village is just beyond," cried Farmer Goggins; "but, boys, don't risk
your necks on my account."

"Oh, we are not risking our necks," laughed Frank reassuringly; "but,
tell me, is there a good meadow or a bit of flat land there to light
on?"

"The whole ground just beyond the red lights at the crossing is as
flat as the back of your hand and unfenced," was the reassuring reply,
"it is used for a circus and show ground. It will make a good place
for you to light."

"All right," cried Frank, "that's all I wanted to know. Now then,
Harry, are you ready?"

"All right here," answered the boy.

"Then let her go."

The propeller roared and as the craft sped forward, with a warning
shout from Frank that scattered the crowd like chaff, the lad threw on
the searchlight which had been rapidly adjusted as the plane was
wheeled out.

A dazzling shaft of white light cut the darkness ahead of the Golden
Eagle, as on her wings, tinted crimson by the glare of the fire, she
rose into the night.

Frank headed her for the direction in which he knew Westbury lay, and
gradually increased the speed till the craft, her great single eye