When the girls awakened at practically the same time—for Louise, in stirring, moved against Linda—they were horrified to see that it was half past eight by their wrist watches.
"Two hours wasted!" groaned Louise. "And it's going to be hot today! Oh, Linda, why didn't we wake up at six?"
"Next time I'll bring an alarm clock," laughed her companion. "Come on, let's straighten ourselves up. I—I—believe I'd rather not swim!"
"No, indeed!" agreed Louise, recalling the horror they had witnessed the night before. "We'll use what water we have—we can't carry much on our hike anyway.... Now, let's see what we have for breakfast."
"There's some fruit left, and a little bit of chicken. With water to drink we'll have a fine meal."
They sat down beside the plane to eat, and both girls seemed to enjoy their breakfast,meager as it was. For each had resolutely made up her mind to be cheerful.
"Are the pearls safe?" asked Linda, as she gathered up the chicken bones.
"In my pocket!" replied Louise, taking them out for examination. "How about your pistol?"
"O.K.... Lou! Look! A plane!"
Both girls jumped instantly to their feet and waved their arms and their coats in the air as signals of distress. If only the pilot would look down and see them!
He was flying low enough to make this perfectly possible, but a moment later his ascent sent a sickening disappointment into their hearts. He was going away without even seeing them! Useless to yell; no one could possibly hear above the deafening noise. To be so near to a rescue, and then to have it fail them in the end!
It was Linda, with her knowledge of flying, who was the first to realize that the aviator wasn't really going away, that he was only retreating farther into the field to make a safe landing, clear of them and their plane. In her ecstasy she hugged Louise tightly.
"He's coming down, Lou! To rescue us!"
"How do you know?" demanded the other, incredulously. "He seems to be going farther away to me!"
"No, he isn't! It's only to land clear of us. Lou, it must be Roger!"
"Roger? Why? How!"
"Because he would investigate, when we failed to telephone!"
"But suppose it's another bandit—like—you know! Get your revolver!"
"It's right here. But don't worry, Lou. Look! He's on the ground!"
The pilot brought the beautiful new cabin monoplane expertly to a stop and shut off the engine. To the girls' amazement two men, not one, stepped out. Both of them were old friends!
"Roger! Ted!" cried both the girls at once, in their delight in recognizing them. They felt as if they had been rescued from a desert island.
"You're both safe? Unhurt?" cried Roger, excitedly.
"Thank God!" murmured Ted, reverently.
"Yes—safe, but stranded," replied Louise. "We've only seen one person since noon yesterday—and he couldn't speak English!"
"Nevertheless, he's the one you owe the rescue to!" replied Roger.
"You saw him?" demanded Linda, incredulously. "But you must have been out hunting for us, first, Roger. Oh, I think you're just wonderful!"
"No—the credit goes to Mr. Mackay," returned Roger, modestly. "And the German fellow, with his apple-cart." And he proceeded to relate in detail everything that had led to their pursuit and discovery.
"Your shoulder is all right, Ted?" inquired Linda, after she heard that he was back at his job.
"Yes, fine, thank you. And I can never thank you enough for what you did for me, Linda! I'll tell you all about it later."
"Oh, that was nothing!" protested the girl lightly. Then, turning anxiously to Roger, "Have you any news of my father?"
"He is alive, but that is all my mother could learn last night from the housekeeper over the telephone. But don't worry—you'll be there yourself in a few hours!"
"How?" she asked, glancing helplessly at her plane. "There's something wrong with my motor. It may take a long time to fix—and—if I go by train—Daddy might—" she stopped; she just couldn't say "die."
"You're flying in my new plane!" Roger informed her. "Which I have just purchased from Mr. Mackay. We'll leave right away, or as soon as he examines yours, so he can tell mewhat to send out to him here. We'll stop somewhere and phone for help."
"Roger, would you really do that?" cried Linda, in relief. "That would be wonderful!"
