DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDROPLANE

or Daring Adventures Over the Great Lakes

by Roy Rockwood

CHAPTER I

THE YOUNG AVIATOR

"Telegram, sir."

"Who for?"

"Dave Dashaway."

"I'll take it."

The messenger boy who had just entered the hangar of the great prize
monoplane of the aero meet at Columbus, stared wonderingly about him
while the man in charge of the place receipted for the telegram.

The lad had never been in so queer a place before. He was a lively,
active city boy, but the closest he had ever seen an airship was a
distance away and five hundred feet up in the air. Now, with big
wonder eyes he stared at the strange appearing machine. His fingers
moved restlessly, like a street-urchin surveying an automobile and
longing to blow its horn.

The man in charge of the place attracted his attention, too. He had
only one arm and limped when he walked. His face was scarred and he
looked like a war veteran. The only battles this old warrior had
been in, however, were fights with the elements. He was a famous
"wind wagon" man who had sustained a terrible fall in an endurance
race. It had crippled him for life. Now he followed the various
professional meets for a living, and also ran an aviation school for
amateurs. His name was John Grimshaw.

The messenger boy took a last look about the place and left. The
old man put on a cap, went to the door and rather gruesomely faced
the elements.

"A cold drizzling rain and gusty weather generally," he said to
himself in a grumbling tone. "I'll face it any time for Dashaway,
though. The telegram may be important."

The big aero field looked lonely and gloomy as the man crossed it.
Lights showed here and there in the various buildings scattered
about the enclosure. The ground was wet and soft. The rain came in
chilling dashes. Old Grimshaw breasted the storm, and after half a
mile's walk came to a hangar a good deal like the one he had left.
There was a light inside.

"Hello, there!" he sang out in his big foghorn voice, thrusting the
door open with his foot and getting under the shelter, and shaking
the rain from his head and shoulders.

Two boys were the occupants of the place. They had a lamp on the
table, upon which was outspread pictures and plans of airships. The
older of the two got up from his chair with a pleasant smiling face.

"Why, it's Mr. Grimshaw!" he exclaimed.

"That's who it is," joined in the other boy cheerily. "Say, you're
welcome, too. We were looking over some sketches of new machines,
and you can tell us lots about them, you know."

"Got to get back to my own quarters," declared Grimshaw. "Some
other time about those pictures. Boy brought a telegram to Mr.
King's hangar. It's for you, Dashaway."

"For me?" inquired the lad who had first addressed the visitor.

"Yes. Here it is. Mr. King's away, but if you need me for anything
let me know."

"I'm always needing you," replied Dave Dashaway. "I don't know what
we'd do without you."

The young aviator--for such he was in fact and reality--took the
proffered envelope. He tore open its end and read the enclosure
rapidly.

"Why," he said, "this is strange."

"Any answer? Need me?" asked Grimshaw, moving towards the door.

"No, thank you," replied Dave in a vague, bothered way that made his
companion and chum, Hiram Dobbs, study his face with some
perplexity.

"I'd better get back home, then," said the old man. "Fine weather
for hydroplanes this, eh?"

Both Dave and Hiram proceeded to the door with the grim old fellow
who had so kindly taught them all they knew about aeronautics. When
their visitor had departed, Dave went back to the table. He sat
down and perused the telegram once more. Then he sat looking
fixedly at it, as if he was studying some hard problem. Hiram stood
it as long as he could. Then he burst out impetuously:

"What is it, Dave?"

"I'm trying to find out," was the abstracted reply.

"Who is it from?"

"The Interstate Aeroplane Co."

That name meant a good deal to Hiram Dobbs, and a great deal more to
Dave Dashaway. It marked the starting point in the aviation career
of the latter, and that in its turn had meant a first step up the
ladder for his faithful comrade, Hiram.

In the first volume of this series, entitled:

"Dave Dashaway, the Young Aviator; Or, In the Clouds for Fame and
Fortune," the career of Dave Dashaway has been told. The father of
the young airman had been a noted balloonist, and when he died a
mean old skinflint named Silas Warner had been appointed Dave's
guardian. Warner had acted the tyrant and hard taskmaster for the
youth. A natural love for aeronautics had been born in Dave. He
had made an airship model which his guardian had maliciously
destroyed. Warner had also appropriated a package dropped
accidentally by a famous aviator, named Robert King, from a
monoplane.

Dave had found this package, containing money, a watch and a medal
greatly prized by Mr. King. Dave resolved that this property should
be restored to the airman. He got hold of the lost articles, which
his guardian had secreted, and ran away from home.

After various adventures, during which he was robbed of the airman's
property, Dave managed to reach the aero meet at Fairfield. He
found Robert King and described to him the boy thief. The airman
took a fancy to Dave from the nerve and ability he showed in
experimenting with a parachute garment, and hired him.

About the same time Hiram Dobbs came along, ambitious to change his
farm life for an aviation career, and secured work helping about the
grounds. Mr. King sent Dave to Grimshaw for training. The
Interstate Aeroplane Co. wanted to exhibit its Baby Racer, a novel
biplane. Dave made a successful demonstration, and won the
admiration and good will of the company.

In a few weeks time Dave scored a big success and won several
trophies. His final exploit was taking the place of an aviator who
had fainted away in his monoplane, and winning the race for Mr.
King's machine. Dave was now the proud possessor of a pilot's
license, and had fairly entered the professional field.

The thief who had stolen Mr. King's property from Dave, a graceless
youth named Gregg, was found, and the property recovered. He had
also got hold of some papers that belonged to Dave's father. Gregg
through these had obtained a trace of a Mr. Dale, a great friend of
the dead balloonist. He had made Mr. Dale believe he was the real
Dave Dashaway, until he was unmasked.

Another bad boy Dave had run across was named Jerry Dawson. From
the start in his career as an airman this youth had been an enemy.
Dave had succeeded him in the employ of Mr. King, Jerry having been
discharged in disgrace. Jerry tried to "get even," as he called it,
by trying to wreck Mr. King's monoplane, the Aegis. He also
betrayed Dave's whereabouts to his guardian. Because Dave was right
and Jerry wrong, there plots rebounded on the schemer and did Dave
no harm.

Jerry and his father were exposed. They still followed the various
meets, however, just as Mr. King and Dave and Hiram did, but they
were shunned by all reputable airmen.

After leaving the aero meet at Dayton the proud possessor of a
trophy as winner of a one hundred mile dash, Dave now found himself
and his friends on the aero, grounds at Columbus. This was a summer
resort located on Lake Michigan. A two weeks' programme had been
arranged, in which Dave was to give exhibitions for his employers of
their new model hydroplane.

Hiram was practicing for a flight in the Baby Racer. The two
friends that rainy summer evening were interested in plans for the
coming meet and aviation business generally. The arrival of the
telegram once more introduces the reader to Dave Dashaway, now
popularly known as the young aviator.

The telegram which Grimshaw had brought to Dave was dated at the
headquarters of the Interstate Aeroplane Co., some three hundred
miles distant. It was addressed to Dave in care of Mr. King, and it
was signed by the manager of the company. It read as follows:

"Our sales agent, Timmins, reported from your quarters at Columbus
three days ago. Was due at Kewaukee this morning on big contract
with County Fair Amusement Co. Wired Northern Hotel there, where we
had forwarded all the contracts and papers, and he is not there.
Find him at any expense, and get him to Kewaukee before to-morrow
morning, or the Star Aero Co. will get the order. Fear some trick.
This means ten thousand dollars to us."

Dave read and reread this message, weighing every word in his mind
as he did so. Hiram sat watching him in a fever of suspense and
anxiety. Finally he exclaimed:

"See here, Dave Dashaway, is that Greek you can't make out, or have
you gone to sleep?"

"I was only trying to figure out this telegram," replied Dave
thoughtfully. "Here, read it for yourself, and see what you make of
it."

The young aviator passed the yellow sheet over to his curious
friend. The latter scanned it rapidly. Then, with startling
suddenness, his face twitching with excitement, he jumped to his
feet.

"What do I make of it?" shouted Hiram. "Just what the telegram
says--a trick! It's come all over me in a flash. Why, Dick, I know
all about it."

CHAPTER II

The "BABY RACER"

"You know all about it?" repeated Dave Dashaway, looking up in great
surprise.

"That's what I do," declared Hiram positively.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll explain."

"I wish you would."

"I'm a blockhead, that's just what I am!" cried Hiram. "I don't
know what possessed me that I didn't tell you all about it before."

"See here, Hiram," broke in Dave, "What are you talking about?"

"Why, about Mr. Timmins. You know he here night before last and
left us then?"

"Yes, Hiram, to go to Kewaukee."

"Well, he just didn't go to Kewaukee at all."

"That's no news, for this telegram shows that couldn't have done
so."

"You see, when Mr. Timmins got telling us about the big sale he was
going to make at Kewaukee," continued Hiram, "and how the Star Aero
people were bidders for the same contract, you warned him against
the Dawsons, and the people they are working for!"

"I know I did. That was because the Dawsons are stunting for the
Star people."

"Exactly. Then when I caught Jerry Dawson and Brooks, that precious
chum of his, sneaking around the Aegis hangar, I made up my mind
that they were up to no good. I know what they were snooping around
for, now."

