The Girl Aviators and the Phantom Airship

y! where

the red-brick path, a rustling

m, sis,-w

ng abruptly ceased. Roy Prescott, a wavy-haired, blue-eyed lad of seventeen, or thereabouts, stood in the portal. H

s face, threw her arms around his neck in one of her "bear hug

her own vehemence. She flourished the paper under his nose an

of the ambitious aviators-now is your chance!

ixed up a bit, haven't you?" asked Roy with masculine condesc

and then thrust forth the

on't think that Miss Margaret Prescott has good reason to feel somewhat more ent

ews-sheet, "why this is just what we were wishing for, isn't

tude and holding one hand above her glossy head. "Re

iedly followed Peggy's mad career down the pa

nce for

ggins of Acato

In Prizes for Fli

sping her hands one minute and the next stooping to

, although his eyes were dancing and he knew wel

thousand dollars, of

laug

s own construction-with the exception of the engine, that is; and here's another of two thousand five hundred dollars to the glider making the best and longest sustained flight, and another

thed Peggy with half

rize offered

N

minds of the day. Here it is, all in black and white, a prize of a whole thousand

what it is. Don't you read every day in the papers about girls and women making almost as good flights as the men? Didn't a-a Mademoiselle somebody-or-other make a flight ro

acards from the air upon the devoted heads of the British Par

the boy dodged into the shed,

rightly gleaming wires and stays,-one wing of the big monoplane upon which her brother had spent all his spare time for the past year. The flying thing was almost completed now. It stood in its shed, with

me smaller ones. The large one had been partially opened and

y, that

fting a bit of sacking from the contents

the contents of that crate was the splendid new motor for his aeroplane. But to Peggy, just then, it was

dollars-oh, Ro

and threw an arm ab

e, "it's going to be all right. Why, can't you see that th

off for more than a month and-and supposing

nemies, and which was his greatest fault, left him. His face clouded and he looked trou

nd if it isn't, I can always sell out to Simon Harding.

ver do that. We could neither of us go against father's wishes

ceased from troubling with the affairs of this world, and commended his children to the care of their maiden

so that he had been enabled to carry on his dreaming and planning without embarrassing his family. Roy and Peggy had both been sent to good board

n of his-the offsprings of his brain-that surrounded him in his workshop, had, somehow, seemed always

n spite of his real sterling worth and ability, into a headstrong, rather self-opinionated lad. His success at

o Peggy's school up the Hudson, and the other to Roy up in Connecticut, telling them to return to

came to know his father better than ever before. He learned that the dream of his parent had been to produce an aeroplane free from the defects of its forerunners,-a safe vehicle for passengers or freight. How far he had progressed in this there was no time for him to t

y his father had left him, Roy had carried on the work till now it was almost completed. But the three thousand dollars which

ragement had spurred him on to surmount seemingly unconquerable difficulties, and how she had actually aided him in constructing the machine,

ad uncomplainingly, ungrudgingly, aided her brother, without hoping for, or expecting, the appreciation she sometimes felt she was rea

hat a big four-door touring car, aglitter with gleaming maroon paint, and with a long, low hood concealing a powe

king girl, tall, slender and with a glossy mass of black

eggy, glancing up from her sad reverie at the sound of footsteps, gave a glad little cry as she beheld the visitors standing framed in the sunlight of the open door. While she and the tall, dark-haired

s on her chum's shoulders, she held Jess Bancroft off at arm's length, the better to scrutinize her handsome fa

clouds?" d

uestion," laughed Jess, merrily, exchanging greetings with R

their father, a Wall Street power, had leased for the season. Of course, explained the merry girl, who had been Peggy's closest chum at school, her first tho

you wrote to me about?" exclaimed Jess enthusiasti

ction in his tones, "and I'm proud of it, I ca

en Jess stole a look at Peggy, but no cl

just know how much you contributed to the Golden Butterfly's existe

gy's face. Perhaps they dwelt there for rather a long period of time. At any rate, they were still fixed on her br

ng genius finds its habitation;" grate

clean-shaven face,-what Peggy called a "money making face"; and surely that described Simon Harding, as he stood there in his black, none-too-new ga

called-was dressed in elaborate motoring costume. His goggles, of the latest and most exaggerated design, were shoved up off his countenance now, e

tened to say, coming forward with a c

realizing that none of them had perhaps

ance on her, seemed to be about to ac

my boy, while I go up to the house. I

nces. What business could this old man-in some respects a power

roduce me to your friends? And how about inviting us all to have som

d!" thought Jess as the young people, with due for