of the incident of hiring the new cook. "Well," he went on to Mr. Damon, "are you all ready?"
"As ready as I ever shall be. Do you think we'll have to do any vol-planing, Tom?"
"Hard to say, but it's not dangerous when there's no wind. All right, Garret. Start her off."
The engineer whirled the big wooden, built-up propeller, and with a rattle and roar of the motor, effectually drowning any but the loudest shouts, the Butterfly was ready for her flight. Tom let the engine warm up a bit before calling to his friends to let go, and then, when he had thrown the gasolene lever forward, he shouted a good-by and cried:
"All right! Let go!"
Forward, like a hound from the leash, sprang the little monoplane. It ran perhaps for five hundred feet, and then, with a tilting of the wings, to set the air currents against them, it sprang into the air.
"We're off!" cried Mr. Damon, waving his hand to those on the ground below.
"Yes, we're off," murmured Tom. "Now for the Quaker City!"
He had mapped out a route for himself the night before, and now, picking out the land-
