The Motor Boys in the Clouds; or, A Trip for Fame and Fortune

"Hello, Ned! Say, Jerry, have you heard the news?"

"What news, Chunky?"

"Why, about the carnival. It's going to be great. I thought sure you'd heard about it. Why, there's going to be--"

"Look here, Bob Baker," remarked Jerry Hopkins, rolling over in the grass, where he was stretched out under a big maple tree, "do you know it's about ninety in the shade to-day?"

"Sure I know it," replied Bob, breathing rather quickly, for he was quite stout, as his nickname of "Chunky" implied; and he had hurried from his house to see his two chums, Jerry Hopkins and Ned Slade.

"Well, then, if you're aware of that interesting and very evident fact, why do you come around here, puffing like a steam engine, and making all sorts of a row, while Ned and I are trying to keep cool and improve our minds?" asked Jerry, pretending to be angry. "Why do you do it, I ask?"

"I thought you'd be anxious to hear the news."

"What news?"

"Oh, don't bother, Chunky," put in Ned, stretching and yawning. "The best news you could tell us now would be that there was a freezer full of ice cream somewhere within easy reach. If you're not ready to tell us something like that, why, take a stretch down here in the shade, and don't puff so. You make me warm."

"Well, say, if you don't want to hear this, all right," replied Bob, a little put out at the manner in which his announcement had been received.

"Oh, don't bother with him, Chunky," yawned Jerry. "If you have any news to tell, let it go. I'm listening. What's it about? Has our gold mine failed, or has Professor Snodgrass discovered some new species of man-eating hoptoad?"

"It's got nothing to do with Professor Snodgrass, or our gold mine, either," responded Bob. "But there's going to be a great carnival at Broadlands, and I thought maybe--"

"Carnival? You mean a county fair, I suppose," interrupted Ned. "Excuse me. I can see all the cattle and mowing machines I want right here at home."

"I guess your dad must have made you mow the front lawn this morning, eh, Ned?" inquired Jerry with a grin.

"That's what he did, and it's no front parlor of a lawn, either. I don't ever want to see a lawn-mower again. But here comes Bob, all excited over a county fair, where all they have to eat is frankfurters, popcorn and ice cream cones."

"Oh, is that so?" retorted the stout youth rather indignantly. "Well, if you're so smart, did you ever hear of a county fair in July, before the crops are in?"

"He's got you there, Ned," said Jerry.

"Well, what kind of a carnival is it?" asked the youth who had endeavored to discount Bob's news. "Why don't you tell us your story, instead of hemming and hawing around here, like an automobile that's run out of gasolene and has a spark-plug that's gone on the fritz? Why don't you, eh?"

"I will, if you'll give me a chance. There's going to be a carnival over at Broadlands and--"

"You said that once before," reminded Ned.

"Go ahead, don't mind him," advised Jerry.

"It's going to be a balloon and aeroplane carnival," went on Chunky. "All sorts of airships are to be exhibited, and there are going to be races. It's going to be great! They're just putting up the posters all around town."

"Is that straight?" asked Ned, for Bob was sometimes inclined to joke.

"Sure it is. Come on and I'll show you the posters. There's one on our side fence. I let the man stick it there."

"And maybe your dad will make you take it off," said Jerry.

"I don't care. I wanted to have a chance to read it. But this carnival is going to be all right. As soon as I heard of it I ran to find you two fellows. Why can't we go and take it in? It's only about seventy-five miles to Broadlands. There are good roads, and we can go in our auto."

"That's the stuff! When is it?" asked Jerry.

"Next week. It lasts six days."

"If it's as hot as this the gas balloons will explode with the heat," predicted Ned.

"Oh, it'll cool off before then," declared Jerry. "But what else, Bob? Did you look to see who any of the entries were by? Are the Wright brothers going to compete? Will Zeppelin send his big, long aluminum balloon over from Germany? Captain Baldwin ought to be on hand, anyhow."

"I didn't notice any of those names. I don't believe any of those big inventors will be on hand, but I can tell you one person who's going to have an entry."

Bob's manner was so earnest, and he seemed so worked up over his news, that both Ned and Jerry lost their half-bantering air, and began to be seriously interested.

"Who is it?" inquired Jerry.

"Noddy Nixon."

"What? Noddy? That chump going to exhibit an airship?"

"I don't know that it's exactly an airship," answered Bob. "But it's some sort of a machine for sailing above the earth, or it wouldn't be allowed at the carnival."

"But Noddy Nixon, of all the fellows in the world!" commented Jerry.

"It does seem sort of queer," admitted Bob. "That's what drew my attention to the posters. I saw Noddy's name on them."

"Is his name on the posters?" chorused his two companions.

"Sure. He's one of the entrants; I believe that's the proper word," said Bob, grinning. "His machine is called the Firefly."

