"It's plain as day to me," he said; "these two lanterns attached to that big box kite on a breezy night would certainly give any one the impression that an aeroplane was sailing about. Harding knew you would be flying home in that vicinity on that night and rigged up this contrivance to delude you."

"A phantom airship!" cried Peggy.

"That's about the size of it," put in the slangy Jimsy, "and I think that friend Homer here has. .h.i.t on the correct solution."

"But if that were so, why did Fanning fit up a shop out at Gid Gibbons's place?" asked Jess in a puzzled tone.

"I guess that shop had no more in it than this hangar," was Roy's reply.

"Gid Gibbons is a bad character who would do anything for money, and I think it likely that he fell in with Harding's schemes because he had no great liking for any of us."

"Looks that way," agreed Jimsy.

"But that doesn't explain that ruby which Hester was wearing," thought Peggy to herself as the laughing party of young folks drove off up the town, followed by Farmer Ingalls and his good wife, who had been invited to take part in the little celebration of their triumph. Here and there they were recognized and cheered, but among the crowds on the sidewalks all discussing the thrilling race, there were three that took no part in the good-natured jubilation. Who these were we can guess.

Jukes Dade at Fanning's side had to listen to some savage abuse as they slunk along, avoiding as far as possible the crowds.

"I told you to burn up the hangar so that there would be no trace left of the bluff we had been putting up," he growled.

"Well, didn't I soak the place with gasolene," protested Dade; "how was I to know a kid would come along and give the alarm before it got fairly alight?"

"It's been a dismal failure all the way through," lamented Harding, as if he had been engaged on some praiseworthy enterprise.

"Incidentally," purred Jukes Dade, but with a menace under his silky tones, "I'd like to see some of that money you've been promising me all along."

"You'll have to wait till I see my father," snapped out Fanning savagely.

"Well, see him quick then, or I may have to take other means of getting it," snarled Dade.

"What do you mean?"

"Why, by telling a few things I know. About the loss of a certain lady's jewels, for instance."

Fanning went white as ashes.

"You sneak! You've been listening at keyholes!" he cried.

Dade returned him look for look defiantly.

"Well, what if I have?" he snarled. "I've got a hold on you now, Master Harding. I've got you where I want you and I'm going to keep you there."

CHAPTER XXII.

JIM BELL OF THE WEST.

Some days after the events described in the last chapter, and following the receipt by Roy of a pink check for $5,000.00, a strange visitor arrived at the Prescott home--their very own home now, for the mortgage had been paid off, much to Mr. Harding's disgust.

The stranger was a bronzed man and wore a broad-brimmed sombrero which would have marked him anywhere as a Westerner. Of Miss Prescott, who, in a new lavender silk dress, came to the door, he inquired if he could see Mr. Roy Prescott.

Miss Prescott smiled at this ceremonial way of mentioning her young nephew, but directed the stranger with the breezy Western manner to the workshop at the rear of the house, where Roy and Peggy were "fussing," as Jess called it, with their beloved Golden b.u.t.terfly.

"Good morning," he said, doffing his sombrero with a sweep and a flourish; "can I have a word with you?"

"Certainly. Two or three if you want them," rejoined Roy, while Peggy gazed in some surprise at the queer-mannered newcomer.

"The fact is," went on the stranger, "that I'm in the market for aeroplanes such as yours. I happened to be on the train some nights ago when you came flying through the air with two belated young pa.s.sengers.

Well, sir, thinks I, if such a machine can make a train on schedule time it ought to be good for other purposes. I took the liberty of making some inquiries about you from your two young friends after the train had started, but asked them not to mention the matter to you yet awhile.

"In New York I looked up my partner and we discussed the plan and he agreed with me that it was a good one. Now, I'm down here this morning to offer you $10,000 outright for the use of half a dozen of your aeroplanes, and a salary of $5,000 as instructor to the aviators I shall have to have to run them. How does the offer strike you?"

"I--er--well, I hardly know what to say," responded Roy; "you see, it's a bit sudden. It rather takes my breath away."

"Well, that's a way we have in the West," was the response, "but maybe I'd better tell you a little more about myself. My name is Jim Bell. I'm worth a couple of million or thereabouts. You can verify that by referring to the First National Bank of 'Frisco, or the East Coast Bank of New York City. I've got interests in cattle, wool and mines, but the very best mining proposition I ever struck I ran across out on the Nevada alkali desert in a range of barren hills. We were prospecting there when I was told about it. After untold hardships I found the spot and staked it out. But there arose the difficulty of transportation. There was the gold all right, but how was I to get it out?"

"I came East to see if I couldn't get some sort of automobile built that would travel the desert, but when I saw that aeroplane of yours droop down at that jerkwater junction, I realized I had found what I wanted.

Now, are you on?"

"You'll have to give us a little time to think, sir," rejoined Roy; "it's a very flattering offer and I'd like to accept it, but I'll have to think it over."

"Quite right, quite right," rejoined the other, "nothing like thinking it over. If every one did that fewer accidents and mishaps would occur in life. Take my own life, for instance. I've often thought I'd go back to see the old folks, but in that case I thought it over too long, for when I went to the old home the other day it was all gone. Not a stick or stone remained. My parents were dead and my only brother was no-one-knew-where."

Jim Bell's voice shook strangely. He blinked his eyes once or twice and then resumed briskly: "You see, I left home in a mighty queer way. I was out in a boat with my brother when it got overturned. He was drowned, I guess, but anyway I found myself drifting about on the Sound. I managed to seize hold of a bit of floating driftwood and in that way kept my head above water till a ship came along and picked me up.

"She was a big vessel bound for China and her captain was a brute. On our arrival in the Far East he bound me out as a sort of apprentice to a rich Chinaman living in the interior. I was with him for ten years before I escaped. I worked my way to the coast, got another ship and headed for California.

"On the way across there was a mutiny and I saved the life of a wealthy pa.s.senger, who turned out to be a mining man and who, when he died two years later, left me most of his property. That gave me my start in life, and now I'm a millionaire. But I'd give it all if I could get some news of poor brother Peter and find out if he is dead or alive."

"Maybe we can help you," cried Peggy, her eyes shining and her white hands clasped excitedly.

While the rugged Westerner had been talking the story of the old hermit came back to her.

"What do you mean?" asked the other; "do you know where my brother is?"

"I'm not certain," cried Peggy, "but the old hermit, Peter Bell, is he almost beyond a doubt."

"My brother a hermit!" cried the wealthy mining man.

"If it is your brother," put in Roy, "I hope for your sake it is. But his story tallies absolutely with yours. He told us that after he had missed you in the water he thought that you were drowned. Returning home he was shunned on every side, for the villagers accused him of having deserted you to save his own life."

"My poor Peter," breathed the miner.

"Miserable and made morose by the contempt he met with on every side he became a hermit and now lives in a hut near the town of Acatonick."

"How long does it take to get there? I must lose no time in finding out,"

exclaimed Jim Bell.