to fly apart with the violence of the explosions and the vibrations of the tin wings.

“Here I go!” yelled Noddy.

“I thought you’d gone some time ago,” remarked the fat man sarcastically. He was puffing and wheezing, as he ran to keep up with the machine. Noddy did not reply. He pulled on another lever, and then something did happen.

The _Firefly_ lifted itself off the wheeled platform and fairly lurched forward, rising the least bit into the air, which action was necessary before it could leave the platform.

“Look out! Look out!” cried many voices, and the crowd in front of the curious affair ducked and dodged, separating so as to allow a clear passage for the tin fly.

With the motor firing a regular volley of explosions, and Noddy sitting desperately in his narrow seat, the _Firefly_ dashed forward. But if the crowd expected it to sail aloft over their heads they were much disappointed. It continued to lurch forward, and then, whether Noddy pulled the wrong lever or cord, or whether it was the nature of the contrivance, was never clearly established, but it turned squarely about and started back.

“It’s afraid! It’s scared at the crowd!” yelled the fat man, who seemed delighted at Noddy’s discomfiture.

“Look out!” shouted the now excited throng, as the people separated to give the _Firefly_ room to do all the queer stunts it desired.

Noddy was now holding on to the framework about him. He seemed to have given up trying to guide the airship, which was more of a “ground ship,” for it was now resting upon the earth, and hopping forward, by uncertain jerks, like a tired frog.

“Go up! Go up! Why don’t you go up?” panted the fleshy one. “I’m going to win my hundred dollars.”

Noddy reached forward to pull another lever. As he did so the _Firefly_ swerved to one side, narrowly missing knocking over several persons who had approached too close. Then it swung back again, and next began to hop over the ground in real earnest, the flapping of the broad wings, every time they went up and down, serving to lift it with jerks. But as for flying, one might as well expect a man to lift himself by his own boot-straps.

Straight ahead flopped the _Firefly_, right toward a candy and lemonade stand, which the proprietor had piled high with good things, in anticipation of a brisk trade. The tin wings beat the air, the motor exploded loudly, and the whole affair swayed and trembled.

“Get a balloon!” yelled some one in the crowd.

The owner of the stand, who had been too busy fixing up his place to pay much attention to the airship trials, now looked up. He saw coming toward him the tin fly, and he realized his danger and the danger to his stand.

“Here! Here!” he yelled. “Hold on! Stop her! You’ll run into me! Stop it, I say!”

“Move your stand! This is the _Firefly_ limited, and it mustn’t get off the track,” said the fat man with a laugh.

Noddy was doing his best to stop the motor, but either he did not pull the right lever, or else the machine had become jammed and could not be stopped. It seemed bent on destroying the stand.

“Jump! jump!” cried several to Noddy, as they saw that he was in danger. He stood up, but his legs became tangled in some things in the bottom of the car, and he could not extricate himself.

“I--I can’t jump!” he shouted back.

“Shut off the motor!” yelled his machinist, pushing his way through the crowd.

“I can’t do that either. Something’s the matter with it! It won’t stop!”

The _Firefly_ was approaching nearer and nearer to the lemonade stand. The proprietor was frantically jumping up and down in front of his possessions, as if he could thus ward off the attack of the airship.

“Stop! Stop, I tell you!” he shouted, shaking his fist at the _Firefly_, which every second was coming nearer.

“Look out!” yelled the crowd. “She’s going to hit!”

And hit she did a moment later. At the last moment Noddy managed to leap, and he did so only just in time, for there was a resounding crash, a rending and splintering of wood. The lemonade and candy stand seemed to crumple up. One side gave way to admit the pointed prow of the _Firefly_, then the stand seemed to swallow up the airship.

All at once there flew in all directions packages of candy, popcorn and boxes of other confections. One pail of pink lemonade was tossed high into the air, and, turning over, poured out a crimson flood, which sprinkled the bystanders. Bottles of root-beer and ginger ale mingled with sarsparilla in forming a shower of cooling drinks. There was a hail of peanuts.

The big tin wings, hampered in their movements by the wreck of the stand, came to a stop. But the motor went on. It was now running at full speed, free, and its momentum was terrific. There came several explosions, louder than any that had preceded.

“Look out! She’s going to blow up! The gasolene tank will explode!” cried the fat man.

The crowd, which had gathered about the wreck, scattered on the run.

Once more came a loud explosion.

“There she goes!” yelled several.

But there followed only a whistle, a wheeze, and a sort of apologetic cough from the motor. Then, with a gentle sigh, the overworked machine “went dead” and stopped. But oh what a scene of wreck, ruin and desolation!