"Does he expect to sail it himself?"

"What sort of a shebang is it?"

"Why didn't you tell us before?"

"Queer we didn't hear anything about it. He must have been keeping it quiet."

"Where did he get the gumption to invent it?"

These, and other questions and comments, Bob's two chums asked of him so quickly that he had no chance to reply.

"That's all I know about it," he said, when Ned and Jerry had to stop to get their breaths. "What's the matter with taking a run over to Broadlands and finding out more about it? Maybe we could get up a machine ourselves."

"Not if the carnival takes place next week," replied Jerry, though there was a new look on his face-a look which his companions knew indicated that he was thinking deeply. Indeed, Bob's news had created quite an impression on Jerry, and in a measure it was responsible for a series of strange happenings which took place after that, and in which the motor boys played conspicuous parts.

"And is that all you can tell us?" asked Ned. "What sort of a machine has Noddy?"

The interest of Ned and his two companions, in what Noddy was about to take part in, was not lessened by the fact that young Nixon, the town bully, was their enemy, and, in the past, had done much to annoy and injure them, though, usually, his mean schemes went for naught, because of the bravery and activity of the three boys against whom he had a grudge.

"That's all I know-what the posters said," replied Ned. "His name is only one of about twenty, I guess. There are pictures of all sorts of airships, but I didn't see any that looked like a firefly."

"Queer," murmured Jerry. "I wonder what sort of a machine Noddy has?"

"I can tell you," exclaimed a voice behind the motor boys. "It's great-regular fly-tin wings-flop up and down-faster than you can count-whoop! there they go-up goes the machine-down again-round in a circle-flip-flap-flop! Start the motor-twist the rudder-look out-here she comes-that's the way!"

And the speaker, a small youth, very much excited, had to stop, for he was out of breath, so rapidly had he talked.

"Oh, it's Andy Rush. No need to turn around to tell that, boys," remarked Jerry, stretching out in the grass again. "Well, Andy, aren't some of your cylinders hot after that sprint?"

"I guess so-I don't know-heard you talking about Noddy Nixon-his airship-thought you wouldn't mind-I came up closer-I heard about it-I've seen it-it's great-say--"

"Have an ice-cream soda," interrupted Ned, pretending to hand one to the excited little fellow.

"Aw, quit," begged Andy reproachfully.

"That's right, let him tell us about it," suggested Jerry. "Now just shut off a little of your gasolene, retard your spark a bit, and you'll do better. How did you come to know about Noddy's machine?"

"Because he wanted me to try a flight in it. He needs some one who is light, and he asked me. But I wouldn't do it. I'm afraid," answered Andy Rush.

"Did you see it?" asked Ned eagerly.

"Sure. He had it built in Jenkinson's machine shop. But he's been keeping quiet about it. I guess he didn't want you fellows to get on to it, for fear you'd beat him out. He's been working on it for some time. Ever since he heard about the carnival."

Andy was speaking more quietly now, and his three auditors listened intently.

"And is it really shaped like a fly?" asked Jerry.

"It sure is. He took me over and showed it to me yesterday. That's when he wanted me to sail it for him. It's a big tin fly, with wings and everything. Oh, it's a queer-looking shebang. It's big, too."

"How does it run?" asked Bob.

"He's got a little motor on it, one he took out of his old auto, I guess. It makes the wings flap up and down."

"And he really thinks he can fly in it?" asked Ned.

"He's sure of it," replied Andy. "He told me how many flaps the wings made every second, but I've forgotten."

"What does he expect will make the machine rise in the air?" asked Jerry. "Has he aeroplanes or a balloon attached to it?"

"Nope. Nothing but a sort of car, shaped like a fly's body, and two wings on each side, with a tail in back like that of a fish. He says the flopping of the wings will make it rise up, same as a bird flies."

"Well, if that isn't the limit!" exclaimed Jerry. "He must be crazy. It is a heavy machine, Andy?"

"Sure. It takes four men to lift it."

"And he expects to make it rise up by vibrating tin wings," went on Jerry. "Well, he is a chump!"

"I am, eh? Well, maybe when you see me sailing along through the air you won't be so fresh!" exclaimed a new voice, and the four boys, looking up, saw Noddy Nixon, their enemy, standing not far away. He had come up through the fields back of Jerry Hopkins' house, where the chums were resting in the shade of a little grove, and he had overheard the closing sentences of their conversation.

"I'm a chump, am I?" he went on angrily. "Well, I've gotten the best of you more than once, Jerry Hopkins, and I'll do it again. The Firefly will fly, and I know it, and if you slander me or my machine any more I'll sue you for damages. I'll fix you, Andy Rush, for giving my secrets away!" and with an angry look on his mean, crafty face, Noddy Nixon advanced toward the little fellow.

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