"You stay out of it," he repeated.
Roy and Jimsy were almost dumfounded. The man's tone was one of actual
command.
"Why? Why should we stay out of it?" demanded Roy.
"The mayor of the town has asked us to take part," came from Jimsy;
"what have you got to do with it?"
"It's this way," said the man in rather a less overbearing way than he
had hitherto adopted; "we're going about the country giving flights. The
city gives us the park in this town and we get so much of the receipts.
But we rely on winning the prizes, see. Now if you kids butt in, why
you might win some of them and that knocks my profit out. Get me?"
"I understand you, if that's what you mean," rejoined Roy; "but I still
fail to see why we should not compete if we want to."
The man placed his hand on the boy's shoulder impressively.
"'Cos if you do it'll make trouble for you, sonny."
"Who'll make it?" flashed back Roy indignantly.
"I will, son, and I'm some trouble maker when I start anything along
them lines, take it from me."
He turned on his heel, stuck his cigar at a more acute angle in the side
of his mouth, and strode off, leaving the two boys dumfounded.
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