"Let's drop down on one of those patches and do some exploring," suggested Peggy.

"All right," agreed Roy, nothing loath. The Golden Butterfly was headed downward.

In a few minutes they landed on a smooth spot surrounded by trees. Leaving the aeroplane, they struck off on a path through the woods. "Wonder if we can't find some huckleberries hereabouts," suggested Roy.

"Oh, yes, lots. Wouldn't it be dandy to take home a bucketful by aeroplane!"

"There's a little hut off yonder, maybe we could get a bucket or something there."

"Let's see if there are any berries first," said the practical Peggy.

From out of the hut shuffled an old woman. She was a wrinkled and hideous old hag, brown as a seasoned meerschaum pipe and in her mouth was a reeking corn cob.

Her feet were bare, and altogether she was a most repulsive old crone. She saw Roy and Peggy almost as soon as they saw her. For an instant she stood looking at them and then raised her voice in a sort of shrill shriek.

Instantly from the woods around several men appeared—wild-looking, bearded fellows, each of whom carried a rifle.

"What you alls want hyar?" demanded one who seemed to be the leader.

"We were just taking a walk," explained Roy.

"Wa'al, we all don't like strangers particlar."

"So it would seem," rejoined Roy, with a bold voice, although his heart was beating rather fast.

"How'd you alls get hyar?" was the next question from the inquisitor.

"We flew here," rejoined Roy truthfully.

But the man's face grew black with wrath.

"Don' you alls lie to me; it ain't healthy," he said.

"I'm not in the habit of doing so."

"But you said you flew hyar."

"Well, we did."

"See hyar, young stranger, you jes' tell me the truth 'bout how you came or by the eternal I'll make it hot fer you."

"I can only show you that I'm speaking nothing but the truth," rejoined the boy; "if you'll come with me I'll show you what we flew here in."

The man glanced at him suspiciously. It was plain that he feared a trap of some sort. His eyes were wild and shifty as a wolf's.

"Ain't you frum the guv-ment?" he asked.

"I don't know just what you mean."

"I reckin that's jus' more dum' lyin'."

"Thank you."

"Don' get sassy, young feller, it won't do you no good. But I'll come with you. Come on, boys, we'll take a look at this flyin' thing. I reckon that even if it is a trap there's enough of us to take care of a pack of them."

"That's right, Jeb," agreed the men.

Some of them, who had been hanging back in the bushes, now came forward. They were all as wild-looking as their leader, Jeb. The old woman mumbled and talked to herself as they strode off behind Roy and Peggy.

It was one of the strangest adventures of their lives and neither one of them could hit on any explanation of the hillmen's conduct.

It did not take long to reach the aeroplane, and Roy turned triumphantly to Jeb.

"Well," he said, "what do you think now?"

"Wa'al, it ain't flyin', is it?"

"Of course not, but I can make it."

"You kin?"

"Certainly."

"Flap its wings and all that like a burd?"

"No, it doesn't flap its wings."

"Then how kin it fly?" propounded Jeb.

A murmur of approval ran through the throng. Jeb's logic appealed to their primitive intellects.

"Nothing can't fly that don't flap its wings," said one of them.

"But if it didn't fly, how in tarnation did it git here?" asked an old man with a grizzled beard and blackened stumps of teeth projecting from shrunken gums.

This appeared to be a poser for even Jeb. He had nothing to say.

"If you like I'll give you a ride in it," proffered Roy to Jeb.

"All right; only no monkey tricks now."

"What do you mean?"

"Wa'al, in course I know it won't fly, but if it does you'll hev to let me out."

With this sage remark Jeb stepped gingerly into the chassis of the aeroplane. He sat down where he was told and Roy took the wheel. Jeb's companions gazed on in awed silence.

"Look out, Jeb," cried one.

"Don't hit the sky," yelled another.

"Bring me back a star," howled the facetious old man.

"Me a bit of the moon," called another.

Jeb said nothing to this raillery. Instead, he looked uneasily about him and held his rifle, which he had insisted on bringing with him, between his knees.

"All right?" asked Roy, looking back at him.

"As right as I ever will be," rejoined Jeb, with a rather sickly grin.

"You must hold tight," warned Peggy.

"I'm doing that," said Jeb.

And then with the same sickly grin:

"Say, miss, does it really fly?"

"Of course it does. As that old man said, how could it have got here if it didn't."

