CHAPTER XII.

  A SCIENTIFIC FACT.

  For an instant, following Motor Matt's tragic announcement, McGlory andBurton were stricken dumb with horror. The cowboy was first to recoverhis wits, and he leaped to the back of Burton's horse.

  "Doctor!" he shouted, galloping madly along the road between the ropesthat separated the crowd; "we want a doctor! Where's a doctor?"

  In a crowd like that it was natural that there should be many doctors,and no less than three forced themselves through the throng, divedunder the ropes, and hurried to Motor Matt.

  Among these three physicians was Doctor Horton, an old man of noparticular school, but widely read and eminent in his profession.

  "He'll die," said one of the medical men. "If that snake was a genuinecobra, and if its fangs were not removed, Motor Matt might as well makehis will--and be quick about it."

  "My opinion exactly," said the other physician.

  "Bosh!" answered Doctor Horton derisively.

  The other two turned on him.

  "What do you mean, Horton?" they demanded.

  "Just what I say," was the response. "This brave lad, who endangeredhis own life to save innocent spectators, is as sound as a dollar thisminute."

  "Then the snake was not a cobra," averred one of the others.

  "It _was_ a cobra," snapped Doctor Horton; "I saw it."

  "Then its fangs had been pulled."

  "They had not been pulled--I saw them, too."

  "It is not possible, in that case, that the young man was bitten."

  "Not bitten?" cried Doctor Horton ironically, lifting Matt's wrist,which he was holding. "Certainly he was bitten, and by one of the mostpoisonous snakes of which we have any knowledge. There's the mark,gentlemen, and it's as plain as the nose on your face. We were lookingup at him, weren't we, when he was fighting the cobra and fighting, atthe same time, to keep the flying machine from dropping into the crowd?And didn't we see him fling out his arm with the snake hanging to hiswrist? The force in the throw of the arm--and there's some strengththere, gentlemen, believe me," interjected the doctor, patting thebiceps--"flung the reptile off. It fell, and so close to me that Ihad the pleasure of putting my heel on its head. Do you suppose for aminute that the cobra could hang to Motor Matt's arm without biting? Iam surprised at you."

  "What's the answer?" inquired one of the other two.

  "The venom of the cobra," proceeded Doctor Horton, "acts swiftly onthe human system. Yet we see here none of the symptoms attending suchpoisoning. By now, you understand, they should be well advanced. Youask me the reason our brave young friend is in a normal condition? Ascientific fact has come to his rescue. It is well known," and thedoctor accented the "well" and gave his medical confr?res a humorousglance, "that the cobra can bite, but cannot release its poison _unlessthe fangs come together in the wound_. In this case, the fangs did notmeet, consequently the bite was as harmless as that of the ordinarygarter snake."

  Dr. Horton slipped his fingers along Matt's wrist and gripped his hand.

  "You are to be congratulated; my lad," he went on. "It was yourquickness in seizing the snake, I infer, and in hurling it from thea?roplane, that prevented it from laying firm hold of you. Tell us whathappened. We have learned a little from the acrobat who was on thetrapeze, and who dropped off when near the ground, but we were all toomuch excited, at the time, to pay much attention to him. Besides, hewas under the a?roplane, and in no position to know just what went onin your vicinity. Give us the facts."

  Matt, relieved beyond expression, told of the cause of the shortcircuit, and of his attempts to get the machine in the right positionfor alighting; and finished with a terse account of the way he hadgrabbed the cobra and flung it from him.

  The exciting chronicle was set forth in few words and with the utmostdiffidence. The recital, however, struck an undernote of courageand self-sacrifice in the line of duty that caught Doctor Horton'sadmiration.

  "Once more," said the physician, taking Matt's hand. "What youaccomplished, my lad, was nobly done. How many could have kept theirwits in such a situation? Not many--hardly one out of a thousand.You're the manager of this show, are you?" he added, turning to Burton.

  "I am, yes, sir," replied Boss Burton.

  "Then you owe Motor Matt a lot. A fearful accident has been averted,and you might have been swamped with damage suits."

  The crowd surged around the _Comet_, and stout canvasmen had to besummoned to force the people back. Burton, mounted on his saddle horse,saw a chance to say a few words.

  "Good people," he shouted, "every act down on my bills is faithfullygiven exactly as represented. I tolerate no misstatements in any ofmy paper. The gallant young motorist, who has exhibited his a?roplaneto you this afternoon in an act more thrilling than even the mostimaginative showman could advertise, is but one of many artists ofworld-wide reputation whom I have secured, at fabulous expense, toamuse you behind yonder tented walls. This is the only show now on theroad to give, absolutely free, such a grand outdoor flying machineexhibition. Other acts, equally thrilling and instructive, will soon beperformed in the two large rings and on the elevated stage under themain canvas. The doors are now open."