"What was it?"

"To pick up what information they could about Mr. Timmins' plans,
so, when Mr. Timmins went away, I was awful glad. I felt pleased,
for Mr. King told as you know that he was a free and easy fellow,
friendly to everybody, and sometimes drank more than he ought to."

"Yes, I know that, Hiram."

"Well, last night I went to town to get some supplies for Mr.
Grimshaw. There's a tavern at the cross roads, and some men were in
there. I saw them through an open window. There were six of them.
Brooks was there, and Jerry and his father, and three more of the
crowd. They were playing cards and making a great deal of noise.
Just as I looked in some one pulled down the shade. I caught a
sight of the other man, though. Right off, even at the distance I
was, it struck me he looked like Mr. Timmins. Then I remembered
that Mr. Timmins had certainly gone to Kewaukee the night before, so
I put it off my mind. Now, I see the whole trick."

"What is that?"

"The crowd kept Mr. Timmins here, delaying and entertaining him.
Maybe later some of them led him still further away from Columbus.
Their man is probably on the spot at Kewaukee now, ready to get that
big contract for show biplanes."

Dave had been anxiously walking up and down the floor while Hiram
was talking. Now he took his cap off a peg and picked up an
umbrella.

"You wait here till I come back, Hiram," he said.

"Where are you going, Dave?"

"Down to the Aegis hangar. This telegram disturbs me very much. I
have no idea where Mr. Timmins can be, and something must certainly
be done about this contract."

"That's so, Dave," agreed Hiram. "It isn't exactly our business,
but it would be a big feather in your cap to help out the people who
are hiring you."

"That's what I want to do, if I can," replied Dave, as he left the
place.

The youth went straight to the Aegis hangar, where he found Grimshaw
tinkering over a broken airplane wing. Mr. King had a desk in one
corner of what he called his office room.

Dave was free to use this at all times. He opened it now, and for
ten minutes was busy with some railroad time tables he found there.
Then he consulted an aero guide map.

Grimshaw watched him from under his shaggy eyebrows, but said
nothing until Dave got up from the desk, buttoned his coat and
prepared to face the storm again.

"What's the trouble, Dashaway?" he asked.

"Why, Mr. Grimshaw?" inquired Dave, wishing to evade direct
questioning.

"You seem bothered about something, I see."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I am," confessed Dave.

"What is it?"

"I'm trying to find a way to get to Kewaukee," explained Dave.
"Something has come up that makes me think I ought to be there in
the interests of my employers early to-morrow morning. I am figuring
out how I can make it."

"See here, Dashaway," spoke the old airman in a grim, impressive
way, "don't you do anything reckless."

"I won't," answered Dave. "You know you once said I was all
business. Well, I'll always try to do my duty without any
unnecessary risks."

Dave laughed carelessly and got away from the hangar. A daring idea
had come into his mind. Perhaps Grimshaw suspected it, and Dave was
afraid he might. The lad knew that the eccentric old fellow liked
him, and would try to dissuade him from any exploit of unusual
peril.

"I'll do it, I'll have to do it or let the company lose out,"
breathed Dave, as once outside he broke into a run across the
aviation field.

Dave found Hiram winding the alarm clock as he re-entered the half
shed, half canvas house where the Baby Racer was stored. Although
they got their meals at Mr. King's headquarters, the boys had two
light cots and slept near to the machine which Dave had been
exhibiting.

Dave glanced at the clock, and Hiram noticing the look, said:

"Eleven thirty, Dave. I've set the alarm clock for five thirty.
You know that new hydroplane will probably come in on an early
freight. What's the programme?"

"Well, Hiram," responded Dave, throwing off his coat and hat, "I'm
going to dress up for a ride."

"Eh?" ejaculated Hiram, staring hard at the set resolute face of his
comrade.

"Yes, I've got to get to Kewaukee."

"Oh, you mean going by train?"

"No. Last one left an hour ago. Next one nine o clock to-morrow
morning."

"Automobile, then?"

"On the country mud roads we've been having for the last week?"

"That's so. Then--"

"It's the airship route or nothing, Hiram," said Dave. "I'm going
in the biplane."

"The Baby Racer?"

"Yes."

"On such a night as this! Why, Dave," began Hiram, almost in alarm.

"Don't say a word," interrupted Dave with a preemptory wave of his
hand. "I've made up my mind, and that ends it."

"It usually does," said Hiram. "If you're bound to do it, though,
Dave--"

"I certainly am."

"Ask Mr. Grimshaw's advice, first."

"Not for worlds."

"Why not?"

"I think he would try to stop me. See here, Hiram, I've thought it
all over. I know it's a hard, rough night, but I also know what the
Baby Racer can do."

"It's a pretty bad night to do any fooling in the air," remarked
Hiram.

"There won't be much fooling about it, Hiram. I know the chances
and, I shan't look for any fun. It is a bad night, I know, but the
wind is right, and I can head straight into it in reaching
Kewaukee."

"How far away is Kewaukee, Dave?"

"Ninety-five miles."

Dave, while he talked, had been putting on his regular aviator's
suit. As he finished up with a helmet, he noticed Hiram changing
his coat for a sweater.

"What are you up to, Hiram," he inquired quickly.

"Getting ready, of course."

"Getting ready for what?"

"The trip to Kewaukee."

"Oh, you think you're going?"

"If you are," retorted Hiram, "I know I am. Now, see here, Dave,"
continued Hiram, waving a silencing finger as Dave was about to
speak, "I know I'm not an aviator like you, and never will be. All
the same, I am some good in an airship, if it's only to act as
ballast. The other day when I was up with you in the Racer, you.
said I shifted the elevator just in time to save a smash up. In a
storm like the one to-night, you my need me worse than ever.
Anyhow, Dave Dashaway, I won't let you go alone."

The young airman looked at his loyal, earnest friend with pleasure
and pride. Hiram was only a crude country boy. He had, however,
shown diamond in the rough, and Dave appreciated the fact.

Hiram had made several ground runs in an aeroplane. He had gone up
in the Baby Racer twice with Dave, and had proven himself a model
passenger. As he had just hinted, too, he had been familiar enough
with the mechanism of the biplane to operate some of its auxiliary
machinery so as to avert an accident.

"You are the best company in the world, Hiram," said Dave, "but I
wouldn't feel right in letting you take the risk of a hazardous
run."

"Dave, I won't let you go alone," persisted Hiram.

Dave said nothing in reply. He went outside, and Hiram followed
him. They unlocked the door of the shed adjoining where the Baby
Racer was housed, and lit two lanterns.

"Get a couple of the nearest field men, Hiram," directed Dave, "and
I will have everything in order by the time you get back."

There was not much for Dave to do. Only the noon of that day they
had got the little biplane ready for a cross country spurt. Then
the rain came on, and they decided to defer the dash till the
weather was more propitious. Dave was looking over the machinery,
when a gruff hail startled him.

"Hello!" challenged old Grimshaw, appearing at the open doorway of
the hangar. "What you up to, Dashaway?"

Dave flushed guiltily. He was dreadfully embarrassed to be "caught
in the act" as it were, by his great friend, the old airman.

"Why--you see, Mr. Grimshaw--" stammered Dave.

"Yes, of course I see," retorted the old man firmly. "You're going
to start out a night like this."

"I've got to, Mr. Grimshaw," declared Dave desperately.

"Business, eh?"

"Of the most important kind."

"What is it?"

It was in order for Dave to explain details, and did so briefly.

"H'm," commented Grimshaw, when his pupil concluded his explanation.
"And so you thought you'd steal away without letting me know it?"

"Oh, now, Mr. Grimshaw!" Dave hastened to say-- "that was not the
spirit of the thing at all."

"Go ahead, Dashaway."

"Well, then, I think so very much of you I didn't want it to worry
you."

"Roll her out," was all that Grimshaw would say, placing his one
hand on the tail of the biplane. "Hold on for a minute. Gasoline
supply?"

"Twenty-five gallons."

"That will do. Lubricating oil-all right. Now then, lad, hit that
head wind every time, and you'll make it, sure."

CHAPTER III

A WILD NIGHT RIDE

"Go!"

It was less than half an hour after the appearance of Grimshaw on
the scene that the Baby Racer was all ready for its stormy night's
flight.

The old aviator had fussed and poked about the dainty little
biplane, as if it was some valued friend he was sending out into the
world to try its fortune. Every once in a while he had growled out
some brief advice to Dave in his characteristic way.

Then he directed and helped, while two field men started the machine
on its forward run.

"Look out for telegraph poles, and watch your fuel tank," was
Grimshaw's final injunction.

Dave knew the Baby Racer just as an engineer understands his
locomotive. Daylight or dirk, once aloft the young aviator did not
doubt his own powers. The moment the Racer left the ground,
however, with a switch of her flapping tail, Dave knew that he was
to have no easy fair-weather cruise.

"Slow it is," the watchful, excited Hiram heard him say, working the
wheel as cautiously as an automobilist rounding a sharp curve.

Dave saw that everything depended on getting a start and reaching a
higher level. He kept the angle of ascent small, for the maximum
power of the engine could not be reached in a moment. The starting
speed naturally let down with the machine ascending an inclined
plane.

