id, "if he hadn't a pug nose."

"A pug nose!" flared up Peggy. "Oh, Jess, how can----"

Then she stopped short in confusion while Jess laughed the more at her
discomfiture.

Young Mr. Homer lost no time in starting operations. He ordered his
helpers to secure the machine to a small tree growing nearby by means of
a stout rope Roy had brought with him. This done, and the monoplane thus
secured from flying away when her engine was started, he set the sparking
and gasolene levers and threw in the switch. Roy and Jimsy, the latter
acting under Roy's instructions, flew to the propeller.

The Golden Butterfly being a monoplane, this was in front of the machine.

"Be careful when you feel it start, to leap aside," warned Roy, "or you
might be beheaded."

"I never lose my head in an emergency," joked Jimsy.

But just the same his heart beat, as did those of all of them but Hal
Homer's, as he and Roy started to swing the great shiny wooden driving
appliance.

Once, twice, three times they swung it round, exerting all their force.
The fourth time they were rewarded by a feeble sigh from the engine--a
sixty horse power motor.

All at once--Bang!

"Let go!" yelled Roy, jumping backward.

Jimsy in his hurry to obey stumbled and fell backward in a heap. He
rolled some distance down the hill unnoticed, before he succeeded in
stopping his motion. In the meantime the others--even Peggy--were too
absorbed in the sight before them to watch Jimsy.

Simultaneously with the sharp report the propeller had whirled around
swiftly. The next instant it was a mere gray blur, while a furious wind
from its revolving blades swept the onlookers. Blue smoke spurted from
the exhausts, mingled with flame, and the uproar was terrific.

The Golden Butterfly, like a thing of life, struggled at her moorings.
The rope stretched and strained, taut as a violin string, under the pull.
But it held fast, and after a while Aviator Homer slowed down the engine
and finally stopped it, after adjusting a miss-fire in one of the
cylinders. As the propeller became once more visible and then came to a
stop, the boys broke into cheers, while the girls, too, voiced their
enthusiasm.

"Oh, Peggy, isn't it a darling!" cried Jess.

"Aeroplanes are not usually called 'darlings,'" responded Peggy with
assumed severity, "but--oh, Jess, it's--it's--a jewel and----"

"I'm dying for a ride in it!" burst in Jess.

"Then if you will consent to live a little longer