“They are actually selling stock?” asked Peggy, growing a bit pale.

“Yes.  They have half-page advertisements in a lot of papers, I believe.  Dad said so.  But why do you look so distressed, Peggy?”

“Because they must be very sure of the merits of their machines, if they are going ahead so confidently.”

“Rumor has it that their make of aeroplane is the most up-to-date and complete yet constructed, but nobody knows the details so far.  They have kept that part of it close.”

“They are making a bid for the navy contracts, at any rate,” said Peggy presently, after a pause, during which both girls winked and blinked at the lightning and stared at the red glow of the fire.

“So you said.  But you stole a march on them by kidnapping your lieutenant in this way.”

“You ought to give the weather credit for that,” laughed Peggy, “but seriously, Jess, there is no sentiment in things of this kind.  If the Mortlake machine is a better machine than ours, the Mortlake will be the type adopted by the government.”

“I suppose that’s so,” agreed Jess, with a wry face.  “But I hate to think of that old Harding creature getting any——­”

The door flew open suddenly, and a tall, thin-faced woman in a raincoat, and holding up an umbrella, stood in the doorway.

“Well, for the land’s sake!” she ejaculated, looking fairly dumfounded, as she comprehended the scene and the young folks enjoying the unrequested hospitality of her kitchen.

But the words had hardly left her lips, and she was still standing there, like an image carved from stone, when a fearful light illumined the whole scene.  It was followed almost instantaneously by a clap of thunder so deafening that the girls involuntarily quailed before it.

A fiery ball darted from the chimney and sped across the room, exploding in fragments with a terrific noise on the opposite side, just above the heads of Jimsy and Lieut.  Bradbury.

Stunned by the shock, they both collapsed in heaps on the floor, while the farm woman’s shrieks filled the air.  At the same instant, a pungent, sinister odor filled the atmosphere.

“The house is on fire!” shrieked the woman in a frenzied voice.

Smoke rolled down into the room, and the acrid fumes grew sharper.

“The house is on fire, and my baby is up-stairs!”

“Where?” demanded Peggy.

“In the room above this!” groaned the woman, taking a few steps and then fainting.

“Jess,” cried Peggy in a tense voice, “take that bucket and get water from that pump in the corner and then follow me.”

“But the boys!” gasped Jess.

“They are only stunned.  I saw Jimsy’s arm move just now, and the lieutenant is breathing.”

With these words, she started from the room, darting up a narrow stairway leading from one end of the kitchen to the upper regions.

“What are you going to do?” shouted Jess, her voice shaky with alarm.