The Girl Aviators Sky Cruise | Page 5

gracefully as she could, and with a rather flushed face.
At the gate stood a rickety station hack, which had approached on the
soft, dusty road almost noiselessly. Just stepping out of it was a
sunburned young man, very upright in carriage, and dressed in a
light-gray suit, with a jaunty straw hat. He carried a bamboo cane,
which he switched somewhat nervously as the pretty girl advanced
toward him across the velvet-like lawn.
"I am Lieut. Bradbury of the navy," said the newcomer, and Peggy
noted that his whole appearance was as pleasant and wholesome as his
voice. "I came--er in response to your letter to the department, in regard
to the forthcoming trials of aeroplanes for the service."
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Peggy, smothering an inclination to giggle,
"we--I--that is----"
"I presume that I have called at the right place," said the young officer,
with a smile. "They told me----"
"Oh, come in, won't you?" suddenly requested the embarrassed Peggy.
"The sun is fearfully hot. Won't you have a straw hat--I mean a seat?"
"Thank you," replied Lieut. Bradbury, gravely sitting in a garden bench
at the foot of one of the big maples. His eyes fell on the book Peggy
had been reading. It was a treatise on aeronautics.
"It isn't possible that you are R. Prescott?" he asked, glancing up
quickly.
"Oh, no. I am only a humble helper. R. Prescott is in town. He--he will
be back shortly."
"Indeed. I had hoped to see him personally. I was anxious to inspect the
Prescott type of monoplane before visiting another aeroplane plant in
this neighborhood, the--the----" The officer drew out a small morocco
covered notebook and referred to it.

"The Mortlake Aeroplane Company," he concluded.
"Oh, yes. They are just down the road, within a stone's throw of here.
You can see the place from here; that big barn-like structure,"
volunteered Peggy, heartily wishing that the Mortlake plant had been a
hundred miles away.
"Indeed. That's very convenient. I shall be able to make an early train
back to New York. Do you suppose that Mr. Prescott will be long?"
"I don't really know. He shouldn't be unless he is delayed. But in the
meantime I can show you the aeroplane, if you wish."
"Ah!" the officer glanced at this girl curiously, "but you know what I
particularly desired was a practical demonstration."
"A flight?"
"Yes, if it were possible."
"I think it can be arranged."
"You have an aviator attached to your place, then?"
Peggy laughed musically. She had quite recovered from her
embarrassment now.
"No. I guess it's an aviatress--if there is such a word. You see I----"
"You!"
"Oh, yes. I have flown quite a good deal recently. I think it is the most
delightful sport there is."
A sudden light seemed to break over the young officer.
"Are you Miss Margaret Prescott, the girl aviator I have read so much
about in the technical publications?"

"I believe I am," smiled Peggy; "but here comes my aunt, Miss Sallie
Prescott."
As she spoke, Miss Prescott, in a soft gown of cool white material,
emerged from the house. Peggy went through the ceremony of
introduction, after which they all directed their steps to the large shed
in which the Prescott machines were kept. In the meantime, old Sam
Hickey, the gardener, and his stalwart son Jerusah, had been summoned
to aid in dragging out one of the aeroplanes.
"We only have two on hand," explained Peggy; "my brother has
forwarded the others that we built to Mr. James Bell, the mining man.
They are being used in aerial gold transportation across the Nevada
desert."
"Indeed! That is most interesting."
Sam Hickey flung open the big doors and revealed the interior of the
shed with the two scarab-like monoplanes standing within. A strong
smell of gasoline and machine-oil filled the air. The officer glanced at
Peggy's dainty figure in astonishment. It seemed hard to associate this
refined, exquisite young girl with the rough actualities of machinery
and aeroplanes.
[Illustration: When she emerged a very business-like Peggy had taken
the place of the lounger in the hammock.]
But Peggy, with a word of excuse, dived suddenly into a small room.
While she was gone, Miss Prescott entertained the young officer with
many tales of her harrowing experiences on the Nevada desert. To all
of which he listened with keen attention. At least he did so to all
outward appearance, but his eyes were riveted on the door through
which Peggy had vanished.
When she emerged a very business-like Peggy had taken the place of
the lounger in the hammock. A linen duster, fitting tightly, covered her
from top to toe. A motoring bonnet of maroon silk imprisoned her hair,
and upon its rim, above her forehead, was perched a