"Going to double the prices of everything?" asked Helen.

"Nope. Goin' to have so many things for folks to do they'll spend everything they got before they leave."

"In that case," replied Helen, "I see where I stay at home. I'm a notorious spendthrift when it comes to celebrating the Fourth."

"I should say you're not goin' to stay home," said Mr. Provost. "You and your mother and Tom are goin' to be my guests. I've got your pa.s.ses all filled out. Swim, ride in the boats, dance, roller skate, see the ball games, enjoy any of the 'thrill rides' you want to. Won't cost you a cent."

"But I can't accept them," protested Helen. "We'll pay if we come down.

Besides, we didn't give you all of those bills for nothing."

"Seemed mighty near nothin' compared with the prices all the other printers in the county wanted," smiled Mr. Provost. "You've been down every week writin' items about the folks who come here and, believe me, I appreciate it. These pa.s.ses are just a little return of the courtesy you've shown me this summer."

"When you put it that way, I can scarcely refuse them," laughed Helen.

"As a matter of fact," she added, "I wanted them terribly for we honestly couldn't afford to come otherwise."

When Helen returned to the office she told Tom about the pa.s.ses and he agreed that acceptance of them would not place the _Herald_ under obligation to the resort owner.

"I always thought old man Provost a pretty good scout," he said, "but I hardly expected him to do this. And say, these pa.s.ses are good for both Sat.u.r.day and Sunday. What a break!"

"If we see everything Sat.u.r.day we'll be so tired we won't want to go back Sunday," Helen said. "Besides, Mother has some pretty strong ideas on Sunday celebrations."

The telephone rang and Helen hastened into the editorial office to answer.

She talked rapidly for several minutes, jotting down notes on a pad of scratch paper. When she had finished, she hurried back into the composing room.

"Tom," she cried, "that was Mr. Provost calling."

"Did he cancel the pa.s.ses?"

"I should say not. He called to say he had just received a telegram from the Ace Flying Circus saying it would be at Sandy Point to do stunt flying and carry pa.s.sengers for the Fourth of July celebration."

"Why so excited about that? We've had flying circuses here before."

"Yes, I know, Tom, but 'Speed' Rand is in charge of the Ace outfit this year."

"'Speed' Rand!" whistled Tom. "Well, I should say that was different.

That's news. Why Rand's the man who flew from Tokyo to Seattle all alone.

Other fellows had done it in teams but Rand is the only one to go solo.

He's big news in all of the dailies right now. Everyone is wondering what daredevil stunt he'll do next."

"He's very good looking and awfully rich," smiled Helen.

"Flies just for fun," added Tom. "With all of the oil land he's got he doesn't have to worry about work. Tell you what, I'll write to the _Cranston Chronicle_ and see if they'll send us a cut of Rand. It would look fine on the front page of this week's issue."

"Oh," exclaimed Helen "I almost forgot the most important part of Mr.

Provost's call. He wants you to get out 10,000 half page bills on the Ace Flying Circus. Here are the notes. He said for you to write the bill and run them off as soon as you can."

The order for the bills put Tom behind on his work with the paper and it was late Thursday afternoon before Helen started folding that week's issue. But they didn't mind being late. The bill order from Sandy Point had meant another piece of profitable job work and Mr. Provost had also taken a half page in the _Herald_ to advertise the coming of his main attraction for the Fourth. Mrs. Blair came down to help with the folding and Margaret Stevens, just back from a vacation in the north woods with her father, arrived in time to lend a hand.

"Nice trip?" Helen asked as she deftly folded the printed sheets.

"Wonderful," smiled Margaret, "but I'm glad to get back. I missed helping you and Tom. Honestly, I get a terrific thrill out of reporting."

"We're glad to have you back," replied Helen, "and I think Mr. Provost down at Sandy Point will be glad to give me an extra pa.s.s for the Fourth.

I'll tell him you're our star reporter."

"I'd rather go to Crescent Beach for the Fourth," said Margaret. "It's newer and much more ritzy than Sandy Point."

"You'd better stop and look at the front page carefully," warned Tom, who had shut off the press just in time to hear Margaret's words.

She stopped folding papers long enough to read the type under the two column picture on the front page.

"What!" she exclaimed, "'Speed' Rand coming here?"

"None other and none such," laughed Tom. "Guaranteed to be the one and only 'Speed' Rand. Step right this way folks for your airplane tickets.

Five dollars for five minutes. See the beauty of Lake Dubar from the air.

Don't crowd, please."

"Do you still want me to get a pa.s.s?" Helen asked. "It will be honored any place at Sandy Point during the celebration and Mr. Provost says we can all have rides with the air circus 'Speed' Rand is running."

"I should say I do want a pa.s.s," said Margaret. "At least it's some advantage to being a newspaper woman besides just the fun of it."

The famous Ace air circus of half a dozen planes roared over Rolfe just before sunset Friday night and the whole town turned out to see them and try to identify the plane which "Speed" Rand was flying.

The air circus was flying in two sections, three fast, trim little biplanes that led the way, followed by three large cabin planes used for pa.s.senger carrying. Every ship was painted a brilliant scarlet and they looked like tongues of flames darting through the sky, the afternoon sun glinting on their wings.

The air circus swung over Rolfe in a wide circle and the leading plane dropped down out of the sky, its motor roaring so loud the windows in the houses rattled in their frames.

"He's going to crash!" cried Margaret.

"Nothing of the kind," shouted Tom, who had read widely of planes and pilots and flying maneuvers. "That's just a power dive--fancy flying."

Tom was right. When the scarlet biplane seemed headed for certain destruction the pilot pulled its nose up, levelled off, shot over Rolfe at dizzying speed and then climbed his craft back toward the fleecy, lazy white clouds.

"That's Rand," announced Tom with a certainty that left no room for argument. "He's always up to stunts like that."

"It must be awfully dangerous," said Helen as she watched the plane, now a mere speck in the sky.

"It is," agreed Tom. "Everything depends on the motor in a dive like that. If it started to miss some editor would have to write that particular flyer's obituary."

The morning of Sat.u.r.day, the Fourth, dawned clear and bright. Small boys whose idea of fun was to arise at four o'clock and spend the next two hours throwing cannon crackers under windows had their usual good time and Tom and Helen, unable to sleep, were up at six o'clock. Half an hour later Margaret Stevens, also awakened by the almost continuous cannonading of firecrackers, came across the street.

"Jim Preston is going to take us down the lake on his seven-thirty trip before the special trains and the big crowds start coming in," said Tom.

"But I'd like to see the trains come in," protested Helen.

"If we wait until then," explained Tom, "we'll be caught in the thick of the rush for the boats and we may never get to Sandy Point. We'd better take the seven-thirty boat."