"H'I soy," shouted Morgan, "you forgot the bloomin' gasolene."

"Better put back and get it," growled Giles; "if you fellows had helped me a bit instead of givin' advice it wouldn't have bin forgotten."

"Oh, we can't bother with it now," struck in Fanning, impatiently, "we've plenty in the tank to take us back. I'm not going to delay any longer."

He spun over the fly wheel as he spoke and the motor boat began to cut rapidly through the water headed for Sandy Bay. As soon as it had gone a safe distance the three stranded young adventurers joined hands and executed a wild war dance of joy. By a means almost miraculous they had fallen across the very thing they needed.

"It's just like the story books!" cried Peggy, delightedly.

They raced down toward the coveted can, which was half full of the precious fuel. Enough to get them ash.o.r.e at any rate. Before returning to the stranded aeroplane they examined the hut, but found nothing in it but a few broken-down bits of furniture.

"Queer," commented Jeff, "I half expected to find something."

"Not likely," laughed Roy, "they're too foxy for that."

"What do you suppose they came to the island for?" asked Peggy.

"To get a quiet place to talk where they would not be observed by any one who knew them, I guess," rejoined her brother. "Oh, if only we could solve the mystery. It's tantalizing to be so close to it and yet with so many tangled ends left ravelled."

"Be patient," advised Peggy, "it will all come out in time. And now I'm as famished for lunch as the Golden b.u.t.terfly is, so lets fill up the tank and then head for home."

"Second the motion," laughed Jeff Stokes.

Half an hour later the Golden b.u.t.terfly once more rose, and without incident or mishap winged her way back to Rocky Point.

CHAPTER XIII.

JUKES DADE APPEARS.

The aviation field at Acatonick a few days before the big contests for juvenile aviators was alive with action and color. The spot selected was a flat, smooth field of some fifty acres on the outskirts of the town.

The gra.s.s spread a green carpet, thickly sprinkled with wild flowers, while at one side of the place was a row of green-painted sheds known as the "hangars."

"Hangar is French for shed," Peggy had explained to a group of friends from Sandy Bay whom she was showing over the grounds, "and I think that _shed_ is a whole lot better word than 'Ongar,' which is the way you are supposed to p.r.o.nounce it."

One of the sheds--as in deference to Peggy we shall call them--was of a different color, and stood somewhat apart from the rest. It was also much larger and bore in consequential-looking letters over its door the words:

"Harding Aeroplane Company. Keep Out."

And to see that this notice was enforced to the letter, Fanning Harding had installed a red-nosed watchman with a formidable club at the portal.

Considerable secrecy, in fact, had been observed concerning his aeroplane. Several large boxes had arrived one night and been hustled as quickly as possible into the shed.

The shed a.s.signed to Roy Prescott, happened, by an odd coincidence, to be next door to the Harding one. The second day of their stay at Acatonick, Roy, on coming down to the field from the hotel at which he and Peggy and Miss Prescott were stopping, was much surprised to be greeted by Fanning, with some effusiveness.

After a lot of preliminary hemming and hawing, Fanning broached to Roy once more the proposition of selling the Golden b.u.t.terfly.

"But I thought you had a fine type of aeroplane of your own," said Roy, wondering at this renewal of Fanning's offer.

"So I have," was the rejoinder, "but now that I have established my business on a paying business basis I can handle another type. You know mine is a biplane model."

Roy nodded. He had no liking for Fanning, but the other was so effusive that he felt it was inc.u.mbent on him to meet the other lad half way, as the saying is.

"I'd like to have a look at your craft sometime," he said.

"Not much you won't," rejoined Fanning, quickly, "you'll see her on the day she wins the big prize and not before."

"You seem to have it won already," rejoined Roy, rather contemptuously.

"Oh, yes," was the confident reply, "I'm going to simply fly rings round you and the rest, so you'd better take up my offer now, for after the race your Golden b.u.t.terfly stock won't be worth a penny."

"I'm not so certain about that," was the answer.

"Then you won't take up my offer. I'll raise it another two hundred."

Roy smiled and shook his head. Something in his refusal angered the other lad.

"Well as you wish," he said, strolling off, "but dad has been pretty lenient with you up to date. As you won't meet us half way, though I'm going to advise him to force you to sell the Golden b.u.t.terfly."

"How?"

"By foreclosing that mortgage without further delay."

Fanning whipped the words out with a vicious intonation. All his mean nature surged up into his face as he spoke. Roy breathed a little quicker. But outwardly he was calm and cold as ice.

"That's your privilege," he said shortly, turning away, but that night he and Peggy had a troubled discussion about ways and means, and it became more than ever evident to them how much depended on winning the five thousand dollar prize.

There were several aspirants in the juvenile cla.s.s on the grounds as well as fliers of more mature years, for Mr. Higgins had interested some other capitalists, and it had been decided to make quite an event out of the aerial meet.

On the day before the race, which meant so much to them, Peggy and Roy decided to take a practice spin across country in their 'plane. The capable looking machine excited much favorable comment when it was wheeled out of its shed. Several of the other compet.i.tors gathered about it while the engine was being tuned up. Among them was a surly looking chap with a dark, roughly-shaven chin and a pair of shifty eyes. He stood beside Fanning Harding, who was also in the crowd about the Golden b.u.t.terfly.

The Sandy Bay boy gazed on with a sneering look while our two young aviators got everything in readiness. This took some time for everybody was anxious to take a hand in the work, and it was quite a task to kindly, but steadfastly, reject these offers, well meant as they were.

At last everything appeared to be in good shape and with a buzz and a whirr the engine was tried out. It worked perfectly, and before the crowd had had time to cheer, the aeroplane shot up from the ground in front of its shed with hardly any preliminary run. Then came a belated cheer.

"That's the craft that wins the big prize," said a stout, good-natured looking man.

"Don't you be so certain," snapped out Fanning Harding, who stood close by, and to whom the words were gall.

"Why, what's the matter with you, my young friend," asked the jovial man; "you must be meaning to get it yourself."

"That's right," was the confident reply.

"Well, don't count your aerial chicks before they're hatched," was the merry rejoinder. A laugh at Fanning's expense went up from the crowd. The boy flushed angrily and strode off in the direction of his hangar.