The Girl Aviators' Motor Butterfly Part 20

But the girls raised a chorus of protest. It was a shame to leave the poor thing tied up, and they insisted that he be let loose.

"All right, if you kin stand it I kin," grinned the man.

He and the boy bent over the captive ram and cast him loose. The beast struggled to his feet, and for an instant stood glaring about him out of his yellowish eyes that gleamed like agates. But it was only for an instant that he remained thus.

Suddenly he lowered his head and without more preliminaries dashed right at the _Golden b.u.t.terfly_.

"Gracious, he's a game old sport!" yelled Jimsy; "Hasn't had enough of it yet, eh?"

Right at the _b.u.t.terfly_ the ram rushed. Reaching it, with one bound he was in the cha.s.sis.

"Now we'll get him," whispered the owner of the ram. "I told you if he was let go he'd start cutting up rough."

"Well, you surely proved a good prophet," laughed Jimsy.

"Now we've got to catch him," said the man.

"How?" whispered Jimsy.

"Someone must la.s.so him as you did before. Easy now. Don't scare him or he might do damage."

The ram was seated in the aeroplane for all the world as if he was a scientific investigator of some sort. He paid no attention whatever to those who were creeping up on him, Jimsy with his rope in his hand, the loop trailing behind him all ready for action.

"This is more fun than a deer hunt!" declared Roy.

"Than a bull fight, you mean," retorted Jimsy; "this creature gives the best imitation of a wild bull I ever saw."

They all laughed. The ram certainly had given a realistic interpretation of a savage Andalusian fighter.

"Now then," whispered the sheep driver as they drew near. Jimsy's rope swirled and settled about the ram's horns. But the startled beast was due to give them another surprise. Hardly had Jimsy's rope fallen about it when with a snort it leaped clean in the air and out of the aeroplane. It tore like an express train straight at Jimsy.

Before the boy could get out of its path "Biff!" the impact had come.

Jimsy arose into the atmosphere and described a distinct parabola. He landed with a b.u.mp in a clump of bushes, while Mr. Ram rushed off down the road to join his flock.

"Haw! haw! haw!" roared the sheep man; "ain't hurt, be you?"

"No; but I've a good mind to sue you for damages," rejoined Jimsy, picking himself out of the clump of brush; "you've no right to drive an animal like that around the country without labeling him 'Dynamite.

Dangerous'."

"Guess I will, too," said the man, who appeared to think well of the suggestion; "he sure will get me in a pile of trouble one of these days."

He raised his hat and strode off, followed by the boy. In the distance the ram was capering about among the other sheep. Jimsy brushed the dust off himself and then looked about him.

"Anybody laughing?" he demanded suspiciously.

They all shook their heads, the girls biting their lips to avoid smiling.

"All right then, I suggest that we get out of here right away; a tiger's liable to come striding out of those woods next."

"Yes; we'd better be getting along; Millbrook, our next stop, is several miles off," said Peggy, consulting the map.

No further time was lost in resuming their rapid flight. In the distance, as the flock of aeroplanes arose, the sheep man waved his hat and shouted his adieus.

Millbrook was reached that evening just at dusk. It proved to be a fair-sized town, and the aeroplanes excited as much curiosity there as they had in Meadville--more so, in fact, for, from some flaring posters, it appeared that an aeroplane exhibition and race had been arranged for the next day by a traveling company of aviators. That evening, at the hotel, a deputation of citizens waited on the boys and asked them if they would not prolong their stay and take part in the air sports. The mayor, whose name was Jasper Hanks, mentioned a prize of five hundred dollars for an endurance flight as a special inducement.

The lads said they would think things over and report in the morning.

Their real object in delaying their decision was, of course, to consult the girls about appearing. Peggy, Jess and Bess went into raptures over the idea, and Miss Prescott's consent was readily obtained.

"I'll be glad to rest for a day after all our exciting times," she declared, "and I mean to add to Wren's outfit too."

"Oh, how good you are to me," sighed the odd little figure, nestling close to her benefactress.

"Tush! tush, my dear! I'm going to make a wonderful girl out of you,"

beamed the kindly lady.

Descending to the office to buy some postcards, the boys found, lounging about the desk, a stoutish man with a rather dissipated face, puffy under the eyes and heavy about the jaws. A bright red necktie and patent-leather boots with cloth tops accentuated the decidedly "noisy"

impression he conveyed.

As the boys came down he eyed them sharply. Then he addressed them.

"My name's Lish Kelly," he said. "I'm manager of the United Aviators'

Exhibition Company. We're showing out at the City Park tomorrow.

I understand that you kids have been asked to b.u.t.t in."

"We've been asked to partic.i.p.ate, if that's what you mean," rejoined Roy rather sharply. The fellow's manner was offensive and overbearing.

"Well, see here, you stay out," rejoined the man, shaking a fat forefinger on which glistened a diamond ring of such proportions as to make it dubious if it boasted a genuine stone.

"You stay out of it," he repeated.

Roy and Jimsy were almost dumfounded. The man's tone was one of actual command.

"Why? Why should we stay out of it?" demanded Roy.

"The mayor of the town has asked us to take part," came from Jimsy; "what have you got to do with it?"

"It's this way," said the man in rather a less overbearing way than he had hitherto adopted; "we're going about the country giving flights. The city gives us the park in this town and we get so much of the receipts.

But we rely on winning the prizes, see. Now if you kids b.u.t.t in, why you might win some of them and that knocks my profit out. Get me?"

"I understand you, if that's what you mean," rejoined Roy; "but I still fail to see why we should not compete if we want to."

The man placed his hand on the boy's shoulder impressively.

"'Cos if you do it'll make trouble for you, sonny."

"Who'll make it?" flashed back Roy indignantly.

"I will, son, and I'm some trouble maker when I start anything along them lines, take it from me."