warmly welcome his best friend.

"Yes, just arrived," answered Dave.

"I've been cleaning up the machine," explained Hiram. "It's old
Grimshaw's fault."

"What is?"

"Taking the Baby Racer out."

"Oh, the machine has been out, then, has it?" remarked Dave.

"Yes, and up. Say, Dave, I made the five hundred feet level. I
hope you're not put out. It was a chance to make fifty dollars."

"Fifty dollars?"

"Uh-huh," bobbed Hiram in a broad grin.

"How was that?"

"Why, Grimshaw was piloting a party over the grounds. Rich man and
his family-wife, son and two daughters. The youngest one was a
daring little miss. She wanted to fly, and would fly. Grimshaw got
to bragging about what you had done with the Baby Racer. Well,
nothing would do but I must roll the little beauty out."

"That was all right, Hiram," the young aviator hastened to say. "I
should always feel that the biplane is safe in your hands."