A GIRL AVIATOR'S ADVENTURE.
In the meantime, Peggy and Roy, the former at the steering wheel and
controls, were skimming through the air above the charming country
surrounding Acatonick. The exhilaration of flying, the thrill and zest of
it, were strong upon them as they glided along, and they made an extended
flight.
"She is working like a three-hundred-dollar watch," cried Roy joyously as
the speedy monoplane flew onward.
"She's a darling," was Peggy's enthusiastic response. "I'm sure that if
nothing happens you'll win that race to-morrow, Roy."
"I hope so, little sister," was the response, "for there's a whole lot
depending on it."
"But just think. If you only do we shall be at the end of our troubles."
"Not quite, sis," Roy reminded her, "that affair of the missing jewels is
still a mystery, and as long as it stays so some folks will always be
suspicious of me."
"Oh, Roy, don't say such things. Nobody but the horridest of the horrid
would----"
"Unluckily," struck in the boy, "there are a lot of the horridest of the
horrid in this world, and some of them are in Sandy Bay."
He laughed and then went on more seriously:
"It's a pretty nasty feeling, I can tell you, to know that you are
unjustly suspected by several folks of--of--er--knowing more about an
affair of that kind than you tell."
"What can have become of the jewels?"
"Ah, that's just it. Of course we have our suspicion, based really on
nothing, that Fanning Harding knows something about them. But if he did
why would he place that wallet on the porch of Jess's home?"
"It's beyond me."
"And beyond me, too. I'm quite sure that nobody was about the place when
the accident happened, and I could not have been unconscious more than a
few seconds. Now who could have stolen the wallet in that time?"
"It will all come out in time. I'm sure of it, Roy, dear," said Peggy,
earnestly. "Perhaps it will turn out to be not such a mystery after all."
"I don't know," was Roy's rejoinder. "Mr. Bancroft has had some of the
cleverest detectives in the country on the case, and a description of the
jewels, some of which were heirlooms, has been wired everywhere
broadcast. But up to date none of them have turned up at any pawnshops or
other likely places."
For some moments more they talked in this strain, when Peggy suddenly
gave a cry and pointed below. They were passing over a tiny lake
surrounded by steeply sloping banks, wooded with beautiful trees. It was
an isolated spot, no human habitation being near at hand apparently.
"Oh, isn't that pretty?" cried Peggy delightedly. "It looks as if it
might have come out of a picture book."
"And the sight of that water reminds me that I'm terribly thirsty," said
Roy. "I bet there are some springs by that lake, or if there are not
maybe the water is good to drink from the lake itself."
"Let's go down and see," said Peggy, with a bright smile, and setting
over a lever and twisting a couple of valves she began to depress the
aeroplane.
"There's a good landing place off there to the right of the end of the
lake," cried Roy, indicating a bare spot where some land seemed to have
been cleared at one time.
"All right, my brilliant brother," laughed Peggy merrily. "I saw it at
least five minutes ago. Hold tight, I'm going to drop fast."
To any one less accustomed to aerial navigation than our two young
friends, the downward plunge would have been alarming in its velocity.
But to them it was merely exciting. Within a few feet of the ground, just
when it seemed they must dash against the surface of the earth with
crushing force, Peggy set the planes on a rising angle and the Golden
Eagle settled to earth as gracefully as a tired bird.
"Well, here we are," exclaimed Roy, looking about him at the sylvan scene
as they alighted; "and now what comes next?"
"A hunt for the spring, of course," cried Peggy, placing one hand on her
brother's shoulder and nimbly leaping from the chassis to the soft,
springy ground. And off they set toward the margin of the little lake
below them.
"Reminds me of Ponce de Leon's hunt for a spring," laughed Roy, who felt
in high spirits over the fine way the Golden Butterfly had conducted
herself.
"But he was looking for the Fountain of Eternal Youth," said Peggy,
quickly.
"Wonder if he'd have been any happier if he'd found it," murmured Roy,
philosophically.
"If he'd been a woman he would," said Peggy.
"Would what? Have found it?"
"No, you goose, but have been perfectly happy if he had attained
perpetual youth. Why, I think----Why, whatever was that?"
The girl broke off short in her laughing remarks and an expression of
startled astonishment crept over her features.
"Why, it's some one groaning," cried Roy, after a brief period of
listening.
"Yes. Some one in pain, too. It's off this way. Come on, Roy, let us find
out what is the matter."
Without a thought of personal danger, but with all her warm girlish
sympathy aroused, plucky Peggy plunged off on to a path, from a spot
along which it appeared the injured person must be groaning. But Roy
caught her arm and pulled her back while he stepped in front of her.
"Let me go first, sis," he said; "we don't know what may be the matter."
Peggy dutifully tiptoed along behind, as with hearts that beat somewhat
faster than usual they made their way down the narrow path which led them
into the deep gloom of the deeper woods. All at once Roy halted. They had
arrived on the edge of a little clearing in the midst of which stood a
tiny and roughly built hut with a big stone chimney at one end. Although
the place was primitive it was scrupulously neat.
Painted white with green shutters, with a bright flower garden in front,
it was a veritable picture of rural thrift.
The boy hesitated for an instant as they stood on the opposite edge of
the cleared ground. There was no question but that they had reached the
place whence the groans had proceeded. As they stood there the grim
sounds began once more, after being hushed for an instant. Now, however,
they took coherent form.
"Oh, help me! Help me!"
Roy was undetermined no longer. Directing Peggy to remain outside till he
summoned her, he walked rapidly, and with a firm step, up the path
leading to the hut, and entered. It was so dark inside that at first he
could see nothing. But pretty soon he spied a huddled form in one corner.
"Oh, don't hurt me! I'm only a harmless old man! I have no money," cried
the cringing figure, as Roy entered.
"I don't want to hurt you," said the boy kindly; "I want to help you."
He now saw that the form in the corner was that of an old man with a
silvery beard and long white hair. From a gash on his forehead blood was
flowing, and the wound seemed to have been recently inflicted.
"What is the matter? What has happened?" asked Roy, gently, as he raised
the old man to a chair into which he fell limply.
"Water! water!" he cried, feebly.
Roy hastened outside saying to himself as he went:
"This is a case for Peggy."
Summoning her he hastily related what had occurred and the warm-hearted
girl, with many exclamations of pity, hastened to the wounded man's side.
"Get me some water quick, Roy," she exclaimed, tearing a long strip from
her linen petticoat to serve as a bandage. Outside the hut, Roy soon
found a spring, back of a rickety stable in which the old man had a horse
and a ramshackle buggy.
When he returned with the water the poor old fellow took a long draught
from a cup Peggy held to his lips and the girl then deftly washed and
bandaged his wound. This done the venerable old man seemed to rally, and
sitting up in his chair thanked his young friends warmly. Roy, in the
meantime, had been looking about the hut and saw that it was furnished in
plain, but tidy style. Over the great open fireplace, at one end, hung a
big picture. Evidently the canvas was many years old. It was the portrait
of a fine, self-reliant looking young man in early manhood. His blue eyes
gazed confidently out from the picture and a smile of seeming
satisfaction quivered about his lips.
"I'll bet that's a fellow who has got on in the world," thought Roy to
himself as he scanned the capable, strong features.
"Ah," said the old man, observing the lad's interest in the painting,
"that picture is a relic of old, old days. It is a portrait of my brother
James. He----But I must tell you how I came to be in the sad condition in
which you found me. Have you a comfortable chair, miss? Yes, very well,
then I will tell you what happened this afternoon in this hut, and will
then relate to you something of my own story for I was not always a
hermit and an outcast."