It was the first sign he had shown of giving way.  But Peggy was at his side in an instant.

“No, we won’t, Roy,” she exclaimed, her eyes brilliant with excitement, “I’ve asked Lieutenant Bradbury, and he says it’s unusual, but he doesn’t see why a woman should be barred from flying in the contests.  There’s nothing in the rules about it, anyway.”

“Oh, Peg—­gy!” gasped Jess, “you would——­”

“Do anything within reason to balk that Mortlake crowd in their trickery and deceit,” declared Peggy, with flashing eyes.

“And we’ll stand by you,” announced Jimsy, stepping forward; “we’ll go with you to Hampton, and we’ll bring home the bacon!”

The inexcusable slang went unreproved.  Jimsy’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“Thank you, Jimsy,” said Peggy, winking to keep back the tears that would come, “we—­we—­I—­that—­is——­”

“We’ll beat them out yet.  The bunch of sneaks, and it’s my opinion that Mortlake himself knows all about who robbed that safe!” cried Jimsy, not taking the trouble to sink his voice.

He faced defiantly about and caught Mortlake’s eye.  It was instantly averted, and catching Fanning by the arm he hastened from the courtroom.

“I wonder what mischief those young cubs are hatching up now?” he said, as the two hastened off, bending their steps toward old Mr. Harding’s bank.

“It doesn’t make much difference,” chuckled Fanning, “we’ve got that contract nailed down and delivered now.”

CHAPTER XIX.

THE GATHERING OF THE MAN-BIRDS.

The aeroplanes—­a dozen in all, that had been selected by various naval “sharps” from all over the widely distributed portions of the country for the weeding out of the best type—­were quartered in a broad meadow not far from the town of Hampton.  The locality had been chosen as removed from the reach of the ordinary run of curiosity seekers, who had flocked from all parts of the country to be present at the first tests of aeroplanes as actual naval adjuncts.

Sheds had been provided for the accommodation of each type.  And above each shed was the name of the aeroplane it housed, printed in small letters.  One of the first things that Mortlake and Fanning Harding proceeded to do on their arrival at this “bivouac” was to make a tour of the row of sheds in search of the Prescott machine.  But to their joy, apparently, no shed housed it.

There were machines of dozens of other types, monoplanes, bi-planes, machines of the helicopter type, and a few devices based on the parachute principle.  But no Prescott.  The names the various machines bore were weird:  The Sky Pilot, the Cloud Chaser, the Star Bug, the Moon Mounter, the Aerial Auto, the Heavenly Harvester, and some titles even more far-fetched graced the sheds, so that it was small wonder that in this maze of high-sounding names a shed at the far end of the row bearing the obscure title of Nameless missed the scrutiny of Mortlake and his aide.