He had seen the signal corps man, whose duty it was to fire the bombs, outstretching himself on the ground awaiting the signal to touch off the starting sign.
But even as Jimsy spoke, the Golden Butterfly made a swift turn and, amid a roar from the crowd, shot whirring past the grandstand and alighted in front of the stand on the starting line.
Hardly had the wheels touched the ground before the judge in charge of the track raised his hand. A flag fell and the signal corps man jerked his arm back, firing the bomb that announced the start.
B-o-o-o-o-m!
As the detonation died out the aeroplanes shot forward, rising into the still air almost in a body, like a flock of birds. It was a spectacle never to be forgotten, and the crowd appreciated it to the full.
But up in the grandstand, in inconspicuous places, sat three persons who did not look as well pleased as those about them.
“So the girl is going to take a chance,” muttered Fanning Harding; “well, so much the worse for her. If she wins I’ll put in a protest and compel her to unmask.”
“Won’t that Prescott and Bancroft bunch be astonished when they find out that we are on to their little game,” chuckled Jukes Dade; “it’ll be as good as a play.”
“That’s what it will,” grinned Gid.
“They’ll find out that they can’t humiliate me and not suffer for it,” grated out Fanning.