"A pleasure!" he said. "Now—tell us what happened to you."
"I really don't know, except that the motor acted awfully queer. But I was lucky enough to make a safe landing."
"It was just dreadful," put in Louise. "I was absolutely certain we were going to be killed. Linda was wonderful."
"She's a fine little pilot," said Ted, admiringly. "Shows she can keep her head in an emergency—and that's one of the most important things for an aviator.... Now, let's have a look at the plane."
They all went with him while he examined it.
"I'm afraid I can't fix it without some new parts, and some special tools," he said, making notes as he spoke. "But it's nothing that can't be repaired quickly. If you'll telephone our Denver field, Mr. Stillman, and read this note to the mechanic, they'll send a man out. And as soon as it's fixed, I'll pilot it to you at the ranch, Linda.... Be sure to give me the directions.... Now, have you girls had anything to eat?"
"Oh, yes, we had supper last night," answered Louise, "left over from our picnic lunch, and we even saved some fruit and some chicken for breakfast."
"Then you people might as well start," urged Ted. "No use wasting time."
"One thing more," added Louise, while Linda busied herself writing the directions for Ted, "we almost forgot! We found a wrecked plane last night—two men dead—and recovered the necklace!"
"What?" demanded Ted, in consternation.
Roger, however, did not know what they were talking about, and no one had time to explain.
"The wreck's over by a stream—about half a mile beyond those bushes," Louise informed Ted. "You can explore it while you're waiting."
"And maybe salvage some of it!" added Ted, hopefully.
Five minutes later the other three took off in the new plane, Louise somehow sitting on Linda's lap. It wasn't very comfortable, but it would not be for far. They would descend at the nearest landing place, Roger getting in touch with Denver, while Louise called MissCarlton, Mrs. Stillman, and her parents, and then summoned a taxicab, to take her to a railroad station.
The rest of the trip was smooth and uneventful. Once only did they make a stop after Louise left—that time to get some lunch at a hotel in Fort Worth. In another hour they reached the ranch and landed right on Mr. Carlton's field, for Linda knew from former directions just where the best spot would be.
"Come in with me, Roger," she invited, trying to keep her voice steady.
They approached the house, an old-fashioned, rambling affair, and knocked at the screen door. A middle-aged woman, neatly dressed, came through the hall.
"How do you do, Mrs. Cates," said Linda. "I am Mr. Carlton's daughter, and this is Mr. Stillman, who has brought me in his plane."
"Good afternoon," replied the older woman. "Come right in, my dear. I've been expecting you."
Linda had been watching her face, to try to ascertain from her expression whether the news of her father was bad.
"How—how—is Daddy?" she asked, with trembling lips, as she and Roger followed Mrs. Cates into the big room where her father evidently spent most of his indoor hours. A huge fireplace occupied most of one wall, and there were many book-shelves. A table, a few chairs, and an old couch were all the other furnishings, so that the great room looked almost empty and desolate without its master.
"He is still alive—but unconscious," sighed Mrs. Cates, shaking her head mournfully. Her expression was one of resignation; she felt sure that Mr. Carlton could not get better.
"Unconscious!" repeated Linda. "Has he been so, long?"
"Ever since his fall. He was riding a new horse—that he never should have bought—and was thrown down a steep bank. His leg is broken, but worse than that, he suffered severe internal injuries. Dr. Winston is afraid there ain't much hope."
The words were the cruelest Linda had ever heard; she burst out crying, and hid her face on Mrs. Cates' motherly shoulder. Roger Stillman remained standing, embarrassed. He did not know what to do.
He coughed slightly, and Linda looked up, ashamed of herself for breaking down.
"Is there anything at all, Linda, that I can do for you?" he asked. "Or for you, Mrs. Cates?"
"I'm afraid not, thank you, Roger," replied the girl. "But don't you want something to eat before you start back?"
"No, thanks. I ought to be home early this evening, and I'll get supper then. I'm not a bit hungry now." And with a sympathetic handshake, he left her.
