AN INVITATION TO RACE.
It is almost needless to say that the purchase was not consummated. The
girls raised a chorus of protest. The "nasty thing" was the mildest of
the epithets they applied to the beast.
"Well, I don't know. I thought we might have his skin done into a robe.
We could give it as a prize to the girl that makes the best record on
this motor flight," suggested Jimsy.
"I wish you'd take him up a thousand feet and drop him," declared the
unfortunate ram's owner.
"Poor thing! he only acted according to his nature," defended Peggy;
"let him loose and he'll go back to the flock."
"Not him," declared his owner; "he'd only raise more Cain. Better let
him be."
But the girls raised a chorus of protest. It was a shame to leave the
poor thing tied up, and they insisted that he be let loose.
"All right, if you kin stand it I kin," grinned the man.
He and the boy bent over the captive ram and cast him loose. The beast
struggled to his feet, and for an instant stood glaring about him out
of his yellowish eyes that gleamed like agates. But it was only for an
instant that he remained thus.
Suddenly he lowered his head and without more preliminaries dashed right
at the _Golden Butterfly_.
"Gracious, he's a game old sport!" yelled Jimsy; "Hasn't had enough of
it yet, eh?"
Right at the _Butterfly_ the ram rushed. Reaching it, with one bound he
was in the chassis.
"Now we'll get him," whispered the owner of the ram. "I told you if he
was let go he'd start cutting up rough."
"Well, you surely proved a good prophet," laughed Jimsy.
"Now we've got to catch him," said the man.
"How?" whispered Jimsy.
"Someone must lasso him as you did before. Easy now. Don't scare him or
he might do damage."
The ram was seated in the aëroplane for all the world as if he was a
scientific investigator of some sort. He paid no attention whatever to
those who were creeping up on him, Jimsy with his rope in his hand, the
loop trailing behind him all ready for action.
"This is more fun than a deer hunt!" declared Roy.
"Than a bull fight, you mean," retorted Jimsy; "this creature gives the
best imitation of a wild bull I ever saw."
They all laughed. The ram certainly had given a realistic interpretation
of a savage Andalusian fighter.
"Now then," whispered the sheep driver as they drew near. Jimsy's rope
swirled and settled about the ram's horns. But the startled beast was
due to give them another surprise. Hardly had Jimsy's rope fallen about
it when with a snort it leaped clean in the air and out of the
aëroplane. It tore like an express train straight at Jimsy.
Before the boy could get out of its path "Biff!" the impact had come.
Jimsy arose into the atmosphere and described a distinct parabola. He
landed with a bump in a clump of bushes, while Mr. Ram rushed off down
the road to join his flock.
"Haw! haw! haw!" roared the sheep man; "ain't hurt, be you?"
"No; but I've a good mind to sue you for damages," rejoined Jimsy,
picking himself out of the clump of brush; "you've no right to drive an
animal like that around the country without labeling him 'Dynamite.
Dangerous'."
"Guess I will, too," said the man, who appeared to think well of the
suggestion; "he sure will get me in a pile of trouble one of these
days."
He raised his hat and strode off, followed by the boy. In the distance
the ram was capering about among the other sheep. Jimsy brushed the dust
off himself and then looked about him.
"Anybody laughing?" he demanded suspiciously.
They all shook their heads, the girls biting their lips to avoid
smiling.
"All right then, I suggest that we get out of here right away; a tiger's
liable to come striding out of those woods next."
"Yes; we'd better be getting along; Millbrook, our next stop, is several
miles off," said Peggy, consulting the map.
No further time was lost in resuming their rapid flight. In the
distance, as the flock of aëroplanes arose, the sheep man waved his
hat and shouted his adieus.
Millbrook was reached that evening just at dusk. It proved to be a
fair-sized town, and the aëroplanes excited as much curiosity there as
they had in Meadville--more so, in fact, for, from some flaring posters,
it appeared that an aëroplane exhibition and race had been arranged for
the next day by a traveling company of aviators. That evening, at the
hotel, a deputation of citizens waited on the boys and asked them if
they would not prolong their stay and take part in the air sports. The
mayor, whose name was Jasper Hanks, mentioned a prize of five hundred
dollars for an endurance flight as a special inducement.
The lads said they would think things over and report in the morning.
Their real object in delaying their decision was, of course, to consult
the girls about appearing. Peggy, Jess and Bess went into raptures over
the idea, and Miss Prescott's consent was readily obtained.
