“You know I’m going to learn to handle one,” declared Peggy, as Roy made off once more. “I know a good deal about the theoretical part of it already.”
“Well, theory wouldn’t do you much good in a mile-long tumble,” quoth Jess, sagely.
“Nonsense,” rejoined Peggy. “Mr. Homer says one is as safe in an aeroplane, if one is careful, as in an auto.”
“Safer I guess, the way that brother of mine drives sometimes,” replied Jess. “He calls it ‘burning up the road.’ But—oh, look, they’re casting off, or whatever it is you do to an airship when you turn her loose. Oh!”
Snatching off her motoring bonnet Jess began waving it furiously. While they had been talking the rope had been cast loose, and now, with Mr. Homer himself at the driving wheel, in cap and goggles, the engine was being started once more.
In wrapt excitement both girls stood breathless. So intent were they on the scene transpiring before them that they had not noticed the approach of a second auto on the road below. From it Fan Harding had alighted and hastened up the hill, after “parking” his machine, as if in fear that he would be too late to view the proceedings.
A sneering look was on his rather handsome face as he rapidly climbed the hill. He reached a position behind the two girls just as the aviator gave the signal to let go of the machine—to the rear structure of which Lem Sidney and Jeff Stokes were perspiringly clinging, their heels digging into the soft turf to steady themselves.
As Mr. Homer’s hand swung backward and downward they let go. Instantly, like an arrow from a bow, the monoplane—the work of Peggy and Roy—was off. How it scudded across the hill top! Blue smoke and flame shot from its exhaust. Its operator sat hunched over his machinery looking, with his goggles, like some creature of the lower regions. Peggy clasped her hands and stood a-tiptoe breathlessly as it scudded along.
“Oh, will it rise?” she breathed, her color coming and going in her excitement.
“I’ll bet ten dollars it won’t fly any more than an earthworm.”