“Why not?” Teddy asked as he let his propeller slowly unwind. He wanted to take the tension off the rubber bands in order to insert a new one. Dick did not answer his chum. But he looked up long enough to say: “Here comes Joe!” “Good!” exclaimed Teddy. “Now we can have the race. Hurry, Joe!” he shouted. “The wind’s just right and it’s getting stronger. Hurry!” “Coming!” answered Joe Denton. The three chums were soon busy making final adjustments to their toy planes in the yard of Teddy Benson’s home. Most of the activities of the three centered around Teddy’s home. He was the leader of his crowd, always the first to propose something new. He had done it when he suggested they have a race of their model planes. The boys had been making model planes for some time. At first they made only small ones, which were launched by being tossed into the air. These planes went only a short distance. The next planes the boys made had rubber bands for motors. At first, they attached only a few, small rubbers to the propeller of their craft. These bands, when twisted, would unravel, whirl the propeller and send the planes flying. Step by step the three chums had advanced until they now had planes with quite powerful rubber “motors,” if such they could be called. The “motors” of course, were just rubber bands or cords. “Some day,” Teddy had declared, “we’ll get real miniature gasoline motors for our planes. Then they’ll fly miles and miles before they come down.” “And we’ll have to walk after ’em to bring ’em back,” sighed Dick. He was too stout to care for much walking. “Golly, it would be fun to have a gas motor model plane,” remarked Joe Denton as he put the final touches on his rubber-motored one. “They have some dandy ones in the Johnson cup races,” he added. “Yes, and they have good prizes for rubber-motored planes,” announced Teddy. “Well, if you fellows are ready, let’s go to Mason’s meadow and see whose plane can fly farthest.” “I guess you think yours can,” laughed Dick. “Well, I’m not saying anything,” Teddy modestly remarked. “No, but you’re doing a lot of thinking,” said Joe. “I know my plane won’t win,” he sighed. “There’s something wrong with it, I guess.” “Maybe we can find out what it is in this race,” Teddy suggested, “and fix it.” “Maybe,” agreed Joe, ruffling his red hair. As the three chums started from Teddy’s yard, carefully carrying their model planes, Lucy Benson came to the kitchen door. “Where are you going?” she asked. “May I come?” “No, you can’t,” Teddy answered. “Sorry,” he added as he saw the look of disappointment on his sister’s face. “But we’re going to fly our planes and we don’t want any girls.” “One of our planes might get tangled in your hair,” said Dick. “Oh, is that so?” snapped Lucy. “And one of ’em might get lost, too! Then maybe you’ll be glad to have me help hunt it like I did the time Teddy’s plane was lost before. I found it then.”