d cheeks. It was evident that it was going to out-distance
the record made by Ed Rivers' machine. The Boy Scouts set up their
Patrol cry:

"Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee!"

As the little machine settled to the ground, far beyond the grand
stand, the officials ran out with their tapes, and presently the
announcement came blaring down the packed ranks of the onlookers:

"Three hundred and fifty feet!"

What a cheer went up then.

"I guess you've got it won. Congratulations!" said Ed Rivers, pressing
forward to Paul's side.

"Thanks, Ed," returned the other; "but 'there's many a slip,' you know,
and there are several others to be flown yet."

Now came in rapid succession several of the smaller models and freak
designs. Some of these wobbled through the air and landed in the
crowd. Others sailed blithely up toward the red tape and just fell
short of clearing it. Another landed right on the tape and hung there,
the target of irreverent remarks from the crowd.

While this was going on, Bill Bender, Jack Curtiss and Sam were in
close consultation.

"Remember, you promised that if you won the prize you'd give that money
back," Sam whispered to Jack, "and for goodness' sake, don't forget it.
I half believe that those boys suspect us already."

"Nonsense," returned the bully. "And what if they do? We covered up
our tracks too well for them to have anything on us. They can't prove
anything, can they?"

"I--I--I don't know," stammered Sam, and was about to say more, but the
clarion voice of the announcer was heard informing the crowd that:

"John Curtiss' Bleriot model will now make a flight for the great
prize."

With a confident smile on his face, Jack stepped forward and held his
model ready. The murmur of admiration that had greeted its first
appearance was repeated as he held it high in the sunlight and the
afternoon rays glinted and shimmered on its fittings and wings.

"That's the model for my money," remarked a man in the crowd.

"It's going to win, too," said Jack confidently.

Just at that moment the pistol cracked, and Jack released his
much-admired air craft.

Its flight showed that it was as capable of making as beautiful a
soaring excursion as its graceful outlines and careful finish seemed to
indicate. In a long, sweeping glide, it arose and cleared the red tape
by a greater margin than had Paul Perkins' model.

"Jack Curtiss wins!" yelled the crowd, as the machine soared right on
and did not begi