in every part of the vicinity,"
volunteered Hal Homer, who had returned only a few minutes before from
the station house.

Bang!

A bomb had been shot skyward and now exploded in a cloud of yellow smoke.

"Three minutes to starting time," cried Hal Homer anxiously; "where can
Miss Prescott be?"

"Look!" cried Jess suddenly, dancing about. "Oh, Glory! Here she comes!"

Far off against the sky a speck was visible. Rushing toward them at
tremendous speed it swiftly grew larger. The crowd saw it now and great
excitement prevailed. The word flew about that the machine was the
missing Number Six. Would it arrive in time to participate in the start
and thus qualify? This was the question on every lip.

Hal Homer jumped into the auto and sped over to the judge's stand.

"Can't you delay the start for five minutes?" he begged.

"Impossible," was the reply.

"But that aeroplane, Number Six, has been delayed by some accident. If
you start the race on time it may not arrive in time to take part."

"Can't be helped. Young Prescott--that's the name of the owner, isn't
it?--shouldn't have gone off on a cross country tryout."

Back to the hangar sped Hal, where Jess and Jimsy, almost beside
themselves with excitement, were watching the homing aeroplane.

"She'll be on time," cried Jimsy as the graceful ship swept over the
distant confines of the course and came thundering down toward the
starting point.

A great cheer swept skywards as the aeroplane came on.

"She'll make it."

"She won't."

"Where has the thing been?"

"Why is it so late?"

These and a hundred other questions and remarks went from mouth to mouth
all through the big crowd.

"It's all off," groaned Jimsy suddenly.

He had seen the signal corps man, whose duty it was to fire the bombs,
outstretching himself on the ground awaiting the signal to touch off the
starting sign.

But even as Jimsy spoke, the Golden Butterfly made a swift turn and, amid
a roar from the crowd, shot whirring past the grandstand and alighted in
front of the stand on the starting line.

Hardly had the wheels touched the ground before the judge in charge of
the track raised his hand. A flag fell and the signal corps man jerked
his arm back, firing the bomb that announced the start.

B-o-o-o-o-m!

As the detonation died out the aeroplanes shot forward, rising into the
still air almost in a body, like a flock of birds. It was a spectacle
never to be forgotten, and the c