"Would you like to go to your room, my dear—or do you want to see your father first?" asked the housekeeper. "I have him here on the ground floor."
"I want to see Daddy!" replied Linda, wiping the tears from her eyes.
The older woman led her across the hall to a room where the door was open, and she caught sight of her father, lying almost lifeless upon the bed. Impulsively Linda rushed in to him. It just didn't seem possible that he wouldn't recognize her, and hold out his arms to receive her!
But he continued to lie death-like upon the bed, his head motionless upon the pillow. His eyes were closed.
"Daddy! Daddy darling!" she cried, in a voice that shook with pain. Dropping to her knees, she knelt beside his bed, and covered his limp hand with kisses.
But there was no response whatever to her greeting!
For some time she stayed there, praying that he would get better. Mrs. Cates had left them alone, but in half an hour she came back.
"Come, my dear, you must get some rest. Take off your clothing, and wash your face and hands and lie down for a while. Then perhaps you will be able to eat some supper."
Obediently Linda did as she was told, for she realized that the housekeeper was only trying to be kind. And, after a short nap, she had to admit that she felt better.
"Any change, Mrs. Cates?" was her first question, when she sat down to supper with the woman and her husband. The rest of the help ate in the kitchen, but Mrs. Cates realized that this was no time for the girl to be alone.
"No. Not a bit."
"Oughtn't there to be a trained nurse?"
"Dr. Winston didn't think so. I'm doing what needs to be done."
"When will the doctor be back?"
"Tonight, after supper."
Somehow Linda felt dissatisfied, as if enough were not being done. Another doctor should have been called in—a surgeon, perhaps. And surely a trained nurse.
She spoke of these things to Dr. Winston when he came over about eight o'clock that evening. But he shook his head.
"I'm afraid nothing can save your father, my child," he said. "There's only one chance in a thousand he might get well, if we operated. And there's only one surgeon in the United States who ever had any success with that sort of operation."
"But if there isone!" cried Linda, eagerly jumping to the tiny hope his words suggested. "We must get that surgeon! Who is he? Where is he?" She was talking rapidly, excitedly, almost incoherently.
"He is a Dr. Lineaweaver. A marvelous man. But I happen to know he is away on his vacation now."
"Where does he go?"
"That I don't know."
"But you know where he lives?"
"Yes. St. Louis."
"Then won't you please call his home and find out where he is, and I'll go for him as soon as I get my plane back."
The doctor shook his head sorrowfully.
"I'm afraid it's too late, my child. I—I—doubt if your father will live through the night.And you couldn't fly at night—even if your plane were here."
"I can—and will! And I think I hear my plane now—yes, I'm sure that's it. Get me the address—quick—and you put in the call while I run out and see my plane! And try to get a trained nurse immediately. I'll be back before dawn—unless the surgeon's in Europe or Canada!"
And, dashing in to give her father one kiss, she hurried out to find faithful Ted Mackay, alighting from her beloved Arrow.
"Ted!"
"Linda!"
"You can't know how thankful I am to see you!" cried the girl. "It—it—may mean that I can save my father's life!" And she told him of her plans.
"If I could only go with you!" sighed the young man. "I hate to think of you flying alone at night!"
"But you do believe I'm capable, don't you, Ted?" Linda's eyes searched his for the truth; she was not asking for flattery, she really wanted his opinion.
"Yes indeed I do!" Ted answered, with assurance. "But it's always safer for two pilots to go together. However, the Pursuit is in fine shape now—and filled up with gas.... Linda, I have something to tell you."
"Yes?"
"About the wreck—and—those thieves.... The other dead man was my father."
"Your father! Ted!" Every bit of color left the girl's face. What a dreadful, ghastly thing to happen to anybody, and especially to a fine boy like Ted! To come upon his father, dead, in that abrupt fashion, and to know, worst of all, that he had died in disgrace!
