“I suppose so, dear. But don’t go far, and promise me you’ll be back for supper.”
“Oh, we will! I’m sure of that!” Linda replied, as she bent over and kissed her aunt.
The words she spoke were sincere; the “Ladybug” was in perfect shape, and Linda truly meant to plan her flight so that she would be back in Green Falls before sunset, but, of course, she could not know that circumstances would step in and prevent her.
Fifteen minutes later, she and her chum, Dot Crowley—diminutive in size, but bubbling over with spirits and capable to the tips of her fingers, stepped into the autogiro, adjusted the self-starter and left the earth behind. It was a beautiful summer day, without a cloud in the sky, and the girls were as happy as birds.
Linda directed her “Ladybug” straight across Lake Michigan, over the heads of the swimmers and above the boats, for the shores of Wisconsin. An invigorating breeze was blowing, so that the girls were glad of their sweaters and helmets, and they laughed and sang as they flew.
It was over a hundred miles across the lake, but the autogiro took the distance with the ease of a motor car. On and on they went, pressing into Wisconsin, leaving the lake behind. When they finally landed in a field for their lunch, Linda confessed that she didn’t know just where they were.
“Why, it’s two o’clock, Linda!” exclaimed Dot, as she dived into the lunch box for a sandwich.
“No wonder I’m hungry.”
“So am I!” agreed her companion. “But I guess we better not go any further, Dot. We must get home to supper.”
“I wish we didn’t have to. You know what I love, Linda—flying over the lake. I always have adored all kinds of water sports, but honestly, flying over water beats everything.”