"It's slow enough, that's sure," remarked Hiram. "It's the wind,
isn't it, Dave?"

"We don't want to slide back in the air or be blown over backwards,"
replied Dave, eye, ear, and nerve on the keenest alert.

The wind resistance caused a growing speed reduction. The
sensitiveness of the elevating rudder warned Dave that he must
maintain a perfect balance until they could strike a steady path of
flight. Hiram's rapt gaze followed every skillful maneuver of the
master hand at that wheel.

"Good for you!" he chirped, as Dave worked the ailerons to
counteract the leaning of the machine. A swing of the rudder had
caused the biplane to bank, but quick as a flash Dave righted it by
getting the warping control on the opposite tack, avoiding a bad
spill.

The machine was tail heavy as Dave directed a forward plunge,
coasting slightly. He had, however, pretty good control of the
center of gravity.

It was now only a question of fighting the stiff breeze that
prevailed, and keeping an even balance.

Hiram's eyes sparkled as the Racer volplaned, caught the head wind
at just the right angle, and struck a course due northwest like a
sail boat under perfect control.

The engine was near the operator's seat, and on the post just under
the wheel were the spark and throttle levers on the fuselage beam.
The steering wheel was a solid piece of wood about eight inches in
diameter with two holes cut into it to fit the hands.

The passenger's seat now occupied by Hiram was in the center line of
the machine, so that, filled or vacant, the lateral balance was not
affected.

Hiram knew all about the monoplane dummy or the aerocycle with
treadle power for practice work which he had operated under old
Grimshaw's direction. As to the practical running of a biplane
aloft, however, that was something for him to learn. He was keenly
alive to every maneuver that Dave executed, and he stored in his
mind every new point he noticed as the Racer seemed fairly started
on its way.

"Keep me posted, Dave," spoke the willing Hiram. "If anything
happens I want to know what you expect me to do."

"I don't intend to have anything happen if I can help it, Hiram,"
replied Dave. "This is a famous start."

"It's not half as bad as I thought it would be," said Hiram.

The rain had changed into a fine mist, but the breeze continued
choppy and strong at times. Dave had gone over the course with Mr.
King in The Aegis twice in the daytime, and had an accurate idea of
the route. However, he had landmarks to follow. What guided Dave
were the lights of the various towns on the route to Kewaukee and
railway signals. These were dimly outlined by a glow only at times,
but Dave as he progressed felt that he was keeping fairly close to
his outlined programme.

Hiram chuckled and warbled, as he knew from Dave's manner and the
way the Baby Racer acted that his friend had it under full control.
Our hero attempted no fancy flying nor spurts of swiftness. Up to
the end of the first hour the flight had proven far less difficult
than he had anticipated.

"There's Medbury," said Dave at length, inclining his head towards
a cluster of electric lights below and somewhat beyond them. "That
means one-third of our journey covered."

"It's great what you and the Baby Racer can do, Dave," cried the
admiring and enthusiastic country boy. "We're going to make it,
aren't we?"

"If the wind doesn't change and we meet with no mishaps," answered
Dave.

A stretch of steady sailing was an excuse for Hiram to share a brief
lunch of ham sandwiches with Dave. The thoughtful Grimshaw had pro-
vided these at the last moment of the departure of the biplane.

By the watch Mr. King had given him on the occasion of winning a
race for the Aegis, Dave found that it was a little after two
o'clock when the Racer passed a town named Creston.

"It's only twenty miles farther, Hiram," announced the young aviator
with satisfaction.

"And plenty of juice in the tank left to go on," added Hiram. "This
is a trip to talk about, eh, Dave?"

Dave nodded and smiled. He suddenly gave renewed attention to wheel
and levers.

"Anything wrong?" inquired Hiram, noticing the movement.

"The wind is shifting slightly," was the reply.

Dave felt of the breeze cautiously after that, keeping his cheek
well to windward. It required constant watchfulness and
maneuvering for the next fifteen miles to keep the control
permanent. Dave was glad when a dim glow of radiance told that they
had nearly reached the end of their journey.

Dave "ducked," as the phrase goes, as a swoop from a new quarter
sent the machine banking.

He managed the dilemma by circling. There was only five more miles
to cover. Dave went up searching for a steadier air current, found
it, maintained a steady flight for over a quarter of an hour, and
slowed down slightly as they came directly over Kewaukee.

"Going to land?" inquired Hiram, attentively attracted by all these
skillful maneuvers.

"Yes," replied Dave. "The question is, though, to find just the
right place."

Dave tried to figure out the contour of the landscape beneath them.
He passed over high buildings, skirted what seemed like a factory
district, and began to volplane.

"Going to drop?" queried Hiram.

"I think so," responded Dave. "According to those electric lights
there is a park or some other large vacant space we can strike on
this angle."

"The mischief!" exclaimed Hiram abruptly as the Racer struck a lower
air current a strong blast of wind made it shake and reel. Then
there was a creak, a sway and a snap.

"Something broke!" shouted Hiram in excitement.

"Yes," answered Dave rapidly. "It's one of the right outermost
struts between the supporting planes."

"The one that snapped the other day," suggested Hiram.

"Likely. Grimshaw fixed it with glue and bracing, and fitting iron
rings about it. The vibration of the motor and the straining have
pulled the nail heads through the holes in the rings."

"Can you hold out?"

Dave did not reply. He felt new vibrations, and knew that the
strain of warping the wings at the tips had caused more than one of
the struts to collapse.

The young aviator realized that it would be a hard drop unless he
did something quickly and effectively. There was no time to think.
Counterbalance was everything.

Dave tried to restore the disturbed balance of the machine by
bringing the left wing under the control. Then he forced the
twisting on the right side.

The young aviator held his breath, while his excited companion
stared ahead and down, transfixed. They were going at a rapid rate,
and every moment the Baby Racer threatened to turn turtle and spill
them out.

Dave succeeded in temporarily checking the tendency to tip. All
aerial support was gone. He kept the rudder at counterbalance,
threw off the power, and wondered what they were headed into.

The next moment the Baby Racer crashed to the ground.

CHAPTER IV

A BUSINESS BOY

"We've landed!" shouted Hiram in a jolty tone, plunging forward in
his seat in the biplane.

"Yes, but where?" Dave asked quickly.

"That's so. Whew! What have we drifted into?"

The Baby Racer had struck a mass soft and yielding. It drove
through some substance rather than ran on its wheels. There was a
dive and a joggle. Then the machine came to a halt--submerged.

Whatever had received it now came up about the puzzled young
aviators as might a snowdrift or it heap of hay. Dave dashed a
filmy, flake-like substance resembling sawdust from eyes, ears and
mouth. Hiram tried to disentangle himself from strips and curls of
some light, fluffy substance. Then he cried out:

"Dave, it's shavings!"

"You don't say so."

"Yes, it is--a great heap of shavings, a big mountain of them."

"Lucky for us. If we had hit the bare ground I fear we would have
had a smash up."

Gradually and cautiously the two young aviators made their way out
of the seats of the machine. They got past the wings. A circle of
electric street lamps surrounded them on four sides. Their
radiance, dim and distant, seemed to indicate that they were in the
center of a factory yard covering several acres.

A little way off they could discern the outlines of high piles of
lumber and beyond these several buildings. The biplane lay partly
on its side, sunk deep in a heap of long, broad shavings. The mass
must have been fully a hundred feet in extent and fifteen to twenty
feet high. They reached its side and slid down the slant to the
ground.

"Well!" ejaculated Dave.

"Yes, and what?" inquired Hiram, brushing the loose bits of shavings
from his soaked tarpaulin coat.

"Business--strictly and quick," replied Dave promptly.

"And leave the Racer where she is?"

"Can you find a better place, Hiram?"

"Well, no, but--"

A man flashing a dark lantern and armed with a heavy cane came upon
them around the corner of the buildings. The boys paused. The man,
evidently the watchman of the place, challenged them, moving his
lantern from face to face.

"Who are you?" he demanded sternly.

"Aviators," replied Dave.

"What's that?"

"We just arrived in an airship."

"No nonsense. How did you get in here?"

"Mister," spoke out Hiram, "we just landed in the biplane, the Baby
Racer. If you don't believe me, come to the shavings pile yonder
and we'll show you the machine, and thank you for having it there,
for if you hadn't I guess we'd have needed an ambulance."

The watchman looked incredulous. He followed Dave and Hiram,
however, as they led the way back to the heap of shavings. One wing
of the biplane stuck up in the air and he made it out.

"This is queer," he observed. "You say it's an airship?"

"Yes, sir," nodded Hiram.

"We had to make a hurried night journey from Columbus," explained
Dave. "There were no trains, and we came with the biplane."

"Well, well, well," commented the watchman. He had heard of
Columbus and the aero meet there, and began to understand matters.

"You see," spoke Hiram, "we can't land everywhere, or we'd have to
settle some damage suits."

"I will be glad to pay you for letting us leave the machine here
till after daylight, and watch it to see no harm comes to it,"
proposed Dave.

"Why, we'll do that," assented the watchman. "You look like two
decent young fellows, and I'm sure the company won't object to
letting your airship stay up there for a few hours."

