The Girl Aviators Sky Cruise | Page 8

There
seemed to be trees, trees everywhere, and not a bit of cleared ground.
All at once, as they cleared some woods, she spied a bit of meadowland.
The hay which had covered it earlier in the summer had been cropped.
It afforded an ideal landing-place. But the wind was puffy now, and
Peggy did not dare to attempt short descending spirals. Instead, trusting
to the balancing device doing its duty faithfully, she swung down in
long circles.

Just as they touched the ground with a gentle shock, much minimized,
thanks to the shock-absorbers with which the Golden Butterfly was
fitted, the storm burst in all its fury. Bolt after bolt of vivid lightning
ripped and tore across the darkened sky, which hung like a pall behind
the terrific electrical display. The rain came down in torrents.
"Just in time," laughed the young officer, as he aided Peggy in dragging
the aeroplane under the shelter of an open cart-shed. It was quite snug
and dry once they had it under the roof. A short distance off stood a
farm-house of fairly comfortable appearance. Smoke issuing from one
of its chimneys showed that it was occupied.
"Let's go over there and see if we can dry our things," suggested Peggy.
"I'm wet through."
"Same here," was the laughing reply; "but a sailor doesn't mind that.
One actually gets webbed feet in the navy--like ducks, you know."
Ignoring this remarkable contribution to natural history, Peggy
gathered up her skirts daintily and fled across the meadow to the
farm-house. It was only a few hundred feet, but the rain came down so
hard that both she and her escort were wetter than ever by the time they
arrived at the door. It was shut, and except for the lazy wisps of smoke
issuing from the chimney, there was no sign of life about the place.
The lieutenant knocked thunderously. No answer.
"Try again," said Peggy; "maybe they are in some other part of the
house."
"Perhaps they were scared of the aeroplane and have all retired into
hiding," suggested Mr. Bradbury.
He rapped again, louder this time, but still no reply.
"They must all be asleep," he said, applying himself once more to a
thunderous assault on the door, but to no avail. A silence hung about
the place, broken only by the roar and rattle of the thunder.

"It's positively uncanny," shuddered Peggy. "It's like Red Riding Hood
and the Three Little Bears."
"One would think that even a bear would open the door on such an
occasion as this," said her companion, redoubling his efforts to attract
attention. Finally he gave the door handle a twist. It yielded, and the
door was speedily found to be unlocked. The officer shoved it open and
disclosed a neat farm-house kitchen. In a newly blackened stove, which
fairly shone, was a blazing fire. An old clock ticked sturdily in one
corner. The floor was scrubbed as white as snow, and on a shelf above
the shining stove was an array of gleaming copper pans that gladdened
Peggy's housewifely heart.
"What a dear of a place!" she exclaimed. "But where are the folks who
own it?"
"Haven't the least idea," said the officer gayly; "but that stove looks
inviting to me. Let's get over to it and get dried out a bit. Then we can
commence to investigate."
"But, really, you know, we've not the least right in here. Suppose they
mistake us for burglars, and shoot us?"
"Not much danger of that. They'd shoot me first, anyhow, because I'm
the most burglarious looking of the two. Queer, though, where they all
can be."
"It's worse than queer--it's weird. Good gracious!" exclaimed Peggy, as
a sudden thought struck her, "suppose there should be trapdoors?"
"Trapdoors!" Her companion was plainly puzzled.
"Yes. You know in most books when two folks run across a deserted
farm-house there's always a trapdoor or a ghost or something.
Suppose----Good heavens, what's that?"
From without had come a most peculiar sound. A whirring, like the
noise one would suppose would be occasioned by a gigantic locust.

Then something--a huge, indefinite shadow--darkened the windows of
the farm-house kitchen. Peggy gave a shrill squeal of alarm, while
Lieut. Bradbury gallantly ran to the door and flung it open.
CHAPTER V.
PEGGY A HEROINE.
"It's--it's another aeroplane!" cried the officer, with a shout of
amazement.
"What!"
Peggy sprang to her feet.
"A large red one?"
"Yes. Come here and look. They're just running it under the same shed
as ours--yours, I mean."
The girl aviator sprang toward the door. Through the rain she peered to
where, across the meadow, two dim figures, clad in oilskins, could be
seen shoving a big aeroplane under the same shelter that already
protected the Golden Butterfly.
"Well, if this isn't the