tales of her harrowing experiences on the Nevada desert. To all of which
he listened with keen attention. At least he did so to all outward
appearance, but his eyes were riveted on the door through which Peggy had
vanished.

When she emerged a very business-like Peggy had taken the place of the
lounger in the hammock. A linen duster, fitting tightly, covered her from
top to toe. A motoring bonnet of maroon silk imprisoned her hair, and upon
its rim, above her forehead, was perched a pair of goggles. Gauntlets
encased her hands.

"Looks rather too warm to be comfortable, doesn't it?" she laughed. "But
we shall find it cool enough up above."

"Perhaps the lieutenant----" ventured Miss Prescott.

"Oh, yes. How stupid of me not to have thought of it!" exclaimed Peggy.
"Mr. Bradbury, you will find aviation togs inside there."

"By Jove; she knows enough not to call a naval officer 'lieutenant,'"
thought the young officer, as, with a bow and a word of thanks, he
vanished to equip himself for his aerial excursion.

By the time he was invested in a similar long duster, with weighted seams,
and had donned a cap and goggles, the larger of the two aeroplanes, named
the _Golden Butterfly_, was ready for its passengers. Old Sam and his son,
who had dragged it out--it moved easily on its landing wheels--stood by,
their awe of the big craft showing plainly on their faces.

A section of the fence had been made removable, so as to give the Prescott