The Girl Aviators Motor Butterfly | Page 9

But hardly had they touched
the ground when from the farmhouse a man came running in his
shirtsleeves, his lower limbs being garbed in overalls and knee-boots.
On his chin was a goatee, and as he drew closer they saw that his face
was thin and hatchet shaped and anything but agreeable.
"You git out of thar! You git out of thar!" he kept shouting as he came
along, stumbling over the stubble, for the field had been newly reaped.
"Why, what's the matter? We're not hurting anything," objected Roy;
"surely you don't mind our occupying the field for an hour or so till the

storm blows over?"
"I daon't, hey? Wa'al, I do, by heck. I own all the way daown and all
the way up frum this farm, and thet's ther law."
"If we didn't have these ladies with us we'd be only too glad to leave
your field," rejoined Jimsy, "but you can see for yourself a nasty storm
is coming up."
"What bizness hes gals riding round in them sky-buggies," stormed the
farmer; "ef any darter uv mine did it I'd lock her up on bread an' water,
by Jim Hill."
"I don't doubt it in the least," smiled Peggy sweetly.
"Humph!" grunted the cantankerous old agriculturist, not quite sure if
he was being made fun of or if his resolution was being admired; "all I
got to say is thet ef you want to stay here you gotter pay."
"That can be arranged," spoke Jimsy, with quiet sarcasm.
"An' pay wa'al, too," resumed the farmer tenaciously.
"How much do you think the lease of your field for an hour or so is
worth?" asked Roy.
The farmer considered an instant, and then, with an avaricious look in
his pin-point blue eyes, he looked up.
"'Bout ten dollars," he said, at length.
"We don't want to buy it, we just want to rent it for a very short time,"
struck in Bess, with her most innocent expression.
"Wa'al, it's ten or git off!" snapped the farmer.
"I'll pay you a fair price for it," spoke up Roy, "and not a cent more."
"Then I'll drive you off with a shot-gun, by chowder."

"Oh, no, you won't."
"Won't, hey? What'll stop me?"
"The law."
"Ther law? Thet's a good one."
"I think it is, a very good one," struck in Jimsy, who now saw what Roy
was driving at.
"Humph! wa'al, if yer a'goin' te talk law I'll jes' tell yer quick thet this is
my land and thet you're all a-trespassing."
"You are not very well up on aërial law, it seems," replied Roy, in an
absolutely unruffled tone.
"Don't know nuthin' 'bout this air-ile law," grumbled the fellow, but
somewhat impressed by Roy's calm, deliberate exterior.
"Well, then, for your information I'll tell you that under the laws of the
country recently enacted aviators are entitled to land in any safe landing
place in times of emergency. If they do any damage they must pay for it.
If not the owner of the land is not entitled to anything for the temporary
use of his place."
"Five dollars or nothing," spoke Jimsy, "and if you try to put us off
you'll get into serious trouble."
"Wa'al, yer a-robbin' me," muttered the man, much impressed by Roy's
oratory, "gimme ther five."
It was quickly forthcoming. The old fellow took it without a word and
shuffled off. As he did so there was a vivid flash of lightning and the
growl of a big crash of thunder. While it was still resounding the auto
came puffing up. Jake had put up the storm top and made it as snug and
comfortable as a house.
"Come on, boys and girls," urged Roy, "let's get the engines covered up

and then beat it for the car. The rain will hit in in torrents in a few
minutes."
Indeed they were still making fast the waterproof covers constructed to
throw over the motors in just such emergencies when the big drops
began to fall.
There was a helter-skelter race for the car. In they all crowded, and
none too soon. The air was almost as dark as at dusk, and there was a
heavy sulphurous feeling in the atmosphere. But within the curtains of
the car all was fun and merriment. The case of the old farmer was
discussed at length, and Jimsy convulsed them all by his clever
imitation of the way the bargain was driven.
He was in the midst of his description when a fearfully vivid flash lit up
the interior of the car as brightly as day. As it did so The Wren uttered a
sharp cry.
"What is it, dear? Afraid of the lightning?" asked Miss Prescott, while a
thunder volley boomed and reverberated.
"No, no," shivered the