"We will be back to see about it in a few hours," promised Dave.

The watchman led the boys to the big gate of' the factory yard and
let them out. The rain had ceased and the wind was not blowing so
hard as before.

"What now, Dave?" inquired Hiram, as they found themselves in the
deserted street.

"The Northern Hotel."

"Oh, going to try and fix things before daylight?"

"We can't afford to lose a minute," declared Dave. "There's a
policeman. I want to ask him a question."

They hurried to a corner where a policeman had halted under the
street lamp. Dave inquired the location of the Northern Hotel.
Then the boys proceeded again on their way, and reached the place in
about half an hour.

The night clerk and others were on duty. Dave approached the desk
and addressed the clerk.

"Is a Mr. Timmins stopping here?" he asked.

"Why, no," replied the clerk, looking Dave and Hiram over curiously,
their somewhat queer garb attracting his attention.

"Do you know him, may I inquire?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Timmins has been here several times. We are holding
some mail for him, and expected him several days ago."

"Do you know the company he represents?"

"Airships, isn't it? " propounded the clerk.

"That's right. The Interstate Aeroplane Company."

"Yes, I remember now," added the clerk.

"I am also connected with that company," explained Dave.

The clerk stared vaguely, as if he did not quite understand the
situation.

"Yes," eagerly broke in the irrepressible Hiram, as if he was
introducing some big magnate, "he's Dave Dashaway, and he's beat the
field with the Interstate Baby Racer."

"Oh, Dashaway, eh?" said the clerk, with a pleasant smile. "I've
heard of you and read about you."

"I am glad of that," responded Dave, "because it may help you
identify me with the Inter-state people. As an employee of theirs
and a friend of Mr. Timmins, I will have to be confidential with
you."

"That's all right--we are used to confidences in this business,"
said the hotel clerk.

Dave reflected deeply for a moment. He had a definite plan in view.
He realized that he must confide to a degree in the hotel clerk.

"The gist of the matter," said Dave, "is that Mr. Timmins has missed
connections. He should have been here two days ago. Here is a
telegram I received from the Interstate people."

The clerk read the telegram. He nodded his head and smiled, which
the observant Dave took to mean that he was friendly towards Mr.
Timmins, but knew of some of his business-lapses in the past.

"What do you want me to do?" asked the clerk.

"You notice that the Interstate people refer in that telegram to
some papers sent to the hotel here for Mr. Timmins."

"I noticed that," assented the clerk. "I shouldn't wonder if this
is the package."

As he spoke the clerk reached over to the letter case near his desk
and took up a large manila envelope. It was addressed to Mr.
Timmins, and bore in one corner the printed name and address of the
Interstate Aeroplane Co.

"That is the letter, I feel sure," said Dave.

"I have no doubt of it," agreed the clerk.

"Do you suppose it would help you out any to have me give it to
you?"

"Why, will you?" questioned Dave eagerly. "I was going to ask you
to do so."

"I think I understand the situation now," said the clerk, "and I can
see how your getting the letter may help your people out of a
tangle. It's taking some responsibility on my part, for the letter
is of course the property of Mr. Timmins. I'm going to take the
risk, though, and I think Mr. Timmins will say it's all right when
he comes along."

"I know he will," declared Dave. "You see, I hope to carry through
a contract he has neglected."

Dave took the bulky letter and opened its envelope. He glanced
hastily but intelligently over its contents. They were just what he
imagined they would be, contracts for eight biplanes ready to sign,
and details and plans as to the machines.

"Have you a Kewaukee directory here?" he asked.

The clerk pushed a bulky volume across the marble slab of the
counter, with the words:

"Anybody special you are looking up?"

"Why, yes," replied Dave, "the County Fair Amusement Co."

"Oh, you mean Col. Lyon's proposition," observed the clerk at once.
"He runs county fair attractions all over the country."

"It must be the same," said Dave.

"I know Col. Lyon very well," proceeded the clerk. "He comes in
here very often."

"Where is his office?" inquired Dave.

"I don't think he has any regular office," responded the clerk.
"Two or three times a week he calls for mail at the Central
Amusement Exchange. He travels a good deal--has side attractions
with most of the big shows."

"But he lives in Kewaukee?"

"Not exactly. He has a very fine place called Fernwood, out on the
North Boulevard."

Dave thought things over for a minute or two. Then he asked:

"How can I reach Fernwood?"

"You don't mean before daylight?"

"Why, yes," responded Dave, "the sooner the better."

"I think any of the taxi men out at the curb know the location,"
said the clerk.

"Thank you," replied Dave, "and for all your great kindness about
that letter."

He and Hiram went out to the street. There were three or four
taxicabs lined up at the curb, their drivers napping in the seats.
Dave approached one of them.

"Do you know where Fernwood is?" he inquired of the chauffeur.

"You mean Col. Lyon's place?"

"Yes."

"Was there only last night. I took the Colonel home."

"Then he's there," spoke Dave to Hiram. "All right, take us to
Fernwood."

"You won't find anybody stirring at this hour of the morning,"
suggested the chauffeur.

"Then we'll Wait till the Colonel gets up," said Dave.

In less than half an hour the auto came to a halt before one of a
score or more of fine houses lining the most exclusive section of
the country boulevard.

Dave got out of the machine and Hiram followed him. They passed
through the gates of a large garden. In its center was a mansion
with wide porches. No light showed anywhere about the place.

"You're not going to wake anybody up at this outlandish hour?"
asked Hiram.

"Well, perhaps not," answered Dave.

"Why didn't you wait and see this Col. Lyon in the city at his
office?"

"Because there is no certainty that he will be at his office today.
Then, too, that Star fellow may be on hand there to grab the
contract. I want to head him off."

By this time they had reached the steps of the front porch.

"See here, Hiram," observed Dave, lowering his voice, "we'll sit
down here for a spell. It's about five o'clock, and by six someone
will be stirring about."

"Say," said Hiram, staring across the shadowed porch, "the front
door there is open."

"Why, so it is," replied Dave, peering towards it.

"That's strange, isn't it?"

"Oh, no--neglected, or left open for ventilation."

Both boys relapsed into silence. Hiram rested his face on his hands
and his knees, inclined to doze.

Dave was framing up in his mind how he would approach Col. Lyon. He
was deeply immersed in thought, when a sound behind him caused him
to start and look behind him.

Somebody with a great bundle done up in a sheet had just passed
through the open doorway out upon the porch.

The bundle was so big that its bearer had both hands clasped about
it, and its top came above his eyes.

Before Dave could speak a warning, the man carrying the package
crossed the porch and stumbled against Hiram, whom he did not see.

"Thunder! what's this?" shouted Hiram, knocked from his position and
rolling down the steps.

The man with the bundle echoed the try with one of alarm, as he
missed his footing and plunged forward.

"The mischief!" exclaimed Dave, starting at the bundle over which
the man tumbled, bursting it open.

There was an immense clatter. Even in the imperfect light of the
early morning, the young aviator made out a great heap of clothing,
silverware and jewelry, rattling down the steps of the porch.

CHAPTER V

A TEN THOUSAND DOLLAR ORDER

"What's happened?" cried Hiram, rolling over and over on the gravel
walk to which he had tumbled.

"Stop that man!" shouted Dave.

In a flash the young aviator took in the meaning of the situation.
The fugitive, for such he now was, made a quick move the instant he
gained his feet. Not waiting to see who had obstructed his
progress, and probably deciding that it was the police, he bounded
in among some bushes.

Dave, running after him, made out his form dimly, swiftly scaling a
rear brick wall.

"Why, what is all this?" demanded Hiram, staring at the litter on
the steps.

"That man was a thief," explained Dave.

"It looks that way, doesn't it? Hello!"

Both boys stepped back and stared upwards. Over the porch was a
second railed-in veranda. A night-robed figure had crossed it from
some bed chamber fronting upon it.

"Hey, you down there! What's all this racket?" challenged this
newcomer on the scene.

"Are you Colonel Lyon?" inquired Dave.

"That's me."

"Then you had better come down and see what's going on."

"Why so?"

"Your house has been burglarized."

"Gracious I you don't say so. Where is the thief?"

"He has escaped."

"Hm. Down in a minute," mumbled the man, retiring from view.

It was several minutes before the owner of the mansion put in a
second appearance. He came cautiously out on the porch, clutching a
great heavy cane. He looked the boys over suspiciously.

"I don't understand this," he began.

"Neither did we, Mister," returned Hiram, "till the thief came
bolting out through that front door. He fell all over me and
dropped his bundle. There's what was in it."

Hiram pointed to the scattered plunder. For the first time the
colonel caught sight of the scattered stuff. He gasped, and stared,
and fidgeted. Then he hastened back across the porch and into the
vestibule.

Clang! clang! Clang! rang out a great alarm gong, and almost
immediately two men servants of the place came rushing out
half-dressed upon the porch.

In a very much excited way the colonel incoherently told of the
burglary. He ordered the men to gather up the scattered plunder.
Then he turned his attention to Dave and Hiram.

"Now, tell me about the whole thing," he spoke.

"There isn't much to tell, Colonel Lyon," replied Dave. "We were
sitting here waiting--"

"Waiting?" repeated the showman sharply.

"Yes, sir."

