"Machine number seven--mach-ine num-ber sev-en! Fanning Harding, owner, has withdrawn from the race," he announced.

A buzz of comment went through the crowd. Jess, Jimsy and Hal Homer, standing in a group by the empty Prescott hangar, exchanged astonished glances as they heard the news. What did that mean? Fanning had been swaggering about, boasting of his wonderful aeroplane, and now it appeared at the eleventh hour he had decided not to enter it.

"Must have had an accident," opined Jimsy.

"Maybe he gave it one of those pleasant looks of his," suggested Jess.

"Wherever can Peggy be," exclaimed the girl the next minute; "she's been gone for more than an hour. I do hope nothing has happened to her."

"Not likely," rejoined Jimsy, although he looked a little troubled over the non-appearance of the Golden b.u.t.terfly.

"The police said they had a dragnet out in every part of the vicinity,"

volunteered Hal Homer, who had returned only a few minutes before from the station house.

Bang!

A bomb had been shot skyward and now exploded in a cloud of yellow smoke.

"Three minutes to starting time," cried Hal Homer anxiously; "where can Miss Prescott be?"

"Look!" cried Jess suddenly, dancing about. "Oh, Glory! Here she comes!"

Far off against the sky a speck was visible. Rushing toward them at tremendous speed it swiftly grew larger. The crowd saw it now and great excitement prevailed. The word flew about that the machine was the missing Number Six. Would it arrive in time to partic.i.p.ate in the start and thus qualify? This was the question on every lip.

Hal Homer jumped into the auto and sped over to the judge's stand.

"Can't you delay the start for five minutes?" he begged.

"Impossible," was the reply.

"But that aeroplane, Number Six, has been delayed by some accident. If you start the race on time it may not arrive in time to take part."

"Can't be helped. Young Prescott--that's the name of the owner, isn't it?--shouldn't have gone off on a cross country tryout."

Back to the hangar sped Hal, where Jess and Jimsy, almost beside themselves with excitement, were watching the homing aeroplane.

"She'll be on time," cried Jimsy as the graceful ship swept over the distant confines of the course and came thundering down toward the starting point.

A great cheer swept skywards as the aeroplane came on.

"She'll make it."

"She won't."

"Where has the thing been?"

"Why is it so late?"

These and a hundred other questions and remarks went from mouth to mouth all through the big crowd.

"It's all off," groaned Jimsy suddenly.

He had seen the signal corps man, whose duty it was to fire the bombs, outstretching himself on the ground awaiting the signal to touch off the starting sign.

But even as Jimsy spoke, the Golden b.u.t.terfly made a swift turn and, amid a roar from the crowd, shot whirring past the grandstand and alighted in front of the stand on the starting line.

Hardly had the wheels touched the ground before the judge in charge of the track raised his hand. A flag fell and the signal corps man jerked his arm back, firing the bomb that announced the start.

B-o-o-o-o-m!

As the detonation died out the aeroplanes shot forward, rising into the still air almost in a body, like a flock of birds. It was a spectacle never to be forgotten, and the crowd appreciated it to the full.

But up in the grandstand, in inconspicuous places, sat three persons who did not look as well pleased as those about them.

"So the girl is going to take a chance," muttered Fanning Harding; "well, so much the worse for her. If she wins I'll put in a protest and compel her to unmask."

"Won't that Prescott and Bancroft bunch be astonished when they find out that we are on to their little game," chuckled Jukes Dade; "it'll be as good as a play."

"That's what it will," grinned Gid.

"They'll find out that they can't humiliate me and not suffer for it,"

grated out Fanning.

"Wonder where that girl went to on her tryout spin?" inquired Dade.

"It doesn't make much difference where, but she certainly came back with a grandstand play," rejoined Gid.

"Well, if she wins the race it will be our turn," Fanning a.s.sured him.

They then turned their attention to the contest, two laps of which had been made while they were talking.

Number One, a small white Bleriot type of monoplane, seemed to be making the pace for the rest, and word flew about that it had gained half a lap on Number Four, its nearest compet.i.tor so far.

"But it will be a long contest," said the wiseacres in the crowd, "and accidents may happen at any time."

On the fourth lap Number One was seen to descend over by the hangars.

Something had gone wrong with its lubricating valve. By the time the difficulty was adjusted it was hopelessly out of the race. Number Three was the next to drop out. This machine was driven by one of the high school lads, and his contingent of rooters in the grandstand set up a woeful noise as he dropped to earth in the middle of the course. A broken stay had made it dangerous for him to remain longer in the air.

This left number Six, the Prescott machine, Numbers Two, Four and Five still in the air.

"Number Six has gained a lap on Number Five!" went up the cry presently as Number Five, so far the leader, was seen to lose speed on the fifteenth lap.

The Golden b.u.t.terfly was in truth doing magnificently, but try as her operator would it did not seem possible to shake off Number Five, another high school boy's machine, which clung persistently to its stern. Number Four alighted for more gasolene on the twentieth lap and lost a round of the course thereby. A few seconds later Number Two was also forced to descend with heated cylinders. This practically left the race between Number Five and the Golden b.u.t.terfly. Round and round they tore, neither of them gaining or losing a foot apparently. The thunder of their engines grew deafeningly monotonous and the crowds watched them as if hypnotized by the whirring aerial monsters.

All at once, though, a mighty roar proclaimed that something was happening, and gazing down toward the further end of the track it could be seen that Number Six, the Golden b.u.t.terfly, had made a daring attempt to gain on the other machine, and had succeeded.

So close did the two aeroplanes edge to the end pylon in the effort to secure the inside plane that for an instant it looked as if a crash must result.