"I guess I'd better go home and git my coat," said Jeb, trying to climb out.

His demeanor had completely changed since he had climbed into the chassis. Something in its well-cushioned seats and the sight of the powerful engine and propeller seemed to have changed his mind about the capabilities of the Golden Butterfly.

But it was too late. With a roar the engine started. Instantly the little plateau was deserted. The mountaineers were all behind trees.

Jeb rushed for the side of the car.

"Sit down!" screeched Peggy, really fearing he would fall over.

But if Jeb's intention had been to climb out it was foiled.



"Wow!" he yelled, and again, "Wow-ow-ow! Lemme out."

"Too late now," shouted Roy.

The aeroplane shot upward, carrying as a passenger a man temporarily crazy from fright.

Suddenly Roy felt the muzzle of a rifle press against the back of his neck.

"Take me back to earth er I'll shoot," said a voice in his ear.

Roy obeyed, and so ended Jeb's first aeroplane ride. It may be added that it was also his last.



CHAPTER XXIV.

MR. PARKER'S STORY.

"It was a gang of moonshiners that you stumbled across," said Mr. Parker, when they told him of their adventure; "you were fortunate to escape as you did."

"I guess we have that aeroplane ride we gave to Jeb to thank for that," laughed Roy.

"It wasn't so laughable, though, when he pressed that rifle to your neck," declared Peggy.

"No, indeed. That was a mighty uncomfortable feeling, I can tell you."

"It reminds me of an experience I had with moonshiners once," said Mr. Parker. "Would you care to hear about it?"

Of course they would. They were sitting on the porch in the twilight after dinner. It was a happy group and they had been exploding with laughter over Roy's account of Jeb's ride.

"It was a good many years ago, when I was in the employ of the government," said Mr. Parker, "that what I am going to tell you about happened. I was a young fellow then, and a good bit of a dare-devil, so I was sent at the head of a body of men to rout out moonshiners.

"As you may know from your experience this morning, it is mighty dangerous to be suspected of being in the employ of the government, and so we posed as drummers and peddlers, scattering through the mountains.

"Each of us worked alone so as not to attract attention. Our job was merely to locate the illicit stills and then militia would be sent to raid and destroy them, and the vile stuff they concoct.

"I had been on the job about a week when I came one night to a desolate-looking little shack on a high mountainside. It did not look inviting, but I had to have shelter for the night, so I stepped to the door and knocked. A rather comely looking woman replied to my summons.

"'I'm a peddler,' I explained, 'could I get something to eat and a room here for the night?'

"She looked at me twice before answering.

"'What you tradin' in?' she asked, with a trace of suspicion.

"I judged from her manner that there was an illicit still in the neighborhood and that was what made her so suspicious.

"'Oh, laces, ribbons and so forth,' I replied.

"I showed her some samples.

"I'll give you breakfast, supper and a bed fer that bit of red ribbon,' she said.

"'I'll throw in this bit of blue,' said I gallantly.

"And so the bargain was struck. It was a small place, but neat and tidy. Two children were playing about and in a corner sat a man trying to read a month-old newspaper.

"Pop, this feller traded in these bits of ribbon fer bed and two meals,' she said, proudly exhibiting her goods and evidently thinking she had made an excellent bargain. I could see the gleam of triumph in her eye.

"'Humph!' grunted the man, 'much good those are.'

"Then he turned to me.

"'Peddler?' he asked.

"'Yes,' said I.

"'What you tradin' in?'

"'Oh, silks, laces and so forth,' rejoined I, repeating my formula.

"'Humph!'

"He looked at me, narrowing his eyes.

"'You don't look much like a peddler," said he.

"'No, I've seen better days,' I said, with a sigh.

"But I could see that he was still suspicious.

"'Where'd you come from?' was his next question.

"'South,' said I.

"'Where you going?'

"'North.'

"'Ain't much on conversation, be yer?' he asked.

"'No, I'm not considered a very talkative fellow,' I rejoined.

"We lapsed into silence. The man smoked. I just sat and thought the situation over. At last supper was announced. It was eaten almost in silence. The man discouraged all his wife's efforts at conversation. He was sullen and nervous.