"What for?"

"To see you."

"Eh?" projected the Colonel, with a stare.

"That's right, Mister," declared Hiram. "You see, it's pretty
early, and we didn't want to wake you up."

"Yes, but what brought you here so early?"

"Business," answered Dave.

"Business--with me?"

"Yes, sir. We came in an automobile from the city, so as to be sure
to find you early enough. We had just settled down here to wait and
rest, when that burglar came out."

"Why, then, you've saved my losing all that valuable stuff!"
exclaimed the showman. "I should say so," added the speaker with
force, as he moved over and glanced at the heaps his servants were
massing together, upon the lower step. "Watches, rings, silverware,
my fur winter coat, and hello--my whole collection of rare coins!
Hump! the man must have had the run of the house for hours. Here,
you two, come inside. You've done me a big service."

Hiram chuckled, nudging Dave in a knowing way.

"What luck!" he whispered. "Dave, you're all right now."

The owner of the place led his young guests through the vestibule
into a hallway, and pointed to a large reception room.

"You wait till I get dressed," he directed. "Sit down, and make
yourself comfortable."

As he spoke the showman turned on a perfect blaze of electric light.
Dave and Hiram took off their helmets, and made themselves look as
little like stormy night aviators as was possible under the
circumstances.

It was nearly ten minutes before their host reappeared. He was
fully dressed now, and presented the appearance of a keen, active
business man.

"Think there's any use trying to catch that burglar?" was his first
question.

"I don't think so at all," replied Dave.

"All right, then. Carry that truck into the library," the showman
ordered his two men, who had gathered it up in a rug taken from the
vestibule. "You'll take turns guarding the house, nights after
this. Now then, young men, who are you?"

The showman put the question as he plumped down in an armchair
besides his two guests.

"We're airship boys," explained Hiram hastily, but proudly.

"Oh!" commented Colonel Lyon slowly, looking the pair over from head
to foot.

"That is, Dave is an airman," corrected Hiram. "He's Dave
Dashaway."

"Why, I've heard of you. At the Dayton meet, weren't you?
Honorable mention, or was it a prize?"

"Both," shot out Hiram promptly.

"That's very good," said the colonel. "I'm pretty well up in the
aero field myself. I run that line at county fairs."

"Yes, sir, I know that," said Dave, "and that is why I came to see
you."

"That's so--you said it was business, but I must say you are early
birds," smiled the showman.

"We had to be," again spoke Hiram.

"How was that?"

"Why," said Dave, "I thought it was very necessary that I should see
you first thing this morning. I acted on a wire from my employers,
the Interstate Aeroplane Co."

"Your employers?" repeated the colonel, a fresh token of interest in
his eyes.

"Yes, sir, I have been exhibiting their Baby Racer at the meets."

"Ah, I understand now."

"I am going to take up hydroplane work at Columbus, now. Last night
late I received a telegram from the Interstate people. It led to
getting to Kewaukee and seeing you. There were no trains."

"Roads too bad for an automobile," put in Hiram.

"And we came in the Baby Racer," concluded Dave.

"What's that?" exclaimed the showman.

"You came all the way from Columbus in a biplane?"

"Yes, sir," nodded Dave.

"A night like last night--"

"We had to, you see," observed Hiram.

"H'm," observed the colonel, with decided admiration in his manner,
"that was a big thing to do. Where is your machine?"

"We landed on a heap of shavings in a city factory yard," explained
Dave. "We left the machine in charge of the watchman."

"And automobiled it out here? Why, say, I had some dealings with
your company."

"I know you did," said Dave.

"I wrote to them for specifications and figures on light biplanes.
They sent outlines that pleased me very much, and I told them so.
Their man made an appointment to be at my city office to close up
matters day before yesterday. He never showed up."

"I know that," said Dave.

"What was the trouble?"

"I will explain that to you."

"You see, the Star man was here yesterday. He made a pretty fair
showing, but I was rather struck on your goods."

"Everybody is that knows them," spoke Hiram.

"Well, I was to let the man know this morning at my city office my
decision. You are on deck. All right, what have you got to say?"

"Why, just this," replied Dave: "I'm not much of a business man, of
course, but I hurried on to see you because I believe a trick has
been played on our people."

"Who by?"

"The Star crowd."

"Oh!"

"In some way they have sidetracked our agent. I have with me,"
continued Dave, "the detailed plans and figures on your order, which
had been forwarded from the factory to the Northern Hotel, at
Kewaukee."

"All right, show them up," directed the colonel briskly.

Dave did so. Hiram sat regarding his friend, with undisguised
admiration, as for one half, hour Dave went over papers, explaining
the merits of the Interstate biplane with all the clearness and
ability of a born salesman.

"You'll do," pronounced the showman with an expansive smile, as
Dave concluded. "That's the contract, is it?"

"Yes, sir," and Dave handed the showman the paper in question.

"All right, I'll just go to the library and sign it."

"Dave," whispered Hiram in a triumphant chuckle, as Colonel Lyon
left the room. "Great!"

Dave returned a pleased smile. He suppressed partly the great
satisfaction he felt.

"You see," remarked the showman, returning in a few minutes and
handing the signed contract to Dave, "I favored your machines from
the start. It must be a good machine, to make ninety miles on a
night like last night. Now then, young gentlemen, I've ordered an
early breakfast, and I want you to join me at the meal."

There was no gainsaying the hearty, imperious old fellow. The boys
felt first class as they finished a repast that sent them on their
way complacent and delighted.

"The company will acknowledge the contract, Colonel Lyon," said
Dave, as they left the porch, "and attend to other details."

"I don't suppose, Dashaway," answered the showman, "that you're open
for such a week stunt as exhibiting at some of my county fairs?"

"I am under contract with the Interstate people," replied Dave. "If
I get out of a job, Colonel Lyon, I shall be glad to have you
consider me."

"I fancy I will," declared the showman with enthusiasm. "I'll make
you a liberal offer, too. You've saved the carting away of all that
stuff the burglar gathered. It make it up to you some way."

Dave waved the contract in reply.

"I couldn't have a better feather in my cap than this," he cried
gaily. "Many, many, thanks, Colonel Lyon."

"And you'll find the Interstate biplane just the best in the world,"
added Hiram.

"We've kept that chauffeur waiting a long time," observed Dave, as
they came out upon the boulevard.

"Oh, he's used to that," suggested Hiram.

"I'll give him something extra for his patience," said Dave.

"Yes, the Interstate people can well afford it," commented Hiram.
"Think of it: a ten thousand dollar order! Hurrah!"

CHAPTER VI

ABOARD THE HYDROPLANE

"Dashaway, you're a wonder."

"Thank you, sir."

"And I'm proud of you," added Mr. Robert King, the winner of the
monoplane endurance prize, and the man who had practically adopted
Dave into the aviation field.

"I've got something to say as to the matter of pride," spoke up old
Grimshaw. "A lad who can make the run Dashaway did with the Baby
Racer, is a boy to holler about."

"If there's anything to be proud about," added Dave, "it's the right
good friends I've made."

"My friends, too" put in the impetuous Hiram. "I'm getting along
famously. Why, I only tipped out of the dummy airship once
yesterday."

All hands were in fine high spirits. It was several days after the
wild night race Dave and Hiram had made to Kewaukee. Now the entire
party were on their way to the borders of the lake, where the new
hydroplane made by the Interstate Aviation Company was ready for a
trial trip. Grimshaw knew little of hydroplanes, and the
Interstate people had sent an expert demonstrator to the spot to
teach their young exhibitor the ropes. Dave had been constantly
under this man's tuition.

It was far more easy, he had learned, to acquire a thorough
knowledge, of how to run a hydroplane than to operate a monoplane.
It was simpler, and besides that his experience with an airship
helped wonderfully.

Dave was winning golden opinions from his employers. The way in
which he had dosed the Kewaukee contract had pleased them immensely.
There was another end to the Kewaukee episode that had brought heaps
of satisfaction to all of them, especially to Hiram Dobbs.

The Baby Racer had been quickly repaired at Kewaukee, and had made a
speedy return trip to Columbus. Somehow the story of how the
Interstate people had outwitted the plots of the Star crowd had
gotten noised around the meet. Then a class journal devoted to
aeronautics printed the story.

"Well," Hiram had come to Mr. King's hangar that morning to say,
"the Dawson crowd are simply squelched. I met Jerry Dawson and his
father. You ought to see the looks they gave me when I just grinned
at them, and said 'Contract!' It was like a fellow saying 'Baa!' to
sheep. Why, those fellows just sneaked away. We've beaten them at
every angle, Dave, and I reckon they'll give up their meanness now,
and quickly fade away."

"It would be a good thing for honest aeronautics if they would,"
growled old Grimshaw.

"We'll hasten them with a little help, if they try any more tricks,"
announced Mr. King.

The hydroplane had been run into a boat house after the practice of
the day previous, and was all ready for use. It was equipped to
carry two or more passengers, and was driven by a fifty horse power
motor. It had two propellers, and these were controlled by chain
transmission.

Old Grimshaw had not much use for hydroplanes, he had told Dave.
His hobby was air machines. However, because his favorite pupil was
going to run the machine, he allowed Dave to explain about the
hydroplane, and was quite interested.

