"Mr. Parks," said Andy, in a quick breath, and colored up and paused suddenly. "I'd be glad to try it. Say the word, and I'll train day and night for the race."

"Andy, win it, and half of that five thousand dollars is yours."

From excitement and incoherency, the little group got down to a serious discussion of the situation during the next half hour.

"It's just one week from the race," said Andy. "What can't I do in learning to run the _Racing Star_ in that time?"

"Andy, you must make it," declared Parks energetically. "It just seems as if my heart would break if we lost this record."

Mr. Morse got out a chart he had drawn of the run to be made on the twenty-first of the month.

"The course is very nearly a straight one," explained Parks; "from the grounds here to Springfield, where the State fair is going on. Pace will be set by a Central Northern train, carrying a.s.sistants and repairs. The fleet will be directed by a large American flag floating from the rear of the train. It's almost a beeline, Andy, and the _Racing Star_ is built for speed."

They made another ascent the next morning. Air and breeze conditions were most favorable for the try-out. Seated amidships, wearing a leather jacket, cap and gloves, Andy had the motor keyed up to its highest speed. The quick sequence of its exhaust swelled like a rapid-fire gun.

The machine rolled forward, the propellers beat the air, and the _Racing Star_ rose on a smooth parabola. Andy attempted some volplane skits that were fairly hair-raising. He raced with real birds. He practiced with the wind checks. For half an hour he kept up a series of practice stunts of the most difficult character.

"Oh, but you're a crack scholar, Andy Nelson," declared the delighted Parks, as the _Racing Star_ came to moorings again, light as a feather.

"I think myself I am getting on to most of the curves," said Andy. "The only question is can I keep it up on a long stretch?"

"Practice makes perfect, you know," suggested Mr. Morse.

Andy felt that he had about reached the acme of his mechanical ambition.

When he went to bed that night the thought of the coming race kept him awake till midnight. When he finally went to sleep, it was to dream of aerial flights that resolved themselves into a series of the most exciting nightmares.

No developments came from Andy's experience with the Duske crowd. Once in a while he worried some over the reference of Duske's companions to seeing his name in the newspapers.

"Either it was about my trouble at Princeville, or some of these reporters writing up the race got my name incidentally," decided Andy.

"Anyhow, I can't afford to trouble about it."

Andy rarely ventured away from the camp after dark. In fact, ever since entering the employment of Mr. Parks he had not mixed much with outsiders. He had his Princeville friends and the Duske crowd constantly in mind. But one hot evening he went forth for some ice cream for the crowd.

The distance to a town restaurant was not great. Andy hurried across the freight tracks. Just as he pa.s.sed a switchman's shanty, he fancied he heard some one utter a slight cry of surprise. Two persons dodged back out of the light of a switch lantern. Andy, however, paid little attention to the episode. He reached the restaurant, got the ice cream in a pasteboard box, and started back for the camp without any mishap or adventure.

Just as Andy crossed a patch of ground covered with high rank weeds, he became aware that somebody was following him. A swift backward glance revealed two slouching figures. They pressed forward as Andy momentarily halted.

"Now then!" spoke one of them suddenly.

Andy dodged as something was thrown towards him, but not in time to avoid a looped rope. It was handled deftly, for before he knew it his hands were bound tightly to his side.

One of the twain ran at him and tripped him up. The other twined the loose line about Andy's ankles.

"Got him!" sounded a triumphant voice.

"Good business," chirped his companion, and then Andy thrilled in some dismay, as he recognized his captors as Gus Talbot and Dale Billings.

"h.e.l.lo, Andy Nelson," said Gus Talbot.

Gus's voice was sneering and offensive as he hailed the captive. His companion looked satisfied and triumphant as he stood over Andy, as if he expected their victim to applaud him for doing something particularly smart.

"See here, Gus," observed Dale, "I'd better get, hey?"

"Right off, too," responded Gus. "If there's the ready cash in it, all right. If there isn't we'll get him on the way to Princeville ourselves some way."

"Can you manage him alone?"

"I'll try to," observed Gus vauntingly, "I'll just have a pleasant little chat with him for the sake of old times, while I sample this ice cream of his-um-um-it ought to be prime."

Dale sped away on some mysterious errand. Gus picked up the box of ice cream that Andy had dropped and opened it. He tore off one of its pasteboard flaps, fashioned it into an impromptu spoon, and proceeded to fill his mouth with the cream.

"Don't you get up," he warned Andy. "If you do, I'll knock you down again."

"Big Injun, aren't you!" flared out Andy, provoked and indignant-"especially where you've got a fellow whipsawed?"

"Betcher life," sneered Gus maliciously. "Things worked to a charm. Got a hint from some airship fellows that you was somewhere around these diggings. Watched out for you and caught you just right, hey?"

The speaker sat down among the weeds in front of Andy. The latter noticed that his face was grimed and his hands stained with dirt. His clothes were wrinkled and disordered as if he had been sleeping in them.

From what he observed, Andy decided that the son of the Princeville garage owner and his companion were on a tramp. They looked like runaways, and did not appear to be at all prosperous.

"Say," blurted out Gus, digging down into the ice cream, as if he was hungry, "you might better have turned up that two hundred dollars for dad."

"Why had I?" demanded Andy.

"It would have saved you a good deal of trouble. It's a stroke of luck, running across you just as we'd spent our last dime. How will you like to go back to Princeville and face the music?"

"What music?"

"Oh, yes, you don't know! Haven't read the papers, I suppose? Didn't know you was wanted?"

"Who wants me?"

"Nor that a reward was out for you?"

"Why?"

"Say, are you so innocent as all that, or just plain slick?" drawled Gus, with a crafty grin.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Farmer Jones' barn."

"Oh--" Andy gave a start. He began to understand now. "What about Farmer Jones' barn?"

"You know, I guess. It was set on fire and burned down. They have been looking everywhere for the firebug, and offer a fifty-dollar reward."

"Is that the reason why you and Dale have left Princeville?" demanded Andy coolly.