"I'll be glad to rest for a day after all our exciting times," she
declared, "and I mean to add to Wren's outfit too."
"Oh, how good you are to me," sighed the odd little figure, nestling
close to her benefactress.
"Tush! tush, my dear! I'm going to make a wonderful girl out of you,"
beamed the kindly lady.
Descending to the office to buy some postcards, the boys found, lounging
about the desk, a stoutish man with a rather dissipated face, puffy
under the eyes and heavy about the jaws. A bright red necktie and
patent-leather boots with cloth tops accentuated the decidedly "noisy"
impression he conveyed.
As the boys came down he eyed them sharply. Then he addressed them.
"My name's Lish Kelly," he said. "I'm manager of the United Aviators'
Exhibition Company. We're showing out at the City Park tomorrow.
I understand that you kids have been asked to butt in."
"We've been asked to participate, if that's what you mean," rejoined Roy
rather sharply. The fellow's manner was offensive and overbearing.
"Well, see here, you stay out," rejoined the man, shaking a fat
forefinger on which glistened a diamond ring of such proportions as
to make it dubious if it boasted a genuine stone.
"You stay out of it," he repeated.
Roy and Jimsy were almost dumfounded. The man's tone was one of actual
command.
"Why? Why should we stay out of it?" demanded Roy.
"The mayor of the town has asked us to take part," came from Jimsy;
"what have you got to do with it?"
"It's this way," said the man in rather a less overbearing way than he
had hitherto adopted; "we're going about the country giving flights. The
city gives us the park in this town and we get so much of the receipts.
But we rely on winning the prizes, see. Now if you kids butt in, why
you might win some of them and that knocks my profit out. Get me?"
"I understand you, if that's what you mean," rejoined Roy; "but I still
fail to see why we should not compete if we want to."
The man placed his hand on the boy's shoulder impressively.
"'Cos if you do it'll make trouble for you, sonny."
"Who'll make it?" flashed back Roy indignantly.
"I will, son, and I'm some trouble maker when I start anything along
them lines, take it from me."
He turned on his heel, stuck his cigar at a more acute angle in the side
of his mouth, and strode off, leaving the two boys dumfounded.
"Well, what do you make of that?" demanded Roy, as soon as his
astonishment had subsided a trifle.
"Just this, that Mr. Lish Kelly thinks he can run this thing to suit
himself."
"What will we do about it?"
"For my part I wanted to compete before. I desire to more than ever
now."
"Same here."
"Maybe he was only bluffing after all."
"Maybe; but just the same I wouldn't trust him not to try to do us some
harm. As he says, his main profits come from winning the prizes offered
by the different communities."
"Humph! well, so far as that goes, I don't see why that need keep us out
of it."
"Nor I; but we've had troubles enough, and I don't want willingly to run
into any more."
"Nor I. Well, let's sleep on it. We'll decide in the morning."
"That's a good idea."
The two lads went up to bed and slept as only healthy lads can. The next
morning dawned bright and clear. There was hardly any wind. It was real
"flying" weather. The aëroplanes had been sheltered in a big shed
belonging to the hotel. Before breakfast the boys went out and looked
them over. All were in good shape.
As they were coming out of the shed they were hailed by no less a
personage than Mayor Hanks.
"Well," said he, "are you going to fly?"
"We think of doing so," said Roy, hesitating a little. He wanted to
speak of the conduct of Lish Kelly, but on second thought he decided not
to; the man might merely have had a fit of bad temper on him. His
threats might have been only empty ones.
"If you're going to fly I have got some entry blanks with me," said the
mayor. "I wish you'd sign 'em."
He drew out a bunch of blue papers with blanks for describing the name
of the machine, its power, driver and other details.
This decided the boys.
"All right, we'll enter all our machines," said Roy; "let us go into the
writing room and we'll sign the entry blanks."
"Good for you," cried the mayor delightedly; "you'll be a big drawing
card, especially the young ladies. I never heard of gals flyin',
although, come to think of it, why shouldn't they?"
In the writing room they concluded the business. When it was done all
the machines had been entered in every contest, including an altitude
one.
"We start at ten sharp, so be there," admonished the mayor as he
departed, highly pleased at having secured quite a flock of young
aviators at no cost at all.
It was as his figure vanished, that Lish Kelly crossed the writing room.
He had been sitting in a telephone booth, and leaving the door a crack
open had heard every word that had passed.
He greeted the boys with an angry scowl.
"So you ain't going to stay out?" he said gruffly, as he passed. "All
right; look out for squalls!"