and a triplane. Jimsy ascended last, but as this
was not a race, but a cloud-climbing contest, he was in no hurry. He was
anxious to see what the other air craft could do.

Up they climbed, ascending the aerial stairway, while the crowd below
stared up, at the risk of stiff necks in the immediate future.

Jimsy chose spiraling as his method of rising. But the others went
upward in curious zigzags. This was because their machines were not
equipped with the stability device, and they could not attempt the same
tactics. Before long Jimsy was high above the others. From below he
appeared a mere dot in the blue. But still he flew on.

Once he glanced at his barograph. It showed he had ascended 5,000
feet. It was higher than the boy had ever been before, but he kept
perseveringly on.

It was cold up there in the regions of the upper air, and Jimsy found
himself wishing he had put on a sweater.

"It's too long a drop to go down and get one," he remarked to himself,
with grim humor.

Beneath him he could see the other aeroplanes; but the black one was the
only one that appeared to be a serious rival. The rest did not seem to
be trying very hard to reach a superlative height. The black machine,
however, was steadily rising. After a while Jimsy could see the face of
its occupant. It was the Cuban, Le Roy.

"Now, what's he trying to do, I wonder?" thought Jimsy, as the black
biplane rose to the same level as himself and appeared to be going
through some odd maneuvering.

"That's mighty funny," mused the boy, watching his rival; "I can't make
out what he's up to."

Indeed the black biplane was behaving queerly. Now it would swoop toward
Jimsy and then would dart, only to return. Suddenly it came driving
straight at him.

It was then that Jimsy suddenly realized what his rival was trying to
do. To use a slangy but expressive phrase, Le Roy, the veteran aviator,
was trying to rattle the boy.

"So that's his game, is it," thought Jimsy; "well, I'll give him a
surprise."

Manipulating his spark and gas levers the boy gave his graceful red
craft full power. The Dragon shot sharply upward, crossing Le Roy's
machine about twenty feet above its upper plane. Jimsy laughed aloud at
the astonished expression on the man's face as he skimmed above him.

"I reckon he'll think that I do know something about driving an
aeroplane, after all," he chuckled as he rose till his barograph
recorded 6,000 feet.

Beneath him he could se