hild since her benefactors had fitted her out! She looked like
a dainty, ethereal little princess instead of the ragged little waif
that had been rescued from the gipsy camp.

But the minds of our young friends were now intent on different matters.
Time pressed. The altitude flight, in which Jimsy had planned to take
part, was to be the first thing on the program. If anything was to be
done about reequipping the _Dragon_ it must be done quickly.

"Tell you what," said Roy suddenly, "we'll get into the car and drive
back to town. It won't take long and maybe we can dig up an extra one
some place."

"If we don't I'm out of it for keeps," groaned Jimsy; "oh, that Kelly.
I'd like to punch his head."

He doubled up his fists aggressively; but, after all, what chance had he
to prove that Kelly had actually damaged the plug. If confronted the man
would have probably denied all knowledge of it. Nobody had actually seen
him do it, so that positive proof was out of the question. No, they must
repair the damage as best they could.

But Roy determined to have the machines closely guarded. The situation
was explained to Miss Prescott, and while she and her small protege took
seats in the grand stand Jake was detailed to guard the aeroplanes. This
done, the boys got into the machine and prepared to start for town. But
the girls interfered.

"Aren't you going to take us along, you impolite youths!" cried Bess.

"Oh, certainly, your company is always charming," returned Jimsy, with
a low bow.

"Of course it is, but you wouldn't have asked us to come if we had not
invited ourselves," declared Peggy vehemently.

"How can you say so? Our lives would be a dry desert without the girl
aviators to liven things up," declared Jimsy.

"Jimsy Bancroft, if you are going to get poetical you'll leave this
car," cried Jess.

"That's just it," declared Jimsy, "girls can cry their eyes out over
romantic heroes, but when a regular fellow starts to get 'mushy' they
go up in the air."

Amidst the chorus of protestations aroused by this ungallant speech Roy
started the car. Swiftly it sped out of the grounds; but not so swiftly
that the keen eyes of Lish Kelly did not see it.

He called Herman Le Roy, the Cuban aviator, to him.

"Le Roy, you are not in the altitude contest," he said, "hop in my car
with me and we'll follow those kids. They're up to something."

The Cuban looked at him and smiled, showing two rows of white teeth
under his