The Girl Aviators' Sky Cruise

one thing certain. Who ever s

, laid down her racket, and, leaving the tennis-court, joined her brother Roy at the picket fence. The lad, br

, painted a staring red. It had no windows, but in front were great sliding doors. On i

we were away, cases of machinery had arrived and been delivered there, and that active work of some sort had been going forward eve

ey're putting up some sort of sign o

re carrying up a big board with something painted on it. Perhaps a

rinting on that sig

ters, but that's all. Tell you what, Peg, just run and get those glasse

r? Always sending his long-suf

curiosity yourself, to know what

in mock indignation. "However, I'll get t

as sunny Peggy tripped off across the lawn to a big shed in the rear of

eyes first. Having adjusted the focus, she scrutinized the sign carefully. By this time t

le squeal of astonishment

y or an establishment for raising goats, or something that

aking one pink-tipped finger under Roy's frec

If you could have seen your own face

noculars into her br

ordered. Her voice was so imper

dumfounded amazement was mirrored on his o

out West, 'if that ain't t

eathlessly. "Repeat it so that I may b

They show up on that red painted barn of a pla

owly, mimicking a b

ane Company. Well, w

reprove

hy, that's the concern that's been advertising so much recently.

Mr. Harding is inter

ation expressed Peggy's disli

oy. "But this time I guess it's no phantom airship, but the real thing. What ti

. He mentioned no

at he is also going to take

om doing so till now in order to keep the nature of their business secret. If we hadn't come back from Nevada

e a whirl of dust. From it presently emerged a big

tly for Peggy, as the car came to a stop in front of

orning had caused a good deal of speculation in the humdrum Long Island village of Sandy Beach. In the first place, coincident with the completion of the building, a new element had been introduced into the little community by the arrival of se

ity, but there being no side windows to peer through, and a watchman of ferocious aspect stationed at the door, their inquisitiveness was, perforce, unsatisfied. Not even a sign appeared on the building to indicate the nature of the industry carrie

like a drumhead, over his bony face. From the new building, at the same time, there emerged a short, stout personage, garbed in overalls. But the fine quality of his linen, and a

hick, slightly streaked with gray, and heavy eyebrows as dark in hue as his hair, overhung a pair of shrewd, gray eyes like small pent-houses. The man was Eugene Mortlake, the brains of the Mortlake Company. The individual who had just