"More than ever did I begin to suspect that there was a still in the immediate neighborhood. Soon after supper I pleaded fatigue and was shown up a flight of stairs, or rather a ladder, to a sort of attic. There was a husk mattress there, and a pile of rather dirty-looking blankets. But in those hills you learn to put up with what you can get. I was glad to have found shelter at all.

"But tired as I was for some reason I couldn't sleep. I felt a sort of vague uneasiness. I heard the man get up and go out and then later on I heard several voices downstairs.

"There were broad chinks in the floor, and through these I could look down. The men—there were four of them—were talking in low voices, but now and then I could catch a word. All of a sudden I heard one say something about government spy.

"That gave me a shock, I can tell you. I knew then they were talking about me. My predicament was a bad one if they suspected me. I began to look about me for a way to get out. While doing this I occasionally looked down below.

"The last time I looked I got a shock that made my hair stand. The fellows were moving about the room. From one corner one of them got a formidable-looking knife.

"Scared to death, I redoubled my efforts to find a way out. At last at one end of the room I found a chimney, one of those big stone affairs as big as all outdoors. I decided to try this.

"I found that it was rough inside, and I had not much difficulty in clambering up it. I was near the top when I heard a voice from the room below say:

"'Then we uns 'ull kill him right now.'

"'Yep, he's lived long enough. He's no good.'

"My heart jumped into my mouth. I redoubled my efforts and emerged from the top of the chimney. Reaching it, I lowered myself to the roof as gently as possible.

"The eaves came down low to the ground and I had not much difficulty in making my escape noiselessly."



CHAPTER XXV.

THE WREN DISAPPEARS.

"But as I reached the ground a startling thing happened. I missed my footing and found myself rolling down a steepish bank. At the bottom I fetched up against an odd-looking little hut almost overgrown with bushes. It was bright moonlight and the door was open.

"Inside was a fire, and by its light I could see that the place was empty of human life, but that a collection of objects already familiar to me almost filled it.

"It was an illicit still!

"Clearly enough, also, it was operated by my hosts up above.

"I listened for sounds of pursuit, but heard none. Possibly they had not yet crept into my room to perform their horrible resolve.

"Suddenly the silence was broken by appalling yells and screams. My hair bristled for an instant and then I burst into a laugh.

"It was a pig that I heard. At the same instant it dawned on me that it was the pig that they had been discussing dispatching and not me at all. You can imagine the revulsion of my feelings. But I felt sore at the scare they had given me, so I decided to do some work for the government and even up scores at the same time.

"Entering the shack, I scattered the coals of the fire right and left. Then I came away. No, I did not go back to the cabin. It would, as your friend Jeb said, not have been healthy for me.

"Instead I set off running at top speed through the woods. Before long I saw a glow on the sky behind me, and knew that flames were devouring the vile stuff that moonshiners make.

"I left my pack behind me, however, and I hope that compensated them for the loss of their still. I'm sure the woman, at any rate, would value its contents more highly."

They all burst into a laugh at the conclusion of Mr. Parker's odd story. They were still laughing when Mandy rushed out on the porch.

"Miss Wren done be gone!" she shouted.

"Gone!" they all echoed, in dismayed tones.

"Yes. I done go to her room to see de poo' lamb is com'foble, and she not there. I done find dis writin', too."

"Let me look at it," demanded Mr. Parker.

"It mighty hard to read. It sure is a scan-lous bit of writin'."

With this comment the colored woman handed over to her master a bit of dirty wrapping paper.

On it was scrawled in almost illegible characters:

"U wont git hur agin.—The Romanys."

"The Romanys!" exclaimed Peggy.

"Yes; that's the gipsy word for themselves," said Mr. Parker. "I'm afraid that the same band that had her before has stolen her again."

"What are we to do?" wailed Bess.

"Hush!" said Jess; "let Mr. Parker decide what is best."

They stood about with dismayed faces.

Miss Prescott was weeping softly. Peggy could hardly keep back her tears. The little brown Wren had become very dear to all of them. It was a hard blow indeed to lose her like this.

"But how could they know that she was here?" objected Jimsy.

"Why, that silly newspaper report that went out when you arrived here about your adventures on the way and the romantic rescue of Wren. If they had come across that it would have given them a clew."

"They were traveling south then, Wren said, and that was two weeks ago. They would have had ample time to reach this vicinity."

"That is so," rejoined Mr. Parker solemnly; "I'll make telephonic inquiries at once. They may have been seen in the vicinity."