The machine had a bulkhead fore and aft, with an upward slope in
front and a downward slope to the rear.

"It's safe, comfortable, and quick to rise to control," declared
Dave. "See, Mr. Grimshaw, there's a new wrinkle."

Dave touched a little device attached to the flywheel. The latter
was made with teeth to fit into another gear, operated from a shaft.

"What do you call that, now?" asked the old airman.

"A self starter. You see, the shaft runs forward alongside the
pilot's seat. Here's the handle of it, right at the end of the
shaft."

"Looks all right," admitted Grimshaw grudgingly. "Give me the air,
though, every time. If you want to be a sailor, why don't you
enlist the navy?"

"How about an air and water combination, Grimshaw?" called Mr. King.

"Well, that is a little better," replied Grimshaw.

"I'm dying to see that new aero-hydroplane Dave's people are getting
out," remarked the ardent Hiram.

"They wrote me it would be completed this week," said Dave.

"And you are going to run it, Dave?"

"I think so, I hope so. They claim great things for it."

"Well, give your hydroplane a spin, Dashaway," suggested Mr. King.
"I want to see how she works, and must get back to the hangars on
business."

The Reliance, the new hydroplane of the Interstate people, was
twenty feet long and had a fuel gauge and a bilge pump.

Dave got into his seat, and Hiram sat directly beside him. A touch
put the machinery in motion.

'There's a puffy eighteen mile wind, Dashaway," cried out Mr. King.

"Yes, I wouldn't venture too far from shore," advised Grimshaw, a
trifle anxiously.

The water was quite rough where the flight started. The machine
acted all right, however. A crowd had gathered on the beach, and
there was some encouraging cheering as the power boat gained good
headway.

"Whew I what have you invited me to, Dave--bath?" puffed Hiram.

Dave had neglected to put in place the rubber cover, so that during
the preliminary run along the water the waves drenched both of the
boys.

Dave stopped the motor and started drifting, at a sudden current or
breeze sent the tail before the wind. The rear of the hydroplane
was forced under water.

"Look out!" ordered Dave sharply.

"I see--we're in for an upset," spoke Hiram quickly.

The hydroplane was forced over backwards, the tail striking a sand
bar.

Dave and Hiram were both ready for the tip. They escaped with only
wetting their feet, for they climbed upon the bottom of the upper
surface as the hydro capsized.

The hydroplanes prevented the machine from sinking. Almost at once
a boat put out from shore. Once back at the boat house, the damage
shown was a slight fracture to the main girder and some of the ribs
at the trailing edge, and two broken tail spars. Dave sent Hiram at
once to the practice grounds to arrange about the repairs.

"It's no weather for a trial, Dashaway," said Mr. King, "I think I
would postpone the trial trip until tomorrow, if I were you."

Dave did not commit himself. He stayed about the boat house after
the airman and Grimshaw had gone away, watching every move of the
repair man.

"She's staunch and sound as she was at the beginning," the latter
declared, when he had completed his work.

"Yes, I think that is true," replied Dave.

"What's the programme?" inquired Hiram, "for I see you don't intend
to give up."

"Not until I master the Reliance, just as I did the Baby Racer,"
declared Dave. "That upset was necessary, I guess, to teach me that
I must drive on just as little surface as possible in speeding, and
make the wings do one half the work."

"Then you are going to try again?" questioned Hiram.

"Yes, Hiram. The waves aren't so choppy now, and the wind has gone
down a good deal."

"It's pretty late for much of a run," replied Hiram.

"Oh, we can make the end of the lake and back inside of an hour."

"Well, I'm always ready--with you," laughed Hiram gaily.

From the start this time Dave knew that he had a better grasp of the
mechanism than on his first trial. The Reliance behaved splendidly.
Once clear of shore obstructions and sandbars, they must have run a
stretch at nearly forty miles an hour.

Sand Point, at the rounding end of the great lake, was reached
without a mishap. Dave did not wait to try any maneuvering for a
crowd that had gathered to watch the Reliance.

"Straight home," he observed, as they made the turn.

"It's time, I'm thinking," said Hiram.

A squall had come up, and the dimness of coming eventide had already
spread over the water, but there was no rain. In fact, it had
turned too cold for that. A fine baffling mist was falling,
however, and this was condensing into a heavy fog.

"Not much to see, eh?" propounded Dave, as they got clear of the
shore. "I shouldn't like to run into some stray craft."

It was something of a strain on Dave, the present situation. No air
signal had yet been placed on the Reliance, nor was its lighting
apparatus installed.

The darkness increased, and the fog became almost an impenetrable
shroud.

"What was that?" shouted out Hiram sharply, as there was a heavy
jarring shock.

"Grazed a rock, I think," replied Dave. "I don't like this a bit.
If I knew my bearings, I'd run straight ashore."

"Do it, anyway, Dave," advised Hiram. "We don't want to wreck the
Reliance on her first trip."

Dave gave the wheel a turn. Just then a distinct yell rang out
across the muggy waters, and then, in rapid succession, seven quick,
snappy explosions.

CHAPTER VII

A RESCUE IN THE FOG

"What do your suppose that was?" inquired Hiram excitedly.

"It was kind of startling," said Dave.

"Listen."

With the power shut off, the hydroplane drifted, Dave checking its
slack running. They were now in a dense fog; with night fast coming
on. For the moment everything was still. Then there rang through
the misty space one word:

"Help!"

"It was in that direction," said Hiram quickly, pointing.

"I think so, too," nodded Dave, "and not far away."

"What could have happened? Those shots?"

"Probably fired to call assistance."

"If you could speed up the hydroplane a little--"

"I would have to get the starter in use, and we might run into
something. Hello! Hello! Hello!" Dave shouted loudly. There was
a speedy reply.

"Here! Hello! this wa-aa-ay!"

"That's a man's voice, and he's right near to us," declared Hiram,
leaning forward and peering through the mist. "Hey, there!"

"I see you. Good!"

There was a tilt of the machine. The person in the water had seized
one of the wing stays.

"Careful, there," ordered Dave. "Don't cling to that wing or bear
it down."

"I can't hold out."

Dave cautiously edged from his seat towards a form now plainly
visible. It was that of a man about thirty years of age.

It was no easy task to take the man aboard. One of his hands was
useless. He seemed in pain and half choked with water he had
swallowed.

Hiram gave up his seat to the rescued man, who sank back as if
overcome with faintness and exhaustion. Hiram himself found a
resting place on the platform supporting the two seats.

"Is there anybody else in trouble?" Dave asked of their passenger.

"No, no," replied the man. "The launch is gone up. Get me to land
quick as you can. I'm afraid my arm is broken. It pains me
terribly. I must get to a surgeon soon as possible."

Dave got the hydroplane under way again.

He was fortunate in striking a course that brought them back to the
boat house in about an hour's time.

The rescued man was somewhat revived by this time, and when the
hydroplane was safely housed, Dave took his arm and piloted the way
from the beach.

"It is less than half a mile to the hangars," the young aviator
explained. "When we get there we can find an automobile to take you
into town."

"It was when my launch struck a rock that I hurt my arm," the man
explained.

"Were you on board alone?" asked the curious Hiram.

"Yes. I was driving ahead full speed, to get ashore out of the fog.
I heard your machine, and was afraid I'd get run into. My launch
ran into a reef with terrific force. I was thrown against it
bulkhead, arm sprained or broken, nearly stunned, and then into the
water."

"But the launch, Mister?" questioned the interested Hiram anxiously.

"Smashed. I don't know if I could locate it again in the fog. I
couldn't use my hurt arm, and I fired my revolver, yelled, and gave
up when your machine came along."

"Where did you come from, Mister?" pressed the persistent Hiram.

"Why--well, I came from up north. Own a launch. Had some business
this way, and got well on my way till the craft struck."

Dave noticed as the man spoke that it was in a hesitating, evasive
way. He seemed anxious to change the conversation, for he said:

"You are taking me to the Columbus aero field?"

"Yes, we belong there," answered Dave.

"Some people there named Dawson?"

"Yes, father and son."

"That's it. Here, now?"

"Oh, yes, they follow the different meets."

"Why, then, say," observed the man, "if you will just get me up
against them, I shall be pleased. You see, they're friends of mine.
They'll take care of me."

Dave gave the man a look. Hiram pulled a face at him behind his
back. That settled it with Hiram. In his mind he was sure that
anybody who knew the Dawsons in a friendly way could not possibly
amount to much.

The man did not mention his name. He seemed to care nothing
whatever for the fate of the launch. He barely thanked Dave, as,
reaching the aero grounds, our hero led him near to the headquarters
of the man for whom the Dawsons were working.

"You'll find your friends over there," he said.

"All right," nodded the man he had rescued. "Lucky I met you.
Thanks."

"Say, Dave Dashaway, now what do you think of that!" burst out
Hiram, as the man got out of earshot.

"Think of what, Hiram?" inquired the young aviator.

"Friend of the Dawsons!"

"Well, they've got to know somebody, haven't they?"

"That's so, but I don't like the fellow you rescued."

"Why not, Hiram?"

"Did you notice the way he hesitated when we asked him where he had
come from?"

"Yes."

