With snake-like caution he glided behind the hangar once more.

It was not long after this that the Golden b.u.t.terfly was wheeled out by some of the mechanicians attached to the track, whose services were furnished free by the aviation officials.

Jess and Jimsy emerged from the hangar at the same time, in company with a boyish figure in aviator's clothing, leather trousers cut very baggily, fur-lined leather coat and big helmet of leather, well padded, completely obscuring the features. After a few words in a low tone with its companions, this figure clambered lightly into the aeroplane, leaned forward, adjusted some levers, and the next instant, amidst a shout from several hastily gathered onlookers, the Golden b.u.t.terfly skyrocketed upward, her engine roaring like an angry giant hornet.

All this was watched by Fanning Harding, Jukes Dade, and Gid Gibbons.

"A nice mess you've made of it," growled Harding angrily to his companions. "You've succeeded in getting me suspected, and in trouble, while the boy is safe and sound and on the scene."

"Wonder how he got back," grunted Gid speculatively; "he must have looked a sight when he crawled out of that swamp."

"Say, Dade, you'd better be off," said Fanning suddenly; "you were the only one of us whose face wasn't covered. He would swear to you."

"Oh, I ain't worrying yet," grinned Dade easily.

"You're not, eh? Well, you are a cool hand," rejoined Gid admiringly. "If I were in your shoes I'd clear out before that aeroplane lands again."

"You would, eh?" scoffed Dade. "Well, what would you say if I told you that that ain't Roy Prescott in the Golden b.u.t.terfly at all?"

"That you were crazy with the heat," was the prompt and impolite answer.

"Then you'd be crazy yourself. That's his sister in that aeroplane, and if he don't show up in time for the race she's going to fly it herself and win it."

If a bombsh.e.l.l had fallen at Fanning's feet he could not have been more thunderstruck. But he recovered in an instant.

"If she does I'll protest to the judges," he said angrily; "they can't prove that I know anything about her brother's disappearance, and that Golden b.u.t.terfly won't win this race if I can help it."

CHAPTER XIX.

BROTHER AND SISTER.

The first gleam of the summer dawn shining into Roy's place of imprisonment at the bottom of the old well revealed to him only too clearly into what a trap he had fallen. The well seemed to be about fifty feet or more in depth, and the sides were smooth and slippery.

The chill he had felt spreading through his limbs earlier was gone now, but a numb sensation was setting in which did not leave them even when the boy wriggled his legs about.

"Phew!" thought Roy. "I stand a fair chance of being turned into a pollywog or something if I stay here long enough."

Somehow, with the coming of daylight, the buoyant spirits of youth had returned to the boy and his predicament did not seem nearly so serious as it had during the dark hours.

But it was bad enough, as Roy realized. From time to time he tried shouting, but no one came to the edge of the well and peered over, although he anxiously kept his eyes riveted on the disc of sky above him.

How long this went on Roy had no idea, but he had sunk into a sort of semi-doze when a sudden sound aroused him.

A tinkling, metallic sound, not unlike the rattling of the chain the night before that had, in reality, caused his trouble.

"Help! Help!" shouted Roy.

It was perhaps the five hundredth time he had uttered the cry since he had tumbled into the well. But this time there came a response.

"What is it? What's the trouble?"

The voice sounded rather shaky, and as if the utterer of the words was somewhat scared.

"It's a boy who has fallen into the well," shouted Roy. "I'm almost exhausted. Get me out."

A face suddenly projected over the well curb--a face which Roy recognized with astonishment as that of old Peter Bell, the hermit.

"Mr. Bell, it's Roy Prescott," he shouted; "can you get a rope and get me out?"

"Good heavens!" cried the hermit; "it's the boy whose sister was so kind to me. However did you--but never mind that now. Can you hold on for a time?"

"Yes, but my strength is almost gone."

"Well, summon up all your courage. There is a farm house not far off.

I'll go there and get a rope and be back as quick as I can."

Without wasting more words the old man hastened to his little cart. He had been out since dawn gathering herbs and roots and had taken a short cut home through the field in which the old well was located. Muttering excitedly to himself, he climbed somewhat stiffly into his rickety conveyance and urged his old horse forward with gently spoken commands.

As the animal broke into a trot the little bell about its neck began to jangle not unmusically. This was the sound which, fortunately for him, had notified Roy that some human being was at hand.

In the near distance, half hidden in trees, could be seen the red-roofed gable of a farm house. Toward this old Peter Bell directed his way.

Farmer Ingalls was only too glad, when he heard of the accident, to secure a long rope, used in hoisting hay to the top of his big barns.

"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "a lad tumbled into my well! Mommer,"

turning to a motherly-looking, calico-clad woman, "you always told me to cover that well up, and I never did, and now thar's a poor young chap tumbled into it."

"Hurry," urged old Peter Bell; "he was almost exhausted, poor lad. We must get back as quick as possible."

Summoning his two hired men the farmer set off at a run across the fields, easily keeping pace with old Peter's decrepit horse. As they neared the well they began shouting, and a feeble cry from the depths answered them.

"Cheer up, my lad, we'll have you out of that in a brace-of-shakes,"

cried Farmer Ingalls encouragingly, as they reached the curb and peered over into the dark hole.

"I hope you will," cried Roy. "It's getting pretty monotonous, I can tell you."

"Don't know what mon-ount-on-tonous means, but I'd hate to change places with you," agreed the farmer.

Presently the rope came snaking down, with a loop in its lower end. Roy was directed to place his foot in the loop and hold on tight. When this had been done he shouted up:

"All right! Haul away!"

The stalwart farmer and his two a.s.sistants began to heave with all their might, while old Mr. Bell encouraged them. Before long, by dint of hard exertions, they succeeded in dragging Roy to the surface, and dripping and shivering he could stand once more in the blessed air and sunlight.

"But how in the world did you come to get in there?" asked the farmer, as he paced along by the side of the hermit's little cart, in which the half-exhausted Roy had been placed.

"Well," said the lad with a rather shamefaced laugh, "I'm really half ashamed to say. But it was this way. Some bad men who have an interest in putting me out of an aeroplane contest, of which Mr. Bell knows, had run off with me in an automobile. It was wrecked, and I escaped. I struck out toward town, as I thought, but as I came through that patch of woods by the wall I saw something that startled me so much that I stepped back and fell down the well."