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.

[Illustration:  “Take me back to earth er I’ll shoot,” said a voice in his ear.]

“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.