Finding no words to express her sympathy, she pressed his hand tightly in silence.
"So you see how much I have to do—why I can't go with you," he continued. "I have reported the wreck to my company, and made arrangements about my father's body. But I must go right home to my mother."
"But how do you explain it all, Ted?" Linda asked.
"I think my father was paying one of his regular visits to the Spring City Flying School—he came there once in so often to get money from me—and he was disappointed to find I had gone. Whether he knew that other man before, I don't know, but it would seem probable that he did. Together they must have cooked up the scheme to follow your plane and get the necklace.... That is why it is really fortunate the man got the necklace by a ruse. You see he was armed with a gun—as I later found out, and if he had had to fight for the jewels, I'm sure he wouldn't have hesitated to fire on you!"
"And I suppose your father's being involved would explain why you were suspected," added Linda. "You look like him, I believe."
"Yes. To my regret."
"But perhaps it's better as it is," concluded Linda. "Don't you feel so, Ted?"
"Yes, I do. It—will be so much easier for my mother.... But Linda, we mustn't stand here talking. Every minute is precious to you."
"No. I can't go till Dr. Winston comes out with the surgeon's address. He's putting in a long distance call. However, I will go in and change into my flyer's suit, if you don't mind," she added.
Five minutes later she reappeared with the information that Dr. Lineaweaver was in Louisiana—at a small seaport town which Ted instantly located on a map that he gave to Linda.
"I won't even start off with you," the young man said, "because that would mean an extra stop for you. Now—are you sure you are all right—and that you can stay awake?"
"Yes, I'm sure," replied the girl, forcing a smile. "Mrs. Cates has just given me a thermos bottle full of coffee, and a sandwich, to help me!"
A moment later she climbed into the cockpit and started the motor. The Pursuit, whose engine purred with the smooth even whir of one in perfect order, gained speed until it rose into the air. It was Linda's first flight at night.
Darkness was all around her, but overhead the stars shone brightly, and the moon came from behind a cloud to light her way. Strange, lonely, mysterious, it seemed to her, as she flew through the night, but nevertheless thrilling. Gradually a sense of peace settled over her, as if a Divine Providence was surely guiding her, and she experienced the firm conviction that everything was right, that she was going to be successful in her mission to save her father's life.
For the first time she realized how much her confidence had to do with Ted Mackay. Because he had repaired and inspected the motor, she felt certain there would be no accident, and a successful flight was a good omen for the operation. Moreover, she had great faith in Dr. Lineaweaver. If he would only promise to come!
The hours passed, the moon set, the night grew darker. But the solitary girl flew on, swift and straight to her course, steadfast in her undertaking. About two o'clock she arrived at the little seaport, found a landing place back of the one big hotel, and went inside.
Fortunately a night clerk was on duty, andhe rose immediately to greet her. The flyer's costume identified her so that he had no need to ask what a girl of her age was doing alone at this early hour of the morning.
"Can you tell me where Dr. Lineaweaver, the surgeon, can be located?" she inquired. "I want him immediately—it is a question of my father's life."
Her voice was steady now; there was no danger of tears. She seemed almost mature as she spoke the words.
"Yes," replied the clerk. "He is staying at Dr. Grayson's bungalow—a couple of blocks away. They come over here for their meals."
"Could you get him on the telephone for me?"
"Certainly. I'll let you talk with him."
Although the clerk put in the call immediately, there was no answer for several minutes. A fishing trip had tired both doctors, and they were sleeping soundly. At last, however, there came a reply, and Linda took the telephone.
In a few words the unhappy girl apologized for the call at that hour, and during the surgeon's holiday, and briefly told her story. Eagerly she pleaded with him to dress and come immediately, informing him that she had her plane waiting.
"You mean you flew from Texas alone—at this hour of the night!" exclaimed the surgeon.
"Yes. But you needn't be afraid, Doctor, to go with me. I'm quite experienced. Oh please, please, say yes!"
