BROTHER AND SISTER.
The first gleam of the summer dawn shining into Roy's place of
imprisonment at the bottom of the old well revealed to him only too
clearly into what a trap he had fallen. The well seemed to be about fifty
feet or more in depth, and the sides were smooth and slippery.
The chill he had felt spreading through his limbs earlier was gone now,
but a numb sensation was setting in which did not leave them even when
the boy wriggled his legs about.
"Phew!" thought Roy. "I stand a fair chance of being turned into a
pollywog or something if I stay here long enough."
Somehow, with the coming of daylight, the buoyant spirits of youth had
returned to the boy and his predicament did not seem nearly so serious as
it had during the dark hours.
But it was bad enough, as Roy realized. From time to time he tried
shouting, but no one came to the edge of the well and peered over,
although he anxiously kept his eyes riveted on the disc of sky above him.
How long this went on Roy had no idea, but he had sunk into a sort of
semi-doze when a sudden sound aroused him.
A tinkling, metallic sound, not unlike the rattling of the chain the
night before that had, in reality, caused his trouble.
"Help! Help!" shouted Roy.
It was perhaps the five hundredth time he had uttered the cry since he
had tumbled into the well. But this time there came a response.
"What is it? What's the trouble?"
The voice sounded rather shaky, and as if the utterer of the words was
somewhat scared.
"It's a boy who has fallen into the well," shouted Roy. "I'm almost
exhausted. Get me out."
A face suddenly projected over the well curb--a face which Roy recognized
with astonishment as that of old Peter Bell, the hermit.
"Mr. Bell, it's Roy Prescott," he shouted; "can you get a rope and get me
out?"
"Good heavens!" cried the hermit; "it's the boy whose sister was so kind
to me. However did you--but never mind that now. Can you hold on for a
time?"
"Yes, but my strength is almost gone."
"Well, summon up all your courage. There is a farm house not far off.
I'll go there and get a rope and be back as quick as I can."
Without wasting more words the old man hastened to his little cart. He
had been out since dawn gathering herbs and roots and had taken a short
cut home through the field in which the old well was located. Muttering
excitedly to himself, he climbed somewhat stiffly into his rickety
conveyance and urged his old horse forward with gently spoken commands.
As the animal broke into a trot the little bell about its neck began to
jangle not unmusically. This was the sound which, fortunately for him,
had notified Roy that some human being was at hand.
In the near distance, half hidden in trees, could be seen the red-roofed
gable of a farm house. Toward this old Peter Bell directed his way.
Farmer Ingalls was only too glad, when he heard of the accident, to
secure a long rope, used in hoisting hay to the top of his big barns.
"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "a lad tumbled into my well! Mommer,"
turning to a motherly-looking, calico-clad woman, "you always told me to
cover that well up, and I never did, and now thar's a poor young chap
tumbled into it."
"Hurry," urged old Peter Bell; "he was almost exhausted, poor lad. We
must get back as quick as possible."
Summoning his two hired men the farmer set off at a run across the
fields, easily keeping pace with old Peter's decrepit horse. As they
neared the well they began shouting, and a feeble cry from the depths
answered them.
"Cheer up, my lad, we'll have you out of that in a brace-of-shakes,"
cried Farmer Ingalls encouragingly, as they reached the curb and peered
over into the dark hole.
"I hope you will," cried Roy. "It's getting pretty monotonous, I can tell
you."
"Don't know what mon-ount-on-tonous means, but I'd hate to change places
with you," agreed the farmer.
Presently the rope came snaking down, with a loop in its lower end. Roy
was directed to place his foot in the loop and hold on tight. When this
had been done he shouted up:
"All right! Haul away!"
The stalwart farmer and his two assistants began to heave with all their
might, while old Mr. Bell encouraged them. Before long, by dint of hard
exertions, they succeeded in dragging Roy to the surface, and dripping
and shivering he could stand once more in the blessed air and sunlight.
"But how in the world did you come to get in there?" asked the farmer, as
he paced along by the side of the hermit's little cart, in which the
half-exhausted Roy had been placed.
"Well," said the lad with a rather shamefaced laugh, "I'm really half
ashamed to say. But it was this way. Some bad men who have an interest in
putting me out of an aeroplane contest, of which Mr. Bell knows, had run
off with me in an automobile. It was wrecked, and I escaped. I struck out
toward town, as I thought, but as I came through that patch of woods by
the wall I saw something that startled me so much that I stepped back and
fell down the well."
"What did you see, my lad?" asked the farmer with half a twinkle in his
eye.
"Something like a story-book ghost," smiled Roy; "it was tall and all in
white and clanked a chain."
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared the farmer; "I half suspected as much. Why, that
ghost was my old white mule Boxer. He managed somehow to snap his chain
last night and we found him careening around the fields this morning.
Don't color up, my boy," for poor Roy's face had turned very red, as the
hired men guffawed loudly; "older men than you have been startled at far
less. And now, here's the farm, and I'll bet mommer has a fine breakfast
all ready for you."
