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 arena. At first, only me and a small part of the attendance looked up. There was nothin' unusual in the sight and what they craved to see was Kid Roberts. Well, they seen him!

To the amazement of the crowd, the plane begins a series of absolutely maniacal stunts right over the ring. Loop-the-loops, fallin' leafs, barrel rolls, nose dives, tail spins, flyin' upside down and dizzy side slips that soon had a steady roar of "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" comin' from the crowd, every face of which was now turned upward. Knockout Ford's handlers stared gapin'ly into the sky, but Ford and his manager was grinnin' from ear to ear into my horrified face, because they knew who was the passenger in that plane and so did I!

At last the plane swoops down and comes to a landin' in a clear space over by the dressin' rooms, me and Ptomaine reachin' it whilst the propeller was still whirlin' to a stop. Ptomaine bellers like a angry bull when he sees Kid Roberts, chalk-faced and limp, strapped to the passenger's seat, but I was past bellerin' as I rushed to the Kid's side and begin to unstrap him. The aviator, a burly giant, starts to climb out with a sneerin' grin which instantly left his face like magic. Ptomaine's iron fist, with two hundred pounds of ragin' bone and muscle behind it, caught him flush on the chin and he crashed against the side of his machine to drop to the turf as if struck by lightnin'! For that, I reached in my pocket and crammed Ptomaine's five-hundred-buck "fine" back in his willin' hands. We half lifted the dazed Kid Roberts out of his seat and