"And about that launch? He didn't seem to care what had become of
it."

"Maybe it didn't belong to him."

"Well, anyway, hadn't he ought to have some concern about other
folks' property?"

Dave did not reply. He had his own ideas and opinion of the rescued
man. He was due for a public exhibition of the Reliance the next
day, and dismissed the incident from his mind as he got back to the
Baby Racer hangar.

Mr. King was to make a non-stop race also, and there was plenty of
detail to attend to at the Aegis headquarters as well.

That was a busy, exciting day, the one following. The Aegis and her
competitors got started by ten o'clock. There was a varied
programme from eleven to one. At three o'clock Dave made his run
with the hydroplane.

Two other machines engaged in the contest, but not only were they of
inferior make, but their operators were clumsy and not up to
standard.

Dave won considerable praise. The Reliance made a beautiful run,
and he felicitated himself that he had got onto the knack of running
it right.

"I don't believe much in hydroplanes," old Grimshaw observed to him
as he accompanied Dave back to the aero grounds, "but I believe in
you, and I will say you made a clever showing."

"Wait till the Interstate folks send on their latest improved
aero-hydroplane, Mr. Grimshaw," said Dave. "You'll see some fine
work then."

"There's your friend, young Dobbs," remarked Grimshaw.

Dave saw Hiram on a run, headed towards them. He came up
breathless.

"Some one at the hangar to see you, Dave," he reported.

"Who is it, Hiram?"

"He says he's a United States revenue officer."

"Hello!" spoke Grimshaw, "I hope your hydroplane hasn't got you into
any trouble running up against the government."

"Oh, I think not," replied Dave with a smile.

"It's a long story and a big story, Dave," replied Hiram. "You know
the man you rescued he lake yesterday?"

"Yes, Hiram."

"Well, it turns out that he is a notorious smuggler and the
government is looking for him."

CHAPTER VIII

A PUZZLING DISAPPEARANCE

Dave hurried his steps. Old Grimshaw turned off at the Aegis
headquarters. Hiram led his companion by a short cut to the Baby
Racer hangar.

On a campstool inside the tent where the boys slept, Dave found a
keen-eyed, hatchet-faced man. He sat stiff as a poker, and seemed
to pierce Dave through and through with his glance as he looked him
over critically.

"Dashaway, yes?" he interrogated, and as Dave bowed assent he added:
"Thought I'd wait and see you, although our young friend here has
been pretty dear."

"About what?" asked Dave.

"Ridgely."

"Who is he?"

"The man you rescued from the lake last evening. As I have told
your friend, the man is a bad one, and we have chased him up and
down the lakes clear from Detroit."

"He is a criminal, then?"

"A smuggler. He has outwitted the revenue officers for some time.
His last specialty was running Chinese emigrants over the border.
When he learned the chase was on, he stole a launch and scudded for
other waters. He had the name and color of the launch changed. Why
he came to Columbus we don't know."

"To see some people named Dawson, he said."

"Yes, they appear to be fiends."

"Can't Jerry Dawson tell you anything about him?" asked Dave.

"No."

"For a very good reason."

"And what is at?"

"Dawsons left last night."

"Left--left the meet?" exclaimed Dave in surprise.

"Yes, bag and baggage."

"That puzzles me," said Dave.

"It baffles us," observed the revenue officer, "for they have left
no clew to their future whereabouts."

"Won't Jerry's employer tell you?"

"He says he can't. Professes to be quite at sea as to the meaning
of their sudden departure. Angry, too, for it seems they had a
contract in the service."

"I wouldn't believe him," broke in Hiram. "Anybody respectable
about the meet can tell you that he is not to be trusted."

"Well, the Dawsons are gone and Ridgely went away with them," said
the revenue officer definitely. "I fancied you might give me some
hint that might help me, Dashaway, as to their antecedents,
friends."

"I'm a new one in the aviation line," said Dave. "I found them in
the business when I joined it, only a few weeks ago."

"Well, I understand you are two pretty keen young fellows," said the
officer, "I'm going to leave you my card. There it is."

Dave glanced at the bit of pasteboard his visitor extended. It bore
simply a name: "James Price."

"If you get the faintest clew to Ridgely or the Dawsons," continued
Mr. Price, "wire the secret service bureau at Chicago. I will
arrange so that I shall be advised at once."

"I will do what I can for you, Mr. Price," promised Dave.

"All right, and send in any reasonable bill you like for your
service. We feel certain that this, Ridgely, driven from one
district, will begin operations in another. Then, too, from what I
learn these Dawsons are not above engaging in of off-color schemes."

"They aren't!" cried Hiram. "If they had stayed, Mr. King said
they'd be barred from the meets in a few days."

"Well, help me all you can."

"Queer, isn't it?" spoke Hiram, as the revenue officer left them.

"It is a rather strange proceeding," admitted Dave.

At five o'clock that afternoon the two friends were down at the
south pylons awaiting the coming in of the machines engaged in the
non-stop race. A great crowd was gathered, for according to
estimated schedules some of the monoplanes would be due within the
coming half hour.

"If it's the Aegis first," spoke Hiram, "it makes three winning
stunts for Mr. King in two days."

A sort of instantaneous flutter pervaded the people as some word
starting from the judge's stand passed electrically through the
crowd.

"They've sighted something," shouted an excited spectator.

"Yes, there's one of the airships," added a quick voice.

"I see it!"

"There's another!"

"Hurrah!"

Hiram stood looking up into the sky, fairly trembling with suspense.
A man standing by Dave had a field glass.

"I make out two," he spoke to an inquirer at his side.

"I think I can tell you who they are if you'll give me your glass
for a minute," said Dave.

"Certainly," replied the man.

"What is it, Dave? " cried Hiram, as, watching the face of his comrade
closely, he discerned an intense expression upon it.

"Aegis in the lead--" began Dave, lowering the field glass.

"Aegis in the lead!" ran from the spot in receding echoes as the
news passed down the line.

"That's King's craft."

"I knew it!"

"Butterfly a close second," reported Dave.

"There's another one!"

"And another!"

"See them come!" cried an excited old farmer. "Say, it beats the
electric cars down at Poseyville!"

The field was in a wild flutter. The contesting aircraft came
nearer and nearer. Finally Hiram could make out the Aegis fully a
mile in the lead, the wings set for a drop straight beyond the south
pylon.

"He's won--Mr. King has won!" he shouted again and again, fairly
dancing up and down.

The crowd surged towards the landing point as the Aegis gracefully
sailed to earth, ran a stopping course, and Robert King stepped out
amid the frantic cheers of his friends and admiring spectators in
general.

The great aviator looked please and proud. Old Grimshaw trotted at
his side on the way to the Aegis hangar.

"Say, you're taking about everything there is in sight," he
remarked, with one of his grim chuckles.

"I've run the limit on the set spurts, I guess," replied the expert
airman. "I'm going to look, for something better."

"What is there that's better than these famous stunts of yours, Mr.
King?" inquired Hiram.

"A record beater of some account," was the quick response.

"Record breaker of what?" pressed the persistent Hiram.

"Well," said Mr. King with an animated sparkle in his eye, "you and
Dashaway come down to the hangar this evening, and I'll tell you all
about it."

CHAPTER IX

A GIANT AIRSHIP

Dave Dashaway and his friend were promptly on hand at the Aegis
hangar at eight o'clock that evening.

Usually the boys took their meals with Mr. King. A group of the
airman's admirers, however, had insisted on a special dinner at a
hotel just outside the grounds. Hiram piloted the way for Dave to
the restaurant on the field. He had worked for the man having it in
charge, and the best meal possible was set out for them free of
charge.

They found Mr. King in the little partitioned off room of the Aegis
hangar which he used as an office. The airman sat before a desk
littered up with a variety of papers. One of these Dave noticed as
he entered, was a detailed drawing of an immense airship.

"Oh, arrived, eh?" spoke the aviator with a pleasant smile, as the
boys came into view. "Glad of it. Get comfortable seats and we'll
have a little chat."

The boys settled themselves in camp chairs, Mr. King closed the door
of the apartment and sat down again. Hiram regarded him eagerly and
expectantly.

"I've got something to tell you, lads," began the airman, after a
brief thoughtful pause. "This is business, and of course you will
be wise enough to treat it confidentially."

"I love to keep secrets," declared the ardent Hiram, and Dave smiled
and nodded assent to the sentiment.

"I have been thinking and planning for a big event for some time,"
continued Mr. King.

"As how, now?" asked Hiram, devoured with suspense.

"Well, in the first place I propose to build a giant airship."

"I know," said Hiram. "A big passenger monoplane."

"No," interrupted the aviator. "What I want is a dirigible
airship."

"Pshaw! only a balloon!" remarked Hiram disappointedly.

"Not at all," corrected the good-natured airman. "Except for the
self-sustaining power, it will be constructed on the best aeroplane
principles. I have been working on it for some months, and only
yesterday I got figures on the machine."

"What is it for, Mr. King?" submitted the inquisitive Hiram,
"exhibitions?"

"No. It's first big feat is to cross the Atlantic."

"Cross the Atlantic Ocean!" almost gasped the excited Hiram.

"Cross the Atlantic!" repeated Dave, in a startled yet thoughtful
manner.