"I'll be at the hotel in ten minutes," replied the great man. "And meanwhile, you get something to eat."
Linda sank gratefully into a chair, thinking that the hardest part of her task was over—the winning of Dr. Lineaweaver's consent to break into his vacation and go back with her. Now, if her father only lived until they returned, all would surely be well!
Still keeping herself in control, she ate her sandwich and drank her coffee, while she waited for the doctor to come. True to his word, he appeared in exactly ten minutes.
The flight back to the ranch was much pleasanter than the one to the seaport. No longer was Linda alone; it was a comfort to have the great surgeon with her, to know that he would do all in his power to save her father. The darkness gradually faded, giving place to a faint gray, and finally to a beautiful, inspiring sunrise. A dawn that perhaps meant new life to her father!
It did not take Dr. Lineaweaver long to realize that Linda was an accomplished pilot, and he settled back into his seat in full enjoyment of the ride. His surprise at her youth—she was much younger than he had supposed from the telephone conversation—gradually gave way to admiration of her skill and her poise. He had no fear for his own safety; he was confident that she would make the journey without a mishap.
About seven o'clock she brought the Pursuit to a stop on the field that belonged to her father's ranch. Cates was already there to greet them.
"Is my father still alive?" she demanded, with the first indication of any strain in her voice.
"Yes," came the reassuring reply. "He is just the same."
"And did you succeed in getting a nurse?"
"Yes. Dr. Winston's here too.... Now, the Mrs. said to bring you both in for a hot breakfast."
Linda was so excited that she did not see how she could possibly eat, but when she realized that the surgeon must take time for something, she finally agreed. But first she tiptoed in for a look at her father, and gave him a kissthat was really a prayer. A white-clad nurse smiled at her, and she believed hopefully that all was well.
The inaction, the weary, tense waiting of the next two hours was more difficult for Linda than her flight to Louisiana, alone in the darkness. She had nothing to do. Sleep was out of the question, yet she was terribly tired. But she could not sit still; aimlessly she followed Mrs. Cates around, begging for work. At last the good woman, realizing that the girl could not rest, set her to washing dishes and preparing vegetables for the noon-day meal.
But finally the operation was over, and Linda's heart stood still as she heard Dr. Winston coming out of her father's room. Suppose it had all been in vain! She covered her face with her hands, she dared not trust herself to look into his eyes, that would tell her, before he could utter the words, whether her father had lived.
And then came the glorious news that set her heart to singing as if the whole world had been recreated in joy and happiness:
"Your father is doing nicely, Miss Carlton.... Dr. Lineaweaver believes that he will get well."
Now the tears came in floods, tears of thankfulness and gladness, and she hugged Mrs. Cates in her ecstasy.
"It was a wonderful operation," continued Dr. Winston. "Dr. Lineaweaver is the greatest surgeon I have ever had the honor to watch."
"Thank God! Thank God!" murmured Mrs. Cates, reverently.... "And now, honey, you must go and get some sleep!"
"Not till I've thanked Dr. Lineaweaver!" protested Linda, and she ran off like a happy child, unmindful of the terrible strain she had just been through.
When Linda was permitted, the following day, to go in to see her father, she found him conscious, but she knew from his expression that he was suffering severe pain. However, he managed a feeble smile as she entered, that sent a surge of joy to her heart.
"Daddy!" she exclaimed, her voice choked with thankfulness, "you are going to get well!"
He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"Yes, dear, thanks to you," he managed to murmur.
"You mean thanks to the Pursuit—and to Dr. Lineaweaver," she corrected. She wanted to add Ted Mackay's name to the list, but she felt it would not be wise.
Her father smiled; it was like Linda to disclaim any credit for herself.
"I phoned Aunt Emily last night," she added, "and she is coming out in a couple of days."
"Well, don't let her make a fuss over me," was his unexpected reply.
Linda squeezed his hand jubilantly; he was talking like himself again!
