THE GIRL AVIATORS' SKY CRUISE

BY

MARGARET BURNHAM

AUTHOR OF "THE GIRL AVIATORS AND THE PHANTOM AIRSHIP," "THE GIRL AVIATORS ON GOLDEN WINGS," ETC.

NEW YORK

HURST & COMPANY

1911

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. A NEW VENTURE IN SANDY BEACH.
CHAPTER II. MR. HARDING DECLARES HIMSELF.
CHAPTER III. A NAVAL VISITOR.
CHAPTER IV. ALOFT IN A STORM.
CHAPTER V. PEGGY A HEROINE.
CHAPTER VI. FARMER GALLOWAY'S "SAFE DEPOSIT".
CHAPTER VII. A CASE FOR THE AUTHORITIES.
CHAPTER VIII. MR. MORTLAKE LOSES SOME DRAWINGS.
CHAPTER IX. THE FLIGHT OF THE "SILVER COBWEB".
CHAPTER X. AN AERIAL POST OFFICE.
CHAPTER XI. THE MARKED BILL.
CHAPTER XII. WHAT HAPPENED TO ROY.
CHAPTER XIII. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT.
CHAPTER XIV. HOW THEY WORKED OUT.
CHAPTER XV. WHAT MORTLAKE DID.
CHAPTER XVI. THE MISSING SIDE-COMB.
CHAPTER XVII. JIMSY'S SUSPICIONS ARE ROUSED.
CHAPTER XVIII. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.
CHAPTER XIX. THE GATHERING OF THE MAN-BIRDS.
CHAPTER XX. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
CHAPTER XXI. THE START OF THE SKY CRUISE.
CHAPTER XXII. THE WHITE PERIL.
CHAPTER XXIII. OUT OF THE CLOUDS.
CHAPTER XXIV. FRIENDS AND FOES—CONCLUSION.

CHAPTER I.

A NEW VENTURE IN SANDY BEACH.

"It isn't to be a barn; that's one thing certain. Who ever saw a barn with skylights on it?"

Peggy Prescott, in a pretty, fluffy morning dress of pale green, which set off her blonde beauty to perfection, laid down her racket, and, leaving the tennis-court, joined her brother Roy at the picket fence. The lad, bronzed and toughened by his trip to the Nevada desert, was leaning upon the paling, gazing down the dusty road.

About a quarter of a mile away was the object of his contemplation—a big, new structure, painted a staring red. It had no windows, but in front were great sliding doors. On its flat roof the forms of a dozen or more glazed skylights upreared themselves jauntily.

"No, it's a work-shop of some sort. But what? Old man Harding is interested in it, that's one thing sure. I heard, too, that while we were away, cases of machinery had arrived and been delivered there, and that active work of some sort had been going forward ever since," rejoined Roy, who was clad in white tennis flannels, with white shoes and an outing shirt, set off by a dark-red necktie.

"See Roy," cried Peggy suddenly, "they're putting up some sort of sign on it, or else I'm very much mistaken."

"So they are. I see men on some ladders, and now, look Peg, they are carrying up a big board with something painted on it. Perhaps at last the mystery will be solved, as they say in the dime novels."

"Can you read the printing on that sign?" inquired Peggy.

"Not a word. I can see the letters to know that they are printed characters, but that's all. Tell you what, Peg, just run and get those glasses we used on the desert—there's a good fellow—and we'll soon find out."

"Isn't that just like a brother? Always sending his long-suffering sister on his errands."

"Why, you know you are dying with curiosity yourself, to know what's on that signboard," parried Roy.

"And I suppose you're not," pouted Peggy in mock indignation. "However, I'll get the field glasses to oblige you—just once."

"As if you won't try to secure the first peek through them!" laughed Roy, as sunny Peggy tripped off across the lawn to a big shed in the rear of the Prescott home, where the aeroplanes and their appurtenances were kept.

She soon was back with the field glasses, and, as Roy had prophesied, raised them to her eyes first. Having adjusted the focus, she scrutinized the sign carefully. By this time the big board had been raised horizontally above the doors and was being fixed in position.

Suddenly Peggy gave a little squeal of astonishment and lowered the magnifiers.

"Well, what is it?" chaffed Roy; "an anarchist bomb factory or an establishment for raising goats, or something that will "butt in" just as much on our peace and