paying no attention
now to anything but Norton. He held his watch in his hand.

"Walter," he ejaculated as he snapped it shut, "it has now been seven
minutes and a half since he stopped his propeller. The Brooks Prize
calls for five minutes only. Norton has exceeded it fifty per cent. Here
goes."

With his hat in his hand he waved three times and stopped. Then he
repeated the process.

At the third time the aeroplane seemed to give a start. The propeller
began to revolve, Norton starting it on the compression successfully.
Slowly he circled down again. Toward the end of the descent he stopped
the engine and volplaned, or coasted, to the ground, landing gently in
front of his hangar.

A wild cheer rose into the air from the crowd below us. All eyes
were riveted on the activity about Norton's biplane. They were doing
something to it. Whatever it was, it was finished in a minute and the
men were standing again at a respectful distance from the propellers.
Again Norton was in the air. As he rose above the field Kennedy gave
a last glance at his ondometer and sprang down the ladder. I followed
closely. Back of the crowd he hurried, down the walk to the entrance
near the railroad station. The man in charge of the Pinkertons was at
the gate with two other men, apparently waiting.

"Come on!" shouted Craig.

We four followed him as fast as we could. He turned in at the lane
running up to the yellow house, so as to approach the barn from the
rear, unobserved.

"Quietly, now," he cautioned.

We were now at the door of the barn. A curious crackling, snapping noise
issued. Craig gently tried the door. It was bolted on the inside. As
many of us as could threw ourselves like a human catapult against it. It
yielded.

Inside I saw a sheet of flame fifteen or twenty feet long--it was a
veritable artificial bolt of lightning. A man with a telescope had been
peering out of the window, but now was facing us in surprise.

"Lamar," shouted Kennedy, drawing a pistol, "one motion of your hand
and you are a dead man. Stand still where you are. You are caught
red-handed."

The rest of us shrank back in momentary fear of the gigantic forces of
nature which seemed let loose in the room. The thought, in my mind at
least, was: Suppose this arch-fiend should turn his deadly power on us?

Kennedy saw us from the corner of his eye. "Don't be afraid," he said
with just a curl to his lip. "I've seen all this before. It won't hurt
you. It