"While you are doing that we'll examine the room. They may have left a clew there," said Roy.

Roy and Jimsy darted upstairs on this errand. On looking round the place it was clear enough how the abductors had gotten in. Outside the window was an extension roof. It would have been very easy for an active man such as gipsies usually are to have clambered in and out again without detection.

Taking a lantern they examined the ground outside. On a flower bed below the roof was the imprint of a man's feet.

"Notice anything peculiar about it?" asked Jimsy, for Roy was bending earnestly over the prints.

"Yes, I'd know that foot print again anywhere," he said; "see, one side of the man's boot was broken, the one of the right foot. His toes show here on the ground."

"That might be a good clew if it was daylight; but right now—"

Jimsy sighed. It was manifestly impossible to do any tracking of the man with the broken boot in the darkness.

"We'll have to wait till daylight."

"Yes, bother it all. They may be miles away by that time."

"I doubt it. I wouldn't wonder if they hide right around here. There are lots of good places, and they know that the hue and cry will be so hot that they would be caught if they traveled."

"That's so. Maybe we can find them, after all."

"Let's hope so. Well, we can do no more good here. Let's go in."

Peggy met them at the door. She seemed wildly excited over something.

"The mail rider's just been here," she exclaimed, "and listen to this letter. It's from a woman living near New York. She just got back from Europe and in an old newspaper she read an account of our sky cruise.

"She is certain that The Wren is her daughter and gives a description of her that tallies in every particular. She said that Wren was caught out in a heavy thunderstorm and sought refuge in a gipsy camp, as she learned afterward from a farmer who had seen her. She hunted high and low but has never since had word of the child. Her right name is Sylvia Harvey. Mrs. James Harvey is her mother, and she's rushing here as fast as a train will carry her."

"If it is really Sylvia Harvey then her mother has found her only to lose her again," sighed Jess.

"Don't say that," said Mr. Parker, coming into the room at that moment, "we'll leave no stone unturned to find her."

"Did you have any success with the telephone?"

"No; nobody has seen a band of people answering to the descriptions you gave of The Wren's abductors."

"Then we can do nothing more?"

The question came from Roy.

"Not to-night. It would be useless. I have notified all the police around and a general alarm will be sent out at once. And now I order every one to bed. We've hard work in front of us tomorrow."



CHAPTER XXVI.

CAPTURED BY GIPSIES.

About noon the next day Roy and Jimsy found themselves at the edge of a wild-looking section of country. They were standing at the entrance to a glen densely wooded with dark, forbidding-looking trees, and walled by precipitous and rugged rocks.

"Looks as if the trail ends here," said Jimsy disconsolately.

"It sure does. We can't——Gee, Whillikens!"

"What on earth is up now?"

"It's the broken-toed boot. Look here on the muddy bank of this little stream."

"By hooky, it is! We've struck the trail instead of ending it."

"What will we do; go back for reenforcements?"

"Not just yet. We'll reconnoiter a bit. See, the fellow went up this bank and—look there, Jimsy—there's a little footprint beside. He was dragging the child along."

With beating hearts the two boys entered the forbidding-looking glen. It was almost dark under the trees, which made the aspect of the place even more gloomy and desolate looking.

"This is a nice, cheerful sort of place," said Jimsy, in a low tone, as they walked along, following the bank of the stream, for the brush was too thick to admit of their walking anywhere else, which is what had driven the broken-booted man to leave a tell-tale trail behind him.

"I rather wish I had a gun," said Jimsy.

"We won't get close enough to them to need it," rejoined Roy; "we'll just spy out their hiding place and then go back for reenforcements."

"That's the best idea. I don't much fancy a hand-to-hand encounter with a band of such desperate ruffians as those gipsies have shown themselves to be."

"Don't be scared. We won't have any trouble if we're careful."

"I'm not scared; but if we did get in a tussle with them they could easily overpower us and then we'd have done more harm than good for they'd take fright and move right off."

"That's my idea. We'll be as cautious as mousing cats."

"Better stop talking, then. I never heard a mousing cat mi-ouw."

Cautiously they crept on. The trail still held good. At last they reached the head of the glen where a spring showed the source of the brook.

"What next?" whispered Jimsy.

"Let's see if we can find which way that fellow went. The ground is spongy all around here and—ah! this way! See it?"