The half-famished boy ate hungrily of the substantial farmhouse fare Mrs.
Ingalls provided for him, and as he ate he made inquiries about the
distance to the aviation grounds, which, he found to his dismay, were
further distant than he had imagined.
"I'll never be able to make it in time without an automobile," moaned Roy
to himself; "what shall I do?"
He cast about in his mind for some way out of his difficulty, but he
could find none. Nor could the farmer help him. There were no automobiles
in that part of the country, and in a horse-drawn vehicle he would never
be able to make it in time.
All at once a queer sound filled the air. The atmosphere seemed to
vibrate with it as it does on a still summer day when a threshing machine
is buzzing away in a distant field.
"Land o' Goshen, what's that?" cried Mrs. Ingalls running to the door.
"Lish! Lish! come here quick!" she shouted the next instant.
Followed by the old hermit and Roy, Mr. Ingalls ran to the door. But his
exclamations at the sight he saw were drowned by Roy's amazed cry:
"It's the Golden Butterfly!"
"An aeroplane!" shouted the farmer. "By gosh, she's like a pretty bird."
"It's my--our aeroplane," went on Roy; "who can be in it? Oh, if it's
only Peggy I may not be too late after all."
He ran out into the door yard of the farm house and, snatching off his
coat, began waving it desperately. Would the occupant of the aeroplane
see his frantic signals? With a beating heart Roy watched the winged
machine as it droned far above him.
All at once he gave a delighted shout. The aeroplane was beginning to
descend. Down it came in big circles, while the farmer, his wife and the
old hermit gazed open mouthed at it, as if half inclined to run.
But as it drew closer to the ground Roy noted a puzzling thing. A
helmeted and goggled person was driving it, evidently a boy or man and
not Peggy at all. Who could it be? For an instant a queer thought flashed
through his head. Possibly somebody had stolen it and was making off
across country with it so as to put it out of the race.
More and more rapidly the aeroplane began to drop as it neared the
ground, and before many minutes it alighted in the patch of meadow in
front of the farm house, gliding gracefully for several feet before it
stopped.
But the rubber-tired landing wheels had not ceased revolving before Roy
was at its side.
"Say, who are you, and what are you doing with my aeroplane?" he demanded
in heated tones, for the helmeted aviator had not yet even deigned to
notice him, but seemed to be busy with various levers and valves.
"Well, are you going to answer me?" sputtered Roy, while the farmer, his
wife, the old hermit and the hired men gazed on curiously.
For answer the mysterious aviator raised his helmet and a cloud of golden
curls fell about a milk-and-roses face.
"By gum, a gal and a purty one!" cried the farmer capering about.
"Peggy!" shouted Roy.
"Yes, Peggy," cried the girl. "Oh, Roy, what has happened to you? When
you didn't come back Jess and Jimsy persuaded me to put on your clothes
and at least try the Butterfly out. But I was so miserable that I could
not try her out on the track, so I flew off across country. I saw you
waving far below me and--oh, Roy!"
Peggy could go no further and half collapsed in Roy's arms as he tenderly
lifted her out.
"Great hopping water millions!" cried the farmer, "if this ain't a day of
wonders. This must be ther lad's sister he told us about, and ter think
she come flopping down out of ther sky like a seventeen-y'ar locust."
Peggy was quickly her usual strong, self-reliant self again. With
indignation blazing in her kind eyes she heard Roy's account of the
happenings of the night. At its conclusion she announced with decision:
"We must defeat them, Roy."
"Yes, but how? There's only a scant half hour before starting time if you
said they'd changed it."
"Even so you can make it. You must take these clothes, get into the
aeroplane and fly back to the track. If you go alone the 'plane will be
light and you can make it in time."
"But you, Peggy?"
"I guess I can borrow a dress from Mrs. Ingalls here," said the girl
briskly.
"Of course, you kin," put in Mrs. Ingalls, but surveying her own ample
form rather doubtfully the while.
"You kin give her one of daughter Jenny's dresses," said the farmer.
"Then that is settled, thanks to you," said Peggy with characteristic
decision.
They all entered the farm house, from which, a few seconds later, Roy
emerged, clad in the garments his sister had donned a short time before.
He climbed into the aeroplane amid the admiring comments of the farm
hands, who, by this time, had come in from the fields, drawn by the
wonderful airship, and stood all about it gaping and wondering.
Peggy, in a dress belonging to the farmer's daughter, who was away on a
visit, stepped quickly to Roy's side as, after glancing at the clock
attached to the front of the aeroplane, he started the engine.
As it started its uproarious song, the farm hands jumped back in
affright. But Peggy clasped her brother's hand.
"Win that prize, Roy," she said.
"I'll do my best, little sister."
And that was all, but as Peggy Prescott gazed a few minutes later at the
fast diminishing form of the speeding aeroplane she felt that all she had
braved and dared that day had not been in vain.