All at once he gave a delighted shout. The aeroplane was beginning to descend. Down it came in big circles, while the farmer, his wife and the old hermit gazed open mouthed at it, as if half inclined to run.
But as it drew closer to the ground Roy noted a puzzling thing. A helmeted and goggled person was driving it, evidently a boy or man and not Peggy at all. Who could it be? For an instant a queer thought flashed through his head. Possibly somebody had stolen it and was making off across country with it so as to put it out of the race.
More and more rapidly the aeroplane began to drop as it neared the ground, and before many minutes it alighted in the patch of meadow in front of the farm house, gliding gracefully for several feet before it stopped.
But the rubber-tired landing wheels had not ceased revolving before Roy was at its side.
“Say, who are you, and what are you doing with my aeroplane?” he demanded in heated tones, for the helmeted aviator had not yet even deigned to notice him, but seemed to be busy with various levers and valves.
“Well, are you going to answer me?” sputtered Roy, while the farmer, his wife, the old hermit and the hired men gazed on curiously.
For answer the mysterious aviator raised his helmet and a cloud of golden curls fell about a milk-and-roses face.
“By gum, a gal and a purty one!” cried the farmer capering about.
“Peggy!” shouted Roy.
“Yes, Peggy,” cried the girl. “Oh, Roy, what has happened to you? When you didn’t come back Jess and Jimsy persuaded me to put on your clothes and at least try the Butterfly out. But I was so miserable that I could not try her out on the track, so I flew off across country. I saw you waving far below me and—oh, Roy!”