Jimsy nodded. They struck off to the right, clambering over rocks till they reached the summit of a small hill. A tall dead tree stood there and Jimsy volunteered to climb it in order to spy out the surrounding country for traces of the gipsys. But on his return to the ground he was compelled to admit that they had gained nothing.

"I thought I might see some smoke that would give me a clew to their whereabouts," he explained.

"Not much chance of their being as foolish as that. I guess they know searching parties are out all over by this time, and they are too foxy to light fires."

"I might have thought of that," admitted Jimsy; "it would be about the last thing they would do. What will we do now?"

"I hardly know. Hello! there's an odd-looking place. Right over there. See that deep canon? That one with the fallen tree across it?"

"Yes, I do now. Let's look over there."

"All right. You're on."

The two boys struck off in the direction of Roy's discovery. It was indeed an odd freak of nature. Some convulsion of the earth had detached quite a section of land from the surrounding country. It was, in fact, an island in the midst of the woods with only the fallen tree for a bridge.

"Let's cross it and examine the place," suggested Roy, with all a boy's curiosity.

Together they crossed the old tree, which had evidently fallen there by accident, although, in reality, it formed a perfect bridge. The "island" was thickly wooded and they pushed forward across it, not without some difficulty.

Suddenly they came upon a sight that made them halt dead in their tracks.

A man holding a rifle was sitting on a fallen log. The instant he saw them he raised his weapon.

"Don't come no further," he said.

"Why not?" demanded Roy indignantly.

"See that sign?" said the man.

He pointed to a rudely painted sign on a tree at his back.

"Dangir. No Trespasin."

That was what it said in bold letters that sprawled across its surface in an untidy fashion. The execution of the thing was as bad as its spelling.

"I guess a pretty sick man painted that sign," grinned Jimsy.

"What do you mean?" was the surly reply.

"Why, I should judge he was having an awful bad spell at the time," was the boy's rejoinder.

The man scowled at him fiercely.

"No joking round here," he growled; "now, then, if you know what's good for you you two kids will vamoose."

"What's the danger if we keep on?" asked Roy.

"Why, they're trying a new kind of explosive back there. It might go off the wrong way, your way, for instance, and hurt you," was the reply.

"Seems a funny sort of place to try out explosives," said Roy.

"Seems a queer sort of place for you two kids to come. Who are you, anyhow?"

"Oh, we are camping down below and we just came out for a stroll."

"Well, stroll some other place, then. Git away from round here."

"We certainly will," flashed back Roy; "come on, Jimsy."

As there seemed nothing else to do Jimsy agreed. They turned away and began retracing their steps, no wiser as to the whereabouts of the man with the broken boot than they had been when they set out.

Just as they turned to go, however, another man came out of the woods behind the man with the rifle. When he saw the boys he gave an abrupt start.

"Where did those boys come from?" he demanded.

"I don't know. Said they was two kids out campin' and takin' a stroll."

"Taking a stroll, eh?" said the other ferociously; "they were taking a stroll looking for that Wren."

"How do you know?"

"Because they are the same two kids who stole her from us just as we were going to demand a ransom for her."

"That was before I joined the band. No wonder I didn't know them; if I had——"

He scowled vindictively.

"Well, we can't let 'em get away. Here, give me that rifle," demanded the newcomer.

The other handed it to him. The next instant a report rang out and a bullet whizzed over the boys' heads.

"Come back here," shouted the man who had fired the shot; "I want to see you."

The boys hesitated for a minute.

"The next shot 'ull come lower if you don't," warned the man; "come on, no nonsense."

As there seemed to be nothing else to do the boys obeyed. As they drew closer they recognized the fellow.

"Oh, you know me, eh?" he snarled; "well, you'll know me better before we get through. Follow me, now. Pedro, you take the rifle and fall in behind. If they try to escape shoot them down."

Here was a fine situation. They had found the gipsies' camp with a vengeance, but for all the good it was going to do The Wren, unless they could get her away, they might as well not have come. These gloomy reflections sifted through their minds as they paced along, the man with the rifle occasionally prodding them with it just to make them "step lively," as he phrased it.

At length they came to a sort of large open place shaped like a basin, and placed in the middle of this natural island. In this basin were set up several squalid tents, about which the gipsies were squatting.

They set up a yell of surprise as the two boys were brought in.

