bits of mechanism.

Among the latter class were Paul Perkins' monoplane--Silver Arrow, he
called it,--Hiram Nelson's two models, the monoplane of Tom Maloney, a
lad of about sixteen, and Ed River's little duplicate of a Curtiss
biplane. The contest was to take place on the Main Street of the town,
in front of the bank, and in the middle of the course two poles had
been erected, one on each side of the street, between which a brightly
colored tape had then been strung, forming a sort of aerial hurdle.
The tape was fifty feet above the ground, and to qualify at all it
would be necessary for the contesting models to clear it.

The lecture which took place in the village hall came first and was
well attended, most of the young folks of Hampton being there. If the
truth must be told, however, while the lecturer was expounding his
subject, illustrating it on the blackboard with chalk drawings, the
majority of his young hearers were wishing that it was over and the
contest really begun.

Especially was this true of the boys of the Eagle Patrol, who were
every one of them anxious to see what kind of aeroplanes Jack Curtiss
and Bill Bender would have produced. The lecture, however, at last
came to an end, and the gentlemen on the platform shook hands with the
professor and the professor shook hands with them, and somebody called
for three cheers for "Hampton's distinguished son."

Everybody then lost no time in filing out into the afternoon sunlight,
where they found quite a crowd already on the streets, and a small
wooden grand stand, which had been erected near what was expected to be
the finishing line, seating several guests. The committee and the
professor, led by the Hampton brass band, blaring away at patriotic
airs, made their way to the front seats in the structure, and everybody
was requested to line up on each side of the street, so as to make a
clear lane for the models to fly in.

The starting line was about a hundred yards from the red tape, and the
contestants were compelled to stand back of this. Mr. Wingate, the
president of the yacht club and member of the Boy Scout Council, had
already shuffled the numbers of the contestants in a hat, and they were
to fly their models in the order in which they drew their figures.

Up to this time there had been no sign of Jack Curtiss or Bill Bender,
but the boys now saw them hastening up to a member of the committee and
whispering to him. A moment later a man, wit