“Jimsy surely is a good-looking boy,” she said, “if he hadn’t a pug nose.”
“A pug nose!” flared up Peggy. “Oh, Jess, how can––”
Then she stopped short in confusion while Jess laughed the more at her discomfiture.
Young Mr. Homer lost no time in starting operations. He ordered his helpers to secure the machine to a small tree growing nearby by means of a stout rope Roy had brought with him. This done, and the monoplane thus secured from flying away when her engine was started, he set the sparking and gasolene levers and threw in the switch. Roy and Jimsy, the latter acting under Roy’s instructions, flew to the propeller.
The Golden Butterfly being a monoplane, this was in front of the machine.
“Be careful when you feel it start, to leap aside,” warned Roy, “or you might be beheaded.”
“I never lose my head in an emergency,” joked Jimsy.
But just the same his heart beat, as did those of all of them but Hal Homer’s, as he and Roy started to swing the great shiny wooden driving appliance.
Once, twice, three times they swung it round, exerting all their force. The fourth time they were rewarded by a feeble sigh from the engine—a sixty horse power motor.
All at once—Bang!