of the crowd showed their appreciation of the marvel of witnessing
five aeroplanes in the air at once.

Of the other starters two came to grief with engine troubles and yet
two others crashed together in collision. A third, a queer freak craft
with flopping wings instead of a propeller, piled on top of them and
they were soon tangled in an inextricable mass of wires, torn canvas,
twisted braces, levers and angry aviators. This accident left the
field--or rather the air--clear for the other five contestants.

Almost in a line the quintette swept along, heading straight as homing
pigeons for the Harrowbrook Country Club, where a big delegation of
enthusiasts awaited to watch the contestants alight, drink the
prescribed cup of coffee, take on gasolene and start back.

"Steady as she goes, old boy," said Frank, as Harry excitedly cried to
him to put on more power, "we are doing very nicely."

"But look at the Buzzard" cried the younger boy, "she's ahead of us!"

It was true their chief rival--on a lower course than the Golden
Eagle--had indeed forged about half a mile to the fore. From time to
time the boys could see the black figure of her operator turn about
and gaze back to gauge the distance he was ahead.

The roar of the crowd had died out several minutes before and the only
sound to be heard now, as the Golden Eagle swept along at a height of
five hundred feet or more, was the drone of the engines of their own
and the other contestants' craft.