She did not stay with him long—the nurse thought fifteen minutes was enough—but she was satisfied. Now that she felt sure he was getting better, time no longer hung heavy on her hands. There was so much to do at the ranch—so many activities that she enjoyed. Hiking, fishing, riding horseback, even helping Cates with the kitchen garden or driving the battered Ford into Fort Worth on errands.
Her aunt arrived a few days later, bringing a trunk as usual. Linda laughed at the idea of carrying so many clothes to a ranch—she practically lived in her old riding-breeches and khaki shirt-waists—but Miss Carlton could not be comfortable unless she was perfectly dressed.
"Linda, my darling!" exclaimed the older woman, as they kissed each other. "Think how near I came to losing you!"
"Oh, no, Aunt Emily, you mustn't say that! Even though Lou and I were stranded, there was no danger of our dying. We could have hiked the whole way home, if it had been necessary."
"But youalmosthad a serious accident!"
"Well, we didn't. And since my plane saved Daddy's life, you're converted to them now, aren't you?" pleaded the girl.
"I do think they're useful," admitted the other. "And I really believe that you are an exceptionally fine pilot, my dear."
"It's awfully sweet of you to say that, Aunt Emily.... But don't let's talk about it any more. Come in and see Daddy. He's expecting you."
Miss Carlton was amazed and delighted to find that her brother's progress had been so rapid, and she began to talk immediately about taking him back to Green Falls with her, in a week or so. He could bring his nurse with him, perhaps charter a private car.
"Must we go back so soon, Aunt Emily?" asked Linda. "I love it here!"
"It's too wild for me," replied Miss Carlton. "And too lonely. Besides, we have to be on hand for Field Day. It's the biggest event of the summer at Green Falls."
"All right," agreed Linda pleasantly. "Whatever you say."
"By the way, did you tell your father about finding the necklace? When Louise came home with it, I thought Kitty Clavering'd go crazy!Such a queer circumstance, too—you girls finding it the way you did!"
"No, I didn't tell Daddy yet," replied Linda, blushing. She had been afraid to bring Ted's name, or his father's, into the conversation with her father, when he was still so ill.
"You see, Daddy," she explained, turning to him, as he lay there quietly on his bed, "Lou and I were taking a trip in the Pursuit, and something went wrong with the motor, forcing us to land in a desolate spot. After our picnic supper, while Lou and I went swimming, we—we—came upon a wrecked plane, and—and—two dead men. The two thieves!" She paused, but suddenly remembered that her aunt did not know that one of the men was Ted's father, for that fact had been ascertained after Louise left. "And we got the necklace!"
"Whew!" exclaimed Mr. Carlton, in amazement at their luck, and horror at the experience. "Pretty sickening for you two girls! But, by the way, did the other fellow have red hair?"
"Yes, he did. Though Lou and I only saw him from a distance. We didn't want to go too near, for luckily the necklace was in the man's coat beside the wreck, and the bodies were some distance away."
Seeing that the subject was unpleasant toLinda, Mr. Carlton never mentioned it to her again during her entire visit.
Three weeks passed happily, and her father was sitting up in his chair, when her aunt's restlessness became so apparent that Linda was willing to go back to Green Falls.
"You see I'm on the committee for Field Day, my dear," explained Miss Carlton, apologetically. "Besides, I hope you can take part in the events."
"How could I, Aunt Emily? I'm not in practice for golf or tennis, or any of the contests. I'm afraid I'd be a joke."
"I thought perhaps you might enter the airplane competitions," suggested her aunt, to Linda's consternation.
"Do you really mean it, Aunt Emily?" cried the girl, in delight. "Why, I'd adore that!"
"Well, we'll see what the program calls for. If it isn't anything too dangerous, like parachute jumping.... And another thing—it is very important for you to be on hand, because Louise is planning a surprise that you don't want to miss."
"Is she going to announce her engagement to Ralph Clavering, or Harriman Smith?"
