"You've already admitted it," Helen replied.

"I have?" he laughed. "How?"

"Less than five minutes ago you said 'And you want a story about my world flight in return for keeping quiet about the accident?' That certainly indicates that you are seriously considering such a project."

Rand laughed and shook his head.

"I guess I might as well give in," he chuckled. "I've been questioned in every city I've been in and so far I've managed to evade confirming the rumor but it looks like you've got me in a corner. If I don't tell you, will you still spread the story about the accident?"

"No," replied Helen quickly. "Mr. Provost has too much at stake to risk ruining his celebration. It was foolish on your part to take the risk you did and we're trusting that there won't be any more such risks taken by the air circus while it is here."

"You're right. There won't be," said Rand firmly, "and I've learned a lesson myself."

"You're actually planning the world flight?" asked Tom, who wanted to get Rand back on the subject of Helen's a.s.signment.

"I can't get away from you," smiled the flyer, "so I might as well give you all of the details. Got some copypaper?"

Helen fished a pad of paper and a pencil from a pocket and handed them to Rand.

"If you don't mind," he explained, "I'll jot down the princ.i.p.al names of the foreign towns where I'll make the refueling contacts. Some of them have queer names and it will help you keep them straight."

The flyer drew a rough sketch of the world, outlining the continents of the northern hemisphere. He located New York on the map and then drew a dotted line extending eastward across the North Atlantic, over Great Britain, Germany, Russia, Siberia, a corner of China, out over the Kamchatka peninsula, across the Bering Sea, over Alaska and then almost a straight line back to New York.

"This is my proposed route," he explained, "covering some 15,000 miles.

It will take about four days if I have good luck and am not forced down."

"But I thought the distance around the world was 25,000 miles," said Margaret.

"That's the circ.u.mference at the equator," smiled Rand, "but I'm going to make the trip well up in the northern lat.i.tudes. In fact, I'll be pretty close to the Arctic circle part of the time."

Rand bent over his makeshift map again, marking in the names of the cities where he intended to refuel while in flight.

"When will you take off from New York?" Helen asked.

"In about two weeks," replied Rand without looking up from the map.

Helen gasped. This, indeed, was news. Every paper in the land would carry it on the front page.

"What kind of a plane do you intend to use?" Tom wanted to know.

"I'm having one built to order," said the flyer. "It's a special monoplane the Skycraft Company is testing now at their factory in Pennsylvania. I had a telegram yesterday saying the plane would be ready the first of next week so when I leave Sandy Point I'll go directly to Pennsylvania to get the plane and make the final tests myself. The air circus will finish its summer tour alone."

Before they reached the landing at Sandy Point, Rand explained how he intended to refuel while in flight, gave Helen the name of his mechanic and described details of the plane.

When they touched the landing at Sandy Point a heavyset man dressed in brown coveralls jumped into the boat.

"What in heaven's name happened?" he asked Rand excitedly.

"I flew too close to this motor boat," said the flyer, "and damaged my landing gear on the wave it was pulling. Instead of coming back here to crack up I went across the lake and landed in a meadow. These young people followed and brought me back. I banged the ship up considerable and in return for keeping them quiet, I gave them the story about my world flight. They're newspaper folks."

The heavy man stared at Helen, Tom and Margaret.

"Well, I guess it had to come out some time," he admitted and Rand introduced him as Tiny Adams, his manager of the air circus.

"Tiny runs the show when I go gallivanting around on some fool stunt,"

explained Rand.

Even at that early hour the crowd was gathering at Sandy Point. Motor boats were whisking down the lake from Rolfe and the beautiful beach was thick with bathers in for a morning dip in the clear waters of the lake.

They hurried off the boat dock and pushed their way through the crowd along the lake sh.o.r.e.

"I'm going to the hotel and telephone my story to the a.s.sociated Press,"

said Helen. "And thanks so much, Mr. Rand, for confirming it."

"That's all right," grinned the famous flyer. "I guess you youngsters deserve the break. You certainly were after the news and I appreciate you're keeping quiet about my accident."

"We'll have to print it in our weekly," warned Tom.

"Oh, that's all right," said Rand. "The celebration will be over long before your paper comes out. See you at the field later," he added as he hurried away, followed by the manager of the air circus.

Helen stood for a moment looking after the tall flyer as he edged his way through the ever-increasing crowd.

"Isn't he handsome?" sighed Margaret.

"What a story," commented Tom.

"Let's get going," said Helen, and she started for the hotel.

They reached the rambling old hotel which overlooked the lake and were met at the door by Art Provost, the manager of the resort.

"Glad to see you down so early," he said as he welcomed them.

"We thought we'd get here before the crowd," Tom said, "but from the looks of the young mob down at the beach now they must have started coming in about sundown last night."

"They did," chuckled Mr. Provost. "Looks like the greatest celebration in the history of Lake Dubar. It's the air circus that's drawing them in and I hope there are no accidents."

Helen glanced at Tom, warning her brother not to reply.

"I've met 'Speed' Rand," she said, "and I think you'll find him a careful flyer. I'm sure he'll insist on every possible precaution."

They went into the lobby of the hotel and Helen entered the telephone booth. She started to put in a long distance call for the a.s.sociated Press, then changed her mind and returned to where Tom and Margaret were waiting.

"I'm so nervous I'm afraid I won't be able to talk," she said. "Feel my hands."

Tom and Margaret did as Helen directed. They found her hands clammy with perspiration.

"I think I'll sit down and write the story and telegraph it," said Helen.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," insisted Tom. "Here, I'll put the call through and you just repeat what Rand told you. They'll write the story at the Cranston bureau."