Special policemen made a path for the aviator and his friends, while cries of:
“Take off your helmet!”
“We want to see you!”
“What’s the matter with Number Six?” and a hundred other cries arose.
But the driver of Number Six did not respond, and with his helmet still on his head was conducted before the judges to receive their congratulations. The helmet was still in place when Fanning Harding came shoving through the crowd and finally reached the little group.
“As a competitor I demand that Number Six take off his helmet!” he cried.
The judges turned to him in astonishment.
“This is most unseemly, sir,” said one of them; “no doubt in good time Mr. Prescott will take off his helmet.”
“Oh, no, he won’t,” shouted Fanning, at whom all the group was now gazing. “He won’t, I tell you, and for a good reason, too. That’s not Roy Prescott at all, but his sister Peggy.”
But the words had not left his lips before Jimsy, with a quick motion, jerked off the aviator’s helmet and disclosed the handsome, perspiring features of Roy himself.