"Not that I know of! She isn't engaged to Ralph, is she?"
"She wasn't when I last saw her. But absence often lends enchantment, you know!"
Miss Carlton looked searchingly into her niece's eyes, but she could see only laughter in them. "Wouldn't you mind a bit, Linda, if Louise married Ralph?" she inquired.
"Yes, certainly I'd mind," replied the girl seriously, "I don't think Ralph—or any other boy we know—is good enough for Lou!"
"Oh, is that all?"
"Yes, that's all. Marriage is too serious for either of us—yet.... Now tell me, Auntie, what you meant by that surprise!"
"You wait and see! It's something you'll like."
Linda thought perhaps it was the delightful party that greeted her when she landed, three days later, at Green Falls. All of the old crowd were there to welcome her—Louise and Dot Crowley, the two Claverings, Jim Valier and Harriman Smith, Sara Wheeler, Sue Emery, Maurice Stetson, and Joe Sinclair. They presented her with a beautiful little silver airplane, a model for her desk, which served a useful purpose as a stamp-box. Miss Carlton, who had arrived the day before by train, had arranged an elaborate dinner for the whole party.
There was so much to talk about—the championships the young people were hoping to win, the airplane stunts for which two noted flyers had been engaged, the contests in flying that anyone with a private pilot's license might enter. In this last event they were all hoping to star Linda.
"Even a race, Linda," said Ralph, who seemed to have forgotten all about their quarrel. "You'll enter, won't you?"
"Yes, indeed!" replied the girl, her eyes shining with anticipation. "Aunt Emily has already given her consent."
Thinking there had been enough talking and too little dancing, Kitty Clavering suggested that they turn on the radio. She was wearing her pearl necklace, and rushing over every few minutes to kiss Linda or Louise, in appreciation of their having recovered it.
"This is to be our last party, for almost a week," she said. "Ralph says we all have to go in training—though I'd never win anything if I trained for years. But I can't do much, with all the rest of you practicing tennis and golf and swimming every minute, and going to bed at ten o'clock! So let's make this party good!"
The evening passed happily, and no one but Kitty seemed to resent the fact that they gaveup social activities and late hours for a few days. They all worked seriously at their own particular sports, and Linda practiced loops and speeding with her plane.
Labor Day dawned, hot but clear—splendid weather for the out-door event of the season. The Casino and the grounds around it were gayly decorated for the fête; a band supplied music whenever there was a lull, and refreshment-booths everywhere offered an opportunity for the guests to eat outside, if they did not prefer the more formal luncheon and dinner served at the restaurant.
Golf tournaments, swimming races and diving contests were on the program for the morning, and the finals in tennis were to be played off soon after lunch. Then came archery and quoits, drills by the Boy Scouts and a pageant by the Girl Scouts. The last thing before supper was the exhibition of flying.
Linda had decided not to go to the grounds in the morning, for she wanted to have a mechanic inspect her plane, to ascertain that everything was just right before her participation in the most spectacular event of the day. She arrived soon after luncheon in the Pursuit, leaving it at the runway behind the grounds, and strolling over to the tennis matches,watched Ralph capture the men's singles' cup, and Dot Crowley take the women's.
She found the archery contest interesting, and almost wished she had entered, for her father had taught her the art of the bow. However, on the whole she was satisfied to concentrate all her energy upon flying.
The acrobatics came first on the program; two aviators of considerable repute in their profession had been advertised, although their names had not yet been divulged. What was Linda's amazement, when she heard Edward Mackay and Sam Hunter being introduced by the chairman! This had been her aunt's doing, no doubt, for the latter was on the committee. Was this the surprise she had so mysteriously mentioned, and if so, what was Louise's part in it?
A hush fell over the huge throng as they watched the two flyers ascend into the air and demonstrate all sorts of stunts for their amusement. The falling leaf, the Immelman turn, the inside loop, and the much more difficult outside loop—and a number of others to which even Linda could not give a name. Then finally, from a height of five thousand feet, Ted Mackay stepped off in a parachute and came safely to the ground.