  With that Boss Burton, having secured probably the greatestadvertisement his show had ever received, rode off in the direction ofthe tents.

  While the crowd followed, and Matt and McGlory found themselves, forthe first time, able to have a little heart-to-heart talk, they drewoff to one side and began making the most of their opportunity.

  "Say, pard," said the cowboy glumly, "I'm about ready to quit thisa?roplane business."

  "Why?" asked Matt.

  "There's not money enough in the country to pay me for going throughwhat I did when I saw you swinging aloft with the cobra."

  "You saw it?" queried Matt.

  "That's what I did, and I yelled and tried to let you know about it,but the crowd was making so much noise you couldn't hear."

  Dusk was beginning to fall, and the gasoline torches about the showgrounds leaped out like dazzling fireflies. McGlory stared at themthoughtfully for a space, then passed a handkerchief across his dampforehead.

  "It don't pay," he muttered. "You take all the risk, Matt, and Ping andI just slop around and kick you off when you make your jump skyward.I'd rather, enough sight, have been up in the machine with you thanstanding down here on the ground, watching and worrying."

  Matt did not dismiss his cowboy pard's words with the careless laugh heusually had for such sage remarks.

  "It's all nonsense, of course," said he, "your talking about me takingall the risk and doing all the work. I fly the machine because I'm theonly one who can do it, but you help me in other ways that are just asimportant. I'm in the air for perhaps thirty minutes each day, whileyou're on the ground, old pard, and watching things during every hourof the twenty-four."

  "Watching things!" exploded McGlory. "Speak to me about that! How welldo I watch things? Did I see the Hindoo when he hitched that bag withthe snake to the a?roplane? It was my business to get onto that, and Ididn't know until you had left the road and were too far up to hear me.That's what I'm kicking about. I fell down--and I'm to blame for thewhole bloomin' mishap."

  "You're not," said Matt sharply, "and I won't have you say so. It'suseless to harp on such things, anyhow, Joe, so let's discuss somethingof more importance."

  "The way you fooled the cobra? Why, that's----"

  "Not that, either. The bag tied to the a?roplane has the name of theshow lettered on it, so----"

  "Burton and I both discovered that," interrupted McGlory. "Carter hadtwo bags containing the show money. We already had one, and that bag'sthe other. Wait, and I'll get it."

  McGlory dived under the lower wing of the machine and groped aboutuntil he found the bag.

  "There was nothing in it but the snake," said he, as he rejoined Matt."It was a bagful of trouble, all right, at that. Fine two-tongueperformance the Hindoo gave when he said he had sold the snake.Suffe
rin' Ananias! I suspected him of putting the bag there the minuteI saw the cobra crawling up onto the lower wing, behind you and Le Bon."

  "Did you hunt for the fellow?" asked Matt.

  "_Did_ we! Why, Burton had every man that could be spared from the showchasing 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: Hetried to make Rajah wreck the a?roplane, and he tried his best to getyou and the cobra mixed up while in the air. Why? What's his reason foractin' like that?"

  "Give it up, Joe. Not only has Dhondaram done all that, but he haslifted 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 inwhat purported to be song:

  "Hi le, hi lo, hi le, hi lo, Bei uns gets immer je l?nger 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 athousand."

  "But what the nation is he coming with?" cried McGlory, peering alongthe 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 cartsdriven by the clowns in the parade. The Dutch boy was walking ahead andleading the donkey.

  "Hooray for der greadt tedectif!" whooped Carl, bringing the donkeyoutfit to a halt. "Modor Matt, I haf dit vat you say."

  "What have you done, Carl?" returned Matt curiously.

  "Come aroundt by der cart und take a look!"

  Thereupon Carl caught Matt's arm and led him to the cart. The cart wassmall and mounted on low wheels, and Matt and McGlory had no difficultyin looking down into it.

  Ping, his hands and feet tied together, was roped to the seat. Suddenlyhe set up a wail.

  "My velly bad China boy!" he whimpered, "velly bad China boy. MotolMatt, you no like Ping ally mo'."

  "Dot's vat I dit," observed Carl, puffing out his chest, folding hisarms, and striking an attitude. "I ketch der shink, like vat you say,und he shpeak oudt himseluf dot he don'd vas any goot. Vat I tellyou ven ve vas at subber, hey? I vas der greadest tedectif vat eferhabbened, I bed you."

 
Stanley R. Matthews's Novels