"Where under the sun did you find them, Beppo?" exclaimed the same woman who had so cruelly ill-treated The Wren the time the boys rescued her.

"Oh, they were just taking a stroll, and happened to stroll in here," said Beppo viciously.

"I guess they won't have a chance to bother us again. They're going to make quite a stay here."

The gipsies set up a taunting laugh. Suddenly, from one of the tents, a tiny figure darted.

"Oh, I knew you'd come! I knew you'd come," it cried.

It was the poor little Wren. She had been stripped of her nice clothes and put into some filthy rags, her face was stained with crying and there was a bruise on her forehead.

With a curse Beppo seized the child by one arm, swung her round and dealt her a savage box on the ear.

"Get back where you belong!" he roared.

The next instant Beppo had measured his length on the ground and beneath one of his eyes a beautiful plum-colored swelling was developing. As has been said, Roy could hit a powerful blow.



CHAPTER XXVII.

DELIVERANCE.

The next minute all was wild confusion. The boys found themselves on the ground, being scratched and bitten and kicked by men and women alike. They did not have a chance against this horde of half savage wanderers. At length beaten and bruised they were tied with ropes and thrown into one of the tents and a man set to guard it.

All day they lay there without anything to eat or drink and no one to come near them except that occasionally a tangled head would be thrust in to hurl some taunt at them.

Darkness fell and they still lay there, suffering terrible pain from their wounds and bonds.

"This is the uttermost limit," declared Roy, in a low tone; "we're in the worst fix we ever got into this time."

"We certainly are. What a bit of bad luck that the rascal Beppo came up when he did! That other gipsy had no idea who we were."

"Well, I had the satisfaction of giving Master Beppo a good black eye," muttered Roy.

"Yes; that was a peach. It did me good to see it land."

"It landed all right. Ouch, my back feels as if it was broken."

"My wrists and ankles are awfully sore. I wonder if they mean to let us loose or give us anything to eat."

"Well, we won't last long at this rate. I guess they mean to be as cruel as they can to us in return for that punch I gave Beppo."

"I wouldn't have spoken to you again if you hadn't."

"I don't blame you."

It grew dark. Outside they heard the murmur of voices for a time and then all became quiet. Just before silence fell and snores became audible they heard the man on duty as their guard call for some coffee to keep by his side during the night.

"I'll send that brat of a Wren to you with it directly," they heard Beppo's wife reply; "the little beast, it'll do her good to work."

Then came the sound of a slap and a sob.

The boys' blood boiled.

"Oh, what wouldn't I give to have Master Beppo in a twenty-four-foot ring," breathed Roy.

"I think he'd look well decorating a tree," grated out Jimsy viciously.

The night wore on, but the boys did not sleep. Their tight bonds and worry over their situation prevented this.

All at once Roy's attention was attracted by somebody raising the flap at the back of the tent. Next something crawled in. At first he thought it was a large dog.

But then came a whisper:

"It's me, Wren."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hush, I've come to get you free. You'll take me with you, won't you?"

"Of course; what a question to ask! But how can you free us?"

"I've got a knife here. I'll cut those ropes in a minute."

"But the guard outside?"

"I've fixed him. Was it very wrong of me? While Mother Beppo wasn't looking I put some of the stuff in that coffee I brought him."



"Well, upon my word, Wren! What sort of stuff?" gasped Jimsy.

"Oh, some sort of brown stuff. I've seen Mother Beppo smoke it. It makes her oh so sleepy. So I gave some to him and he's sound asleep now."

"Must have been opium," declared Roy. "Wren, do you know that you are a very bad young lady?"

"I'd do anything for you. You're so good and kind to me," said the child, as she rapidly cut the ropes.

For a time the boys, after being freed, just lay there, unable to move. But after a while circulation set in and they began to move their limbs. In half an hour the trio crept out of the tent and, crossing the "island," traversed the trunk bridge.

"Wait a minute," said Roy, when they reached the other side.

"What are you going to do?"

"Make that whole outfit prisoners till the officers of the law can get up here."

He took a broken branch as a lever and with Jimsy's assistance toppled the log down into the canon.

"Now I guess they'll stay put for a while," he said.

And they did. That was why, when a posse came up to capture the band, they carried materials for building a bridge across the canon. It may as well be said here that the band received heavy sentences, it being proved at their trial that they had made a practice of kidnapping children and then trying to collect ransoms for them.

