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The place that Panatella had chosen for the start of his balloon ascension was a field upon the crest of the Palisades above the amusement park. Panatella had brought with him from abroad a reputation for dare-devil adventures in the air. And he had proved his reckless courage in the several brief ascensions that he had already made on this side.
"You and Frances didn't just seem to hit it off," commented my companion with a proffer of his cigar-case, "or rather Frances liked you all right, but you " He broke off with an amused smile and busied himself with the kindling of a panatella. A man can hardly explain to his fellow-man, "I was rude to your wife because I love her.
They're a fool notion of the old man, for we can't sell one in a month." Hopalong dug up a handful and threw one on the counter, lighting another: "Yu light a Cortez panatella with me," he said, pocketing the remainder. "That's five simoleons she didn't get. So long." He journeyed to Tom Lee's and found his outfit making merry.
Besides, when he's along he keeps you from being silly." Harry stamped out to the garage, swung a new touring car around to the door, and soon, with Owen and Pauline, was speeding for the ferry. Signor Panatella was superintending the filling of the great gas bag. He was a tall, lithe man in pink tights beneath which his muscles bulged angularly like the gas filling the balloon bag.
For, as a hand was suddenly lifted in the midst of the crowd the horse apparently overcame the legs braced to spring, it shot forward directly at the balloon basket. The hand that had been raised was the hand of Raymond Owen. All was happening so swiftly that neither Harry nor Panatella reached the basket before the maddened animal. The crowd had given way in panic before it.
Calling his household about him, Mr. Grabbitall rushed into the dental parlor, beat the dentist down with his bill, dragged Gasolene Panatella home and locked her up in the rear cupboard of the spare room on the second floor of the mansion. Her teeth suffered somewhat, but, thank Heaven! her money will remain in this country.
One of these days he'll be the one getting the real stuff and putting it through, too, from tip to type, without a rewrite man or a copy reader touching it. Let 'em wait! "In a balloon? Where?" The suddenly vibrant voice of the city editor talking over the telephone caused Bassett to lower his paper and hushed even the chatter of the office boys. "Palisades Panatella; yes. Who's the girl?
"It's very nice to be wanted," she answered, "but sit over there across the hearth and light your cigar. It's gone out." Paul looked down resentfully at the cigar and lifted his hand to toss it away, but the girl laid her fingers on his wrist and laughed. "No," she commanded. "Smoke it. Tobacco is soothing and I like the fragrance. It's a Romney panatella, isn't it?"
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