THE GIRL AVIATORS
AND
THE PHANTOM AIRSHIP
BY
MARGARET BURNHAM
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
CHICAGO NEW YORK
Made in U. S. A.
The Girl Aviators and the
Phantom Airship
“Roy! Roy! where are you?”
Peggy Prescott came flying down the red-brick path, a rustling newspaperclutched in her hand.
“Here I am, sis,—what’s up?”
The door of a long, low shed at the farther end of the old-fashioned gardenopened as a clattering sound of hammering abruptly ceased. Roy Prescott, awavy-haired, blue-eyed lad of seventeen, or thereabouts, stood in the portal. Helooked very business-like in his khaki trousers, blue shirt and rolled upsleeves. In his hand was a shiny hammer.
6Peggy, quite regardless of a big, black smudge on her brother’sface, threw her arms around his neck in one of her “bear hugs,” while Roy,boy-like, wriggled in her clasp as best he could.
“Now, just look here,” cried Peggy, quite out of breath with her ownvehemence. She flourished the paper under his nose and, imitating thetraditional voice of a town crier, announced:
“Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! Roy Prescott or any of the ambitiousaviators—now is your chance! Great news from the front! Third and lastcall!”
“You’ve got auctioneering, the Supreme Court and war times, mixed up a bit,haven’t you?” asked Roy with masculine condescension, but gazing fondly athis vivacious sister nevertheless.
Peggy made a little face and then thrust forth the paper for hisexamination.
“Read that, you unenthusiastic person,” she demanded, “and then tellme if you don’t think that Miss Margaret Prescott has good reason to feelsomewhat more enthusiastic than comports 7with her usual dignity andwell-known icy reserve—ahem!”
“Good gracious, sis!” exclaimed the boy, as he scanned the news-sheet,“why this is just what we were wishing for, isn’t it? It’s our chance if wecan only grasp it and make good.”
“We can! We will!” exclaimed Peggy, striking an attitude and holding onehand above her glossy head. “Read it out, Roy, so that Monsieur Bleriot canhear it.”
M. Bleriot, a French bull-dog, who had dignifiedly followed Peggy’s madcareer down the path, gazed up appreciatively, as Roy read out:
“Big Chance for Sky Boys!
“Ironmaster Higgins of Acatonick Offers Ten
Thousand Dollars In Prizes for Flights and Planes.”
“Ten thousand dollars, just think!” cried Peggy, clasping her hands oneminute and the next stooping to caress M. Bleriot. “Oh, Roy! Do you think wecould?”
8“Could what? you indefinite person?” parried Roy, althoughhis eyes were dancing and he knew well enough what his vivacious sister wasdriving at.
“Could win that ten thousand dollars, of course, you goose.”
Roy laughed.
“It’s not all offered in a lump sum,” he rejoined. “Listen; there is afirst prize of five thousand dollars for the boy under eighteen who makes thelongest sustained flight in a plane of his own construction—with the exceptionof the