There was a happy scene next day at the Parker home when Mrs. Harvey, a sweet-faced woman of middle age, arrived. After one look at Wren she swayed and then, recovering herself, called out in the voice that only a mother knows:

"Sylvia!"

"Mother!" screamed the child, and rushed into her open arms.

The tide of memory, driven to low ebb by ill-treatment and hardship, had rushed back with full force. The Wren, the gipsy waif, was once more Sylvia Harvey. A doctor said later that such cases were frequent following a severe shock. It was then that they recalled how the child had almost recollected some of her past life during the thunderstorm.

The happiness of little Wren and her mother in their reunion was shared by all of the party who had been instrumental in effecting it, for every one of them, including Jake, had become attached to the quiet little girl and rejoiced in her good fortune.

When Mrs. Harvey and Sylvia departed for the railway station the following day behind a pair of Mr. Parker's steady horses they were accompanied by the four aeroplanes, which hovered over them like so many sturdy guardian angels.

And when the train bore them away they watched the returning aerial escort until there was nothing visible but four tiny dots against the blue heaven.

"Oh, mother," exclaimed Wren, "they look no bigger than butterflies now!"

And the Girl Aviators, flying every moment higher and farther on the powerful wings of the Golden Butterfly and the delicate plane of the dainty Dart, looked back at the train crawling like a humble insect in the valley below and gloried in their untrammeled flight. As they followed Roy and Jimsy in an irregular procession through the air, their thoughts flew ahead, outdistancing the biplane and the Red Dragon and speeding confidently toward the happy realizations of the future.

Miss Prescott, watching from the home of Mr. Parker for their return, also dreamed dreams and saw visions, and in them her "dear children" were fulfilling the bright prophecies of the present. She saw them stronger because of adversity, braver because of success, and ennobled by all their experiences; and she deemed herself happy in her capacity of chaperon to the Girl Aviators.

The End.



* * * * *

THE VICTORY BOY SCOUTS

BY CAPTAIN ALAN DOUGLAS

SCOUTMASTER

Stories from the pen of a writer who possesses a thorough knowledge of his subject. In addition to the stories there is an addenda in which useful boy scout nature lore is given, all illustrated. There are the following twelve titles in the series:

1. The Campfires of the Wolf Patrol.

2. Woodcraft; or, How a Patrol Leader Made Good.

3. Pathfinder; or, the Missing Tenderfoot.

4. Great Hike; or, the Pride of Khaki Troop.

5. Endurance Test; or, How Clear Grit Won the Day.

6. Under Canvas; or, the Search for the Carteret Ghost.

7. Storm-bound; or, a Vacation Among the Snow-Drifts.

8. Afloat; or, Adventures on Watery Trails.

9. Tenderfoot Squad; or, Camping at Raccoon Lodge.

10. _Boy Scout Electricans; or, the Hidden Dynamo-.

11. _Boy Scouts in Open Plains; or, the Round-up not Ordered-.

12. Boy Scouts in an Airplane; or, the Warning from the Sky.

* * * * *

Radio Boys Series

1. Radio Boys in the Secret Service; or, Cast Away on an Iceberg—FRANK HONEYWELL

2. Radio Boys on the Thousand Islands; or, The Yankee Canadian Wireless Trail—FRANK HONEYWELL

3. Radio Boys in the Flying Service; or, Held for Ransom by Mexican Bandits—J.W. DUFFIELD

4. Radio Boys Under the Sea; or, The Hunt for the Sunken Treasure—J.W. DUFFIELD

5. Radio Boys Cronies; or, Bill Brown's Radio—WAYNE WHIPPLE

6. Radio Boys Loyalty; or, Bill Brown Listens In—WAYNE WHIPPLE

* * * * *

Peggy Parson's Series

By ANNABEL SHARP

A popular and charming series of Girl's books dealing in an interesting and fascinating manner with the life and adventures of Girlhood so dear to all Girls from eight to fourteen years of age. Printed from large clear type on superior quality paper, multicolor jacket. Bound in cloth.

