CHAPTER VII.

A STOP FOR THE NIGHT.

It was some two hours later that Meadville received the greatest excitement of its career.  People rushed out of stores and houses as the “flock” of aeroplanes came into sight.

As they gazed down the young aviators felt a momentary regret that they had chosen a town in which to pass the first night of their motor flight.  It appeared that they would get into difficulties when they attempted to make a landing.

But almost simultaneously they spied a public park, which appeared to offer a favorable landing place.  As soon as their intention of descending there became manifest, however, the crowd made a headlong rush for the spot.

It was too late to seek some other location to alight even had there been one available.  Trusting to luck that the eager spectators would get out of their way the four aeroplanes began their spiraling descent.

Roy was first in his big biplane.  As the ponderous, white machine ranged down close to the park the crowd became well-nigh uncontrollable.  They swarmed beneath the big machine, despite Roy’s shouts of warning.

Skillfully as the boy manipulated the aircraft he could not check its descent once begun.

“Out of the way!  I don’t want to hurt you!” he shouted, as he dashed down.

But the crowd, sheeplike in their stupidity, refused to budge.  Into the midst of them Roy, perforce, was compelled to drive.  Once the throng perceived his intention, however, they scattered wildly.  That is, all sought positions of safety but one man, a stout, red-faced individual, who appeared dazed or befuddled.

He stood his ground, glaring foolishly at the sky ship.  With a quick turn of his wrist Roy swept the big biplane aside, but a wing tip brushed the stout man, toppling him over in a twinkling.  By the time Roy had stopped his machine the man was on his feet again, bellowing furiously.  He was not hurt, but his face was contorted with anger.

He pushed his way through the crowd toward the young aviator.

“You young scoundrel!” he yelled, “I’ll fix you for that!  I’ll—­” “Look out, here come the rest of them!” shouted the crowd at this juncture.

Nobody needed any warning this time.  They fled in all directions as one after the other the Golden Butterfly, the Red Dragon and the pretty, graceful Dart dropped to earth.

“Wa’al, look at them gals, will yer!” shouted a voice in the crowd.

“What’s the country coming to?” demanded another man.  “Gals gallivanting around like gol-dinged birds!”

But the majority of the crowd took the pretty girl aviators to its heart.  Somebody set up a cheer.

It was still ringing out when, to the huge relief of the embarrassed girls, the auto came rolling up with Miss Prescott and “The Wren,” as they still called the latter.