he dressed, however, he
found that Peggy was before him on the dewy lawn, field glasses in hand.

Down the road could be seen, in front of the Mortlake plant, a small crowd
of mechanics with one or two dominant figures moving among them. With the
glasses, they had no difficulty in making out Mortlake's heavy-shouldered
figure, and the slender, upright form of Lieut. Bradbury. All at once the
group opened up a bit and they saw a silvery, glittering aeroplane, agleam
with new aluminum paint, throbbing and vibrating, as if anxious to be off.
Blue smoke eddied up as the motor roared and whirred. The air seemed to
vibrate under the sound as if a battery of gatling guns had been
discharged.

Fascinated, brother and sister watched the spectacle intently. They saw
Mortlake clamber heavily into the machine, followed by Lieut. Bradbury. A
mechanic started for the front of the plane and began swinging the
propeller.

"At least they haven't cribbed our self-starting device," exclaimed Peggy,
as she saw.

The next instant the propeller became a whirring blur, and the aeroplane,
after a brief preliminary run, began to climb upward. The morning sun
caught its silvered planes and turned them to gold. It was a beautiful and
inspiring sight. Even with all that lay at stake, Peggy and Roy could not
deny the machine a meed of praise. It was fairy-like in its delicacy of
construction, and speedy as a flash.

Thundering like an express train, it dashed above the Prescott home,
leaving in its wake the pungent odor of burning castor-oil--the most
suitable lubricant for aeroplanes.

Then suddenly--as if a recollection of Peggy's mischievous flight of a few
days previously had occurred to him--Mortlake swung the delicate silvery
machine about and dashed straight down at the boy and girl standing by the
garden gate. So close to their heads did he skim in his desire to show
off, that he almost came too low. For one instant it looked as if the
machine would be dashed to a premature end, but it recovered buoyancy like
a keeled-over racing yacht, and tore upward into the sky at an increased
speed.

"Let's get out the _Golden Butterfly_ and follow the----"

"_Silver Cobweb!_" cried Roy, the name occurring to him in a flash of
inspiration as he watched the filmy outlines of the other aeroplane melt
in the distance.

"Oh, Roy, what a pretty name."

"Isn't it? But somehow, I like _Golden Butterfly_ best. Our machine may be
a bit heavier, but