“At any rate the fall was a lucky one in a way!” gasped the optimistic Peggy, as soon as she caught her breath, “it put out the fire.”

And so it had.  Not only that, but the aeroplane, buoyed up by its broad wings, was still floating.  On board the Red Dragon was a long bit of rope.  Jimsy produced this and then swam out to the drifting Butterfly.  The rope was made fast to it and the craft dragged ashore.  But when they got it to the bank the problem arose as to how they were going to drag it up the steep acclivity.

Again and again they tried; Bess, who had by this time alighted, aiding them.  But it was all to no purpose.  Even their united strength failed to move the heavy apparatus.

“I’ve got an idea!” shouted Jimsy suddenly, during a pause in their laborious operations.

“Good!  Don’t let it get away, I beg of you!” implored Peggy.

“Oh, Peg!  Don’t tease, besides, you don’t look a bit cute with your hair all wet and draggled, and as for your dress—­goodness!”

This came from Jess, herself sadly “rumpled” and in addition wet through.  Before Peggy could reply to her chum’s half rallying remark Jimsy, unabashed, continued: 

“We’ll hitch this rope to the Red Dragon and then start her up for all she’s worth.”

“Jimsy, you’re a genius!”

“A modern marvel!”

“A solid promontory of pure gray matter!”

In turn the remarks came from each of the party.  But Jimsy, bothering not at all at the laughing encomiums, proceeded to secure the rope to the Red Dragon.  This done, he started up the engine and clambered into his seat.

“All ashore that’s going ashore!” he yelled, in mocking imitation of the stewards of an ocean liner.

There wasn’t an instant’s hesitation as he threw the load upon the engine.  Then the rope tautened.  It grew tight as a fiddle string.

“Goodness!  It’ll snap and the Dragon will be broken!” cried Jess, in alarm.

But no such thing happened.  Instead, as the Dragon’s powerful propeller blades “bit” into the air, the Golden Butterfly obediently mounted the steep bank of the pond.  Five minutes later the pretty craft stood on dry land and the party of young aviators were eagerly making an investigation of the damage done.

The cause of the fire was soon found.  A tiny leak in the tank had allowed some gasoline to drip into the bottom of the chassis, or passenger carrier.  Collecting here, it was plain that a back fire from the carburetor had ignited it.

Neither of the girls could repress a shudder as they thought of what might have occurred had they been higher in the air and no convenient pond handy for them to drop into.  In such a case the flames might have reached the gasoline tank before they could be extinguished and inevitably a fearful explosion would have followed.

“I think you are the two luckiest girls in the world,” declared Roy solemnly, as he concluded his examination and announced his conclusions.  Naturally they fully agreed with him.