While she had been watching these skillful yet dangerous performances, Linda's heart beat fast with excitement, her breath came in little gasps of fear or relief, as the stunt began fearfully or ended in safety. But now that her own turn was coming, she was surprisingly calm and self-possessed.
With five other amateur flyers, all of whom were young men, she taxied along the runway and took off into the air, mounting to fifteen hundred feet, carefully keeping clear of her opponents. The looping began; she completed one inside loop after another, until she had scored six. Then she realized that she was too near the ground to take a chance with another, and it was too late to ascend again. With the wisdom of an Earhart or a Lindbergh, who never sacrifices safety for the sake of foolish publicity, she cautiously landed. A few minutes later the other planes all came down. Only one pilot, a college boy whom she had just met, scored over her by completing ten loops.
After a short interval of rest, the signal that was to start the race was given, and a moment later the gun went off, and six planes ascended again, this time aiming for speed.
As the Pursuit soared smoothly upward and then straight ahead, Linda experienced a greatsurge of pride—not for herself, but for her wonderful little plane. It was almost as if it were a living thing, like a beloved horse. So light, so easy to guide, so sure of its power! On and on it sped, forging its way ahead, passing now one plane and then another until it came abreast of the leader. The thrill, the intoxication of the race took possession of the young aviatrix, and she urged it on to its fullest speed.
Now she was passing the one that had looked like the winner from the first! The shouts of her friends below were inaudible to her, but she could feel their applause in her heart. In another second the gun went off with a loud explosion which even the pilots could hear. The race was over; Linda Carlton, the only feminine entry, had won!
Her friends, even acquaintances and strangers, almost mobbed her when she finally landed. And the college boy who had come in second was nicest of all. He and Ralph, forming a seat with their hands, carried her high above their shoulders, through the crowd to the Casino where the prizes were to be awarded.
Two cups had been provided as a reward for the looping and the racing, and, amid the applause of hundreds, Linda and her new friendreceived them. But that was not all; the chairman held up his arm for silence.
"I have another privilege!" he shouted, and the people suddenly became quiet. "Our club, which among other things fosters aviation for useful purposes, and is always on the lookout for deeds of courage which result in the saving of life, wishes to make an award for such an action. We have discovered, entirely unknown to her, that Miss Carlton made a record flight to bring a noted surgeon to her dying father, in time to perform the operation that saved his life. I therefore take great pleasure in awarding this medal to Miss Linda Carlton, of Green Falls!"
A deep wave of color surged over the girl's face as she listened to her own name in connection with the speaker's words. Was it possible that this great honor should come to her, when she had merely performed her duty, and been thankful to be able to do it? Her knees shook, her eyelids fluttered, as she blushingly stepped forward again. But she caught sight of Louise among the crowd—Lou, who had arranged this as her surprise—and then she saw her aunt, with Ted beside her, and she suddenly felt at ease, and smiled.
It was over at last, the applause and the congratulations, and Linda was walking with these three back to her plane when she noticed a wheelchair, pushed by a white-clad nurse. It must be—it was—her father!
"Daddy!" she cried, pushing her way through the crowd to him. "You are here! How wonderful!"
"It is you who are wonderful, my dear girl!" he returned. "I am prouder than I have ever been in my life!"
"Daddy—" she lowered her voice—"you don't mind my being with Ted Mackay? Because Aunt Emily——"
"Of course not!" he interrupted. "I know all about the boy's part in saving you—your aunt told me. I—I—am ready to admit I was wrong. You will forgive me?"
"Why, of course!" She smiled joyfully; there was so much to be happy about now. "And may I have him for a friend?" she asked, timidly.
"So long as you don't marry him—or anybody else—for a long time!"
Her reply was reassuring:
"I won't, Daddy dear! My career as a flyer has only just begun!"
THE END