ich was mended in
mid-air. As the three navigators approached, they saw a small machine
flying around the grounds.

"Look!" cried Ned excitedly. "What a small airship."

"That's a monoplane," declared Tom, who was getting to be quite an
expert.

"Yes, the same kind that was used to cross the English Channel,"
interjected Mr. Sharp. "They're too uncertain for my purposes, though;
they are all right under certain conditions."

Hardly had he spoken than a puff of wind caused the daring manipulator
of the monoplane to swerve to one side. He had to make a quick
descent--so rapid was it, in fact, that the tips of one of his planes
was smashed.

"It'll take him a day to repair that," commented the aeronaut dryly.

The Red Cloud created a sensation as she slowly settled down in front
of the big tent assigned to her. Tom's craft was easily the best one at
the carnival, so far, though the managers said other machines were on
the way.

The exhibition opened the next day, but no flights were to be attempted
until the day following. Two more crafts arrived, a large triplane, and
a dirigible balloon. There were many visitors to the ground, and Tom,
Ned and Mr. Sharp were kept busy answering questions put by those who
crowded into their tent. Toward the close of the day a fussy little
Frenchman entered, and, making his way to where Tom stood, asked:

"Air you ze ownair of zis machine?"

"One of them," replied the lad.

"Ha! Sacre! Zen I challenge you to a race. I have a monoplane zat is ze
swiftest evaire! One thousand francs will I wager you, zat I can fly
higher and farther zan you."

"Shall we take him up, Mr. Sharp?" asked Tom.

"We'll race with him, after we get through with the club entries,"
decided the aeronaut. "But not for money. It's against my principles,
and I don't believe your father would like it. Racing for prizes is a
different thing."

"Well, we will devote ze money to charity," conceded the Frenchman.
This was a different matter, and one to which Mr. Sharp did not object,
so it was arranged that a trial should take place after the regular
affairs.

That night was spent in getting the Red Cloud in shape for the contests
of the next day. She was "groomed" until every wire was taut and every
cog, lever and valve working perfectly. Ned Newton helped all he could.
So much has appeared in the newspapers of the races at Blakeville that
I will not devote much space here to them. Suffice it to say that th