Amidst the chorus of protestations aroused by this ungallant speech Roy started the car. Swiftly it sped out of the grounds; but not so swiftly that the keen eyes of Lish Kelly did not see it.
He called Herman Le Roy, the Cuban aviator, to him.
"Le Roy, you are not in the altitude contest," he said, "hop in my car with me and we'll follow those kids. They're up to something."
The Cuban looked at him and smiled, showing two rows of white teeth under his small, dapperly curled mustache.
"I think, Señor Kelly, you have been up to something yourself."
"Well, you know what I told you. We want that five-hundred-dollar prize, Carlos, and by the looks of things if we don't do something those kids are likely to get it."
"They have fine machines," agreed the other.
"Yes; and they are equipped with a balancing device that makes them much more reliable than ours."
"A balancing device!" exclaimed the Cuban, as the two men got into the car, a small yellow runabout of racy appearance.
"That's what I said, and it's a good one, too. I read an account of it in an aviation paper; but the description was too sketchy for me to see how the thing was worked."