1. Peggy Parson Hampton Freshman

2. Peggy Parson at Prep School

* * * * *

The Aeroplane Series

By JOHN LUTHER LANGWORTHY

1. The Aeroplane Boys; or, The Young Pilots First Air Voyage

2. The Aeroplane Boys on the Wing; or, Aeroplane Chums in the Tropics

3. The Aeroplane Boys Among the Clouds; or, Young Aviators in a Wreck

4. The Aeroplane Boys' Flights; or, A Hydroplane Round-up

5. The Aeroplane Boys on a Cattle Ranch

* * * * *

The Girl Aviator Series

By MARGARET BURNHAM

Just the type of books that delight and fascinate the wide awake Girls of the present day who are between the ages of eight and fourteen years. The great author of these books regards them as the best products of her pen. Printed from large clear type on a superior quality of paper; attractive multi-color jacket wrapper around each book. Bound in cloth.

1. The Girl Aviators and the Phantom Airship

2. The Girl Aviators on Golden Wings

3. The Girl Aviators' Sky Cruise

4. The Girl Aviators' Motor Butterfly.

* * * * *

Phil Bradley Mountain Boy's Series

By SILAS R. BOONE

These books describe with interesting detail the experience of a party of boys among the mountain pines. They teach the young reader how to protect themselves against the elements, what to do and what to avoid, and above all to become self-reliant and manly. There are five titles:

1. Phil Bradley's Mountain Boys; or, The Birch Bark Lodge.

2. Phil Bradley at the Wheel; or, The Mountain Boys' Mad Auto Dash.

3. Phil Bradley's Shooting Box; or, The Mountain Boys on Currituck Sound.

4. Phil Bradley's Snow-shoe Trail; or, The Mountain Boys in the Canadian Wilds.

5. Phil Bradley's Winning Way.

* * * * *

The American Boy's Sports Series

BY MARK OVERTON

These stories touch upon nearly every sport in which the active boy is interested. Baseball, rowing, football, hockey, skating, ice-boating, sailing, camping and fishing all serve to lend interest to an unusual series of books. There are the following four titles:

1. Jack Winters' Baseball Team; or, The Mystery of the Diamond.

2. Jack Winters' Campmates; or, Vacation Days in the Woods.

3. Jack Winters' Gridiron Chums; or, When the Half-back Saved the Day.

4. Jack Winters' Iceboat Wonder; or, Leading the Hockey Team to Victory.

* * * * *

Motor Boat Boys Series

By LOUIS ARUNDEL

1. The Motor Club's Cruise Down the Mississippi; or The Dash for Dixie.

2. The Motor Club on the St. Lawrence River; or Adventures Among the Thousand Islands.

3. The Motor Club on the Great Lakes; or Exploring the Mystic Isle of Mackinac.

4. Motor Boat Boys Among the Florida Keys; or The Struggle for the Leadership.

5. Motor Boat Boys Down the Coast; or Through Storm and Stress.

6. Motor Boat Boys River Chase; or Six Chums Afloat or Ashore.

7. Motor Boat Boys Down the Danube; or Four Chums Abroad

* * * * *

Motor Maid Series

By KATHERINE STOKES

1. Motor Maids' School Days

2. Motor Maids by Palm and Pine

3. Motor Maids Across the Continent

4. Motor Maids by Rose, Shamrock and Thistle.

5. Motor Maids in Fair Japan 6. Motor Maids at Sunrise Camp

* * * * *

THE "HOW-TO-DO-IT" BOOKS By J.S. ZERBE

Carpentry for Boys

A book which treats, in a most practical and fascinating manner all subjects pertaining to the "King of Trades"; showing the care and use of tools; drawing; designing, and the laying out of work; the principles involved in the building of various kinds of structures, and the rudiments of architecture. It contains over two hundred and fifty illustrations made especially for this work, and includes also a complete glossary of the technical terms used in the art. The most comprehensive volume on this subject ever published for boys.

Electricity for Boys

The author has adopted the unique plan of setting forth the fundamental principles in each phase of the science, and practically applying the work in the successive stages. It shows how the knowledge has been developed, and the reasons for the various phenomena, without using technical words so as to bring it within the compass of every boy. It has a complete glossary of terms, and is illustrated with two hundred original drawings.

Practical Mechanics for Boys

This book takes the beginner through a comprehensive series of practical shop work, in which the uses of tools, and the structure and handling of shop machinery are set forth; how they are utilized to perform the work, and the manner in which all dimensional work is carried out. Every subject is illustrated, and model building explained. It contains a glossary which comprises a new system of cross references, a feature that will prove a welcome departure in explaining subjects. Fully illustrated.

THE END