Before the boy could get out of its path “Biff!” the impact had come.  Jimsy arose into the atmosphere and described a distinct parabola.  He landed with a bump in a clump of bushes, while Mr. Ram rushed off down the road to join his flock.

“Haw! haw! haw!” roared the sheep man; “ain’t hurt, be you?”

“No; but I’ve a good mind to sue you for damages,” rejoined Jimsy, picking himself out of the clump of brush; “you’ve no right to drive an animal like that around the country without labeling him ’Dynamite.  Dangerous’.”

“Guess I will, too,” said the man, who appeared to think well of the suggestion; “he sure will get me in a pile of trouble one of these days.”

He raised his hat and strode off, followed by the boy.  In the distance the ram was capering about among the other sheep.  Jimsy brushed the dust off himself and then looked about him.

“Anybody laughing?” he demanded suspiciously.

They all shook their heads, the girls biting their lips to avoid smiling.

“All right then, I suggest that we get out of here right away; a tiger’s liable to come striding out of those woods next.”

“Yes; we’d better be getting along; Millbrook, our next stop, is several miles off,” said Peggy, consulting the map.

No further time was lost in resuming their rapid flight.  In the distance, as the flock of aeroplanes arose, the sheep man waved his hat and shouted his adieus.

Millbrook was reached that evening just at dusk.  It proved to be a fair-sized town, and the aeroplanes excited as much curiosity there as they had in Meadville—­more so, in fact, for, from some flaring posters, it appeared that an aeroplane exhibition and race had been arranged for the next day by a traveling company of aviators.  That evening, at the hotel, a deputation of citizens waited on the boys and asked them if they would not prolong their stay and take part in the air sports.  The mayor, whose name was Jasper Hanks, mentioned a prize of five hundred dollars for an endurance flight as a special inducement.

The lads said they would think things over and report in the morning.  Their real object in delaying their decision was, of course, to consult the girls about appearing.  Peggy, Jess and Bess went into raptures over the idea, and Miss Prescott’s consent was readily obtained.

“I’ll be glad to rest for a day after all our exciting times,” she declared, “and I mean to add to Wren’s outfit too.”

“Oh, how good you are to me,” sighed the odd little figure, nestling close to her benefactress.

“Tush! tush, my dear!  I’m going to make a wonderful girl out of you,” beamed the kindly lady.

Descending to the office to buy some postcards, the boys found, lounging about the desk, a stoutish man with a rather dissipated face, puffy under the eyes and heavy about the jaws.  A bright red necktie and patent-leather boots with cloth tops accentuated the decidedly “noisy” impression he conveyed.