nstant later, "the wind is shifting a
bit. I almost got her head round that time."

"Then there is a chance, Roy!"

"Yes, sis, but don't count too much on it."

Like a skillful jockey handling a restive horse, Roy worked the Golden
Butterfly about on the shifting air currents. If once he could turn her
nose toward the land he was sure that he would be able to make the ground
by driving the aeroplane down on a slanting angle.

Once or twice, while he strove with hand and brain against the elements,
he caught his breath with a gasping intake--so near had they come to
overturning. But, thanks to the wind eddies of the point, it was
possible, after a deal of breathless maneuvering, to get the aeroplane
headed for the land.

The instant he found himself in this position Roy threw on all his power
and then, "bucking" the wind, like a ship beating up to windward, he
rushed down through the night upon the point. As he did so the rays of
the slowly revolving light flashed brightly upon the laboring aeroplane.
In the radiance it looked like some struggling night bird beating its way
against the storm and darkness.

As Peggy had said, the point was clear of rocks or brush, and a landing
was made without much difficulty once the aeroplane had been turned. Just
as a ship can face the waves with comparative security, so an aeroplane,
being driven into the teeth of a gale, is secure so long as she does not
"broach to"; in other words, get sidewise to the blast. It was touch and
go with the Golden Butterfly for several minutes, though, during that
struggle with the elements, and two more thankful young hearts rarely
beat than Peggy's and Roy's as they stepped from the machine and made it
fast by pointed braces provided for the purpose.

Hardly had she touched the ground before a door in the lower part of the
lighthouse opened and the form of Jeff Stokes emerged. He told them that
the struggle with the wind had been seen by the light-keeper and himself,
and he was warm in his congratulations of the daring young aviators. The
light-keeper, a grizzled man named Zeb. Beasley, followed close on Jeff's
heels.

"Come right into the house and hev some supper," he said warmly. "It's
only rough fare, but you're welcome. My misses will be glad to have you."

Truth to tell, both Peggy and her brother were almost famished and worn
out after the tension of the struggle with the wind. This being so, they
were glad enough to accept the light