"Cracky! He's got it. No, he's falling again--ah!"

There was a note of horror in the exclamation. The aeroplane in front of Roy dived wildly, then fairly somersaulted. The strain was too great.

A wing parted.

"It's the end of him!" exclaimed Roy, in a whisper.

Down shot the broken aeroplane with the velocity of lightning. It just dodged the trees on the little island and then it plunged into the lake, first spilling Speedwell out. Then down on top of him came the smother of canvas, wood and wires.

"He'll be suffocated if I don't go to his rescue," murmured Roy; "it will put me out of the race, but I must save him."

There was a clear spot on the island, and toward this the boy dived. In the meantime men were putting out from sh.o.r.e in a small boat. But the boy knew that they could not reach the unfortunate Speedwell in time to save his life.

Roy made a clever landing on the island and then lost no time in wading out to the half floating, half submerged wreckage. In the midst of it lay Speedwell. Roy dragged him ash.o.r.e. The man's face was purple, his limbs limp and lifeless and he choked gaspingly. Another minute in the water would have been his last, as Roy realized.

He did what he could for the man, rolling him on his face to get out the water he had swallowed. By this time the boat from the sh.o.r.e landed on the island. The two men got out.

"Is he alive?" they asked of Roy.

"Yes, and he'll get better, too, I guess. Lucky he fell in the water. No limbs are broken."

"Well, you're a pretty decent sort of fellow to get out of the race to help an injured man," said one of the men.

"Well, I'll leave him to you now," rejoined Roy; "is there a hospital near here?"

"There's one 'bout a mile away. We can phone for an ambulance."

"Good! Well, good-bye."

With a whirr and a buzz the boy was gone, and speedily became a speck in the sky.

In the meantime the aviation field was in an uproar. Dashing toward it had come the two leading aeroplanes. From dots in the sky no bigger than shoe b.u.t.tons they speedily became manifest as two aeroplanes aquiver with speed. Blue smoke poured from their exhausts. Evidently the two aviators were straining their craft to the utmost.

"It's that Cuban woman and the young girl flyer!" yelled a man who had a pair of field gla.s.ses.

The uproar redoubled. The two aeroplanes were almost side by side as they rushed onward. Which would win the $500 race?

It was a struggle that had begun some miles back. After leaving the lake Peggy, who had held some speed in reserve while her opponent had keyed her machine to its top pitch, had gradually gained on her. But still there was a gap between the two aeroplanes.

On the return trip no car blazed the way. The speed was too great for that. For this reason smudges, or smoky fires, had been lighted to guide the flyers. At a place where it was necessary to make a slight turn Peggy made the gain that brought her almost alongside her compet.i.tor. In making the turn the monoplane flown by the Cuban aviatrix could not negotiate it at as sharp an angle as Peggy's machine, owing to its not being equipped with an equalizing, or stability device.

Now it was that Peggy tensioned up the _Golden b.u.t.terfly_ to its full power. The engine fairly roared as the propeller blurred round. The whole fabric trembled under the strain. It seemed as if nothing made by man could stand the pressure.

But the _Golden b.u.t.terfly_ had been built by one of the foremost young aviators in the country, and it was sound and true in every part. Peggy felt no fear of anything giving out under the strain.

And now the aviation park appeared in the distance. Peggy headed straight for it, hoping devoutly that her motor would not heat up and jam under the terrific speed it was being forced to.

The Cuban woman glanced round anxiously. It was a bad move for her. Like a flash the _Golden b.u.t.terfly_ shot by the other machine as the latter wobbled badly.

Peggy's delight was mixed with apprehension. The motor was beginning to smoke. Plainly it was heating up.

"Will it last five minutes longer?"

That was the thought in Peggy's mind. The _Golden b.u.t.terfly_ was hardly an airship any longer. It was a thunderbolt--a flying arrow. Before Peggy's eyes there was nothing now but the tall red and white "pylon"

that marked the winning post. Could she make it ahead of her rival?

Close behind her she could hear the roar of the other motor, but she did not dare to look round for fear of losing ground.

Swiftly she mentally selected the spot where she would land, and then down shot the _Golden b.u.t.terfly_ like a pouncing fish hawk. The speed of the descent fairly took Peggy's breath away. Her cap had come off and her golden hair streamed out in the breeze wildly.

There was a blur of flying trees, then came the grandstand, a mere smudge of color, a sea of dimly seen faces and a roar that was like that of a hundred waterfalls.

Down shot the _Golden b.u.t.terfly_ just inside the "pylon." It ran for about a hundred yards and was then brought to a stop.

Peggy Prescott had won the great race.

CHAPTER XXII.

PEGGY'S GENEROSITY.

"Oh, Peggy, it's the proudest moment of my life!" cried Jimsy, as a shouting, excited crowd surrounded the aeroplane in which Peggy still sat, feeling dazed and a little dizzy.

"Oh, you wonderful girl!" cried out Bess, half laughing and half crying; "gracious, what an exciting finish. I thought I'd go wild when it looked as if you weren't going to win."

They helped her from the aeroplane while policemen pushed the crowd back. Somebody brought a tray with steaming hot tea and crackers on it.

But Peggy could not eat. She felt faint and dreamy.

"Brace up!" urged Jimsy.

"I'll be all right in a minute. It's the strain of those last few minutes. I never thought I'd win."

"And I never doubted it," declared Jess stoutly.

"I wonder where Roy is?" asked Peggy anxiously, as they entered a box in the grandstand where they could be secluded from the shoving, curious, staring crowd.

"Don't know; but he's all right, depend upon it," said Jimsy cheerfully; "h.e.l.lo, what's that coming now?"

"It's a homing aeroplane."

Then, a minute later:

"It's Roy. Look at him come. I didn't think the _Red Dragon_ could go as fast."

Roy it was, sure enough. He was coming at a pace that might have landed him as winner of the race if he had not been delayed by his errand of mercy.

Ten minutes later he had joined them. First he explained what had happened to the judges of the course. Kelly, crest-fallen and wretched-looking, thanked him half heartedly for what he had done and said that he would care for Speedwell till he got better, which, by the way, was a promise that he did not perform.