He sat looking fixedly at the aviator as if fascinated. The
novelty, the immensity of the proposition, stunned Dave.

"Can it be done?" he asked in a low, intense tone, vast dreams
running through his mind a lightning speed.

"According to my calculations, yes," replied Mr. King definitely.
"Oh, it is no new idea with me. The project has been the constant
ideal of every advanced airman. It has got to come to that, if
aeronautics is the progressive science we enthusiasts believe it to
be."

"I would like to be the first one to win such a triumph," said Dave.

"Yes, the first one gets the fame," said the airman. "The prize,
too. If such an experiment was rationally started I believe the
profession and its backers would put up a small fortune to go to the
successful winner. Now, boys, I have great confidence in you. What
has held me back has been the lack of capital."

"Say, Mr. King," broke in Hiram impetuously, "I've got nearly thirty
dollars saved up, and Dave--"

"It will take bigger amounts than we three put together can earn
just to get the plans of the giant airship on paper," said Mr. King,
with an indulgent smile at his loyal young friends. "If I go to any
regular aero promoters they will want all the proceeds. I can raise
a few thousand dollars myself and do as much more among my friends
but, all put together, the amount wouldn't make even a beginning."

"How much will it take, Mr. King?" asked Dave seriously.

"At least twenty-five thousand dollars."

"Whew!" whistled Hiram.

"It's no child's play. It's a big risk, and there's no doing it
half way," declared Mr. King. "Last night while I was planning over
it, a sudden idea came to me. Dashaway, you remember that fellow
who stole my watch and money and medal from you?"

"You mean the young thief who called himself Briggs, and then
Gregg?"

"Exactly."

"Yes, Mr. King."

"And how he used some letters sent to your father from a great
friend of his?"

"Mr. Dale?" nodded Dave, wondering what all this had to do with the
giant airship scheme.

"Well, as you know, that young scamp, Gregg, had gone to Mr. Dale,
who had never seen you, and by means of the letters stolen from you
made him believe that he was the son of his old friend. So
delighted was Mr. Dale, that he practically adopted young Gregg. In
fact, he was on the point of making the pretended Dave Dashaway heir
to all his fortune."

"You told me about that," said Dave.

"When we left Dayton to come here, we had to make a hurried jump to
fill our contract, as you know. I let Gregg go, after recovering my
stolen property from him, but I got a written confession of his bold
imposture, first. You know my plan was for you and me to go where
Mr. Dale lives, and introduce him to the real Dave Dashaway. You
see, although I have managed to scare that old tyrant guardian of
yours, Silas Warner, into leaving you alone, I feared he might work
some trick to get you back in his clutches again."

"I've thought a good deal about that lately," said Dave.

"My plan was to have this Mr. Dale go to Brookville, show up Warner,
and apply for your guardianship."

"Yes, then I would feel safe," said Dave.

"Well, Mr. Dale, having been an old balloonist, would probably not
object to your remaining in the same line of business in which your
father was famous."

"I should think he would be pleased," remarked Hiram, who was always
interested and active in any conversation going on.

"I counted on that," resumed the aviator. "At all events, not being
able to go or send Dave to Warrenton to meet this Mr. Dale, I wrote
to a friend of mine who lives at Warrenton. I told him the whole
story, instructing him to inform Mr. Dale, so if this Gregg came
around again, he would be ready to treat him as an imposter. My
friend wrote me only yesterday that Mr. Dale was off on an
automobile trip, and might not be back for a day or two. He said
that Mr. Dale was a very lonely old bachelor. He had been delighted
to take up Gregg, believing him to be the son of his old balloonist
comrade, so you would, be sure to receive a really grand welcome,
Dave."

"I'm glad of that," said Dave, filled with deep gratitude as he
contrasted his present circumstances with his former forlorn
condition.

"Now then, to business," continued Mr. King briskly. "I don't want
to 'work' anybody with my personal schemes, but I see a chance to
put my giant airship project on its feet."

"Why," cried Dave brightly, "you mean to interest Mr. Dale?"

"That's just what I do mean," assented the aviator.

Dave rose to his feet, excited and pleased.

"Mr. King," he said earnestly, "I not only would do all I could to
have Mr. Dale join you, but I feel sure he would be glad to take an
interest in your plan."

"It's worth trying, anyway," responded the airman. "I'm going to go
by rail to Warrenton to-morrow, in the hope of finding Mr. Dale at
home. I shall send you to him later."

"All this isn't grand, or exciting, or anything of that sort, is it,
now!" ejaculated Hiram, as Dave and he returned to the Baby Racer
hangar.

"I hope Mr. King's plans come out, all right, responded Dave. "I'll
do a good deal to repay him for all he has done for me."

"And me, too," echoed Hiram. "He's a fine fellow!"

Mr. King departed on his journey the next day. Dave was not on the
programme, so he practiced some with the hydroplane. Coming home
for dinner, he found a letter from the Interstate people.

They were cheery and optimistic over the completion of their new
model aero-hydroplane. It had been tested and worked splendidly.
The company stated that they would ship the machine to the meet at
Columbus two days later.

Dave told Hiram about the machine, and the hitter was in a fever of
expectation over its anticipated arrival.

The boys were eating their supper at the King hangar later in the
day, when a telegraph messenger appeared.

"Message for Mr. Dave Dashaway," he said. "I'm your man," replied
Dave.

He signed for the message, tore open the envelope, and glanced
rapidly over the enclosure. His face clouded as he did so, for the
message was from his employers, the Interstate Aero Company, and it
read:

"Cancel all dates. Come on at once. Trouble."

CHAPTER X

SOMETHING WRONG

"What is it, Dave? " inquired Hiram, tracing a sudden seriousness in
the manner of his comrade.

Dave did not reply. With a thoughtful air he passed the telegram to
Hiram.

"Wonder what's up?" queried the latter.

"I can't imagine," said Dave.

"They tell you to cancel your dates," went on Hiram, looking very
much worried.

"Yes, that's what bothers me," replied Dave.

"And to come on to the factory at once."

"Perhaps they want to pay me off and let me go," suggested Dave,
pretending to smile.

"Don't take any trouble on your mind on that score," cried Hiram.
"They'd search a long time before they'd find a better demonstrator
than you are."

"Thank you Hiram," said Dave. "The telegram is plain."

"Yes, cancel all dates."

"That's easy, I have nothing on the programme for the rest of the
week."

"There's the aero-hydroplane stunt."

"But the machine hasn't arrived."

"That's so."

"Let's go down and see Grimshaw. I want to talk to him about this,"
said Dave.

They found the airman at the Aegis hangar. Dave read him the
telegram. Grimshaw looked bothered.

"Too bad, when things are going so finely for you," he remarked.

"I wish Mr. King was here," said Dave, "but he probably won't be
until tomorrow."

"Hardly, I should judge, from what he said," replied Grimshaw.

"I had better start right off for the Interstate plant."

"Yes. I would do that if I were you," advised Grimshaw.

"I wish you would see the managers and explain about this,"
continued Dave.

"Suppose the Drifter comes Dave?" asked Hiram.

The Drifter was the name of the new model aero-hydroplane concerning
which Dave had received a letter from the Interstate people that
day, but written the day previous.

"I'll see that it is handled all right," promised Grimshaw.

"Tell Mr. King I will wire him just as soon as I learn what's up,"
said Dave. "You'll look after the Racer and the hydroplane, won't
you, Hiram?"

"Surely I will," pledged Hiram.

Dave returned to his own quarters and packed a small hand bag. Hiram
went to the railroad depot with him. They had to wait two hours for a
south-bound train.

The factory of the Interstate Aero Company was located at a city in
Ohio. It was over three hundred miles from Columbus. The train
Dave was on arrived at a junction about daylight the next morning.
There he had to wait for a train on another road.

He had slept a few hours and got his breakfast at the depot
restaurant. According to schedule he would reach the Interstate
plant about ten O'clock in the morning.

Dave had been looking out of the car window enjoying the scenery and
thinking over affairs in general, when he chanced to direct his gaze
at a newspaper the man in the forward seat was reading. A glaring
head line had caught his eye: "A Burglar In The Clouds."

Anything suggestive of the air was of interest to the young aviator.
He wondered what the item might refer to. Dave leaned over to try
to scan the body matter of the article, when the locomotive whistled
and the train slowed up for a station. The man in front of him
shoved the newspaper into his pocket to leave the train. Then the
incident drifted from the youth's mind.

Dave reached Bolton on schedule time. An inquiry directed him to
the extensive works of the Interstate Aeroplane Company. He found
it to be a very large plant. The company, besides manufacturing
aircraft, also turned out automobiles.

Past the entrance gates of the big establishment, Dave became at
once interested in a large building bearing the sign "Aerodrome."
He could not resist the impulse to enter it. Then he found himself
going from section to section, viewing the splendid assortment of
aircraft on exhibition and for sale.

To a devotee of aeronautics the display was most fascinating. There
were monoplanes, biplanes, and hydroplanes. In one section were
samples of the various accessories of the craft. Dave was looking
over a splendid passenger monoplane when some one hailed him.

"Dashaway--say, we've been expecting you."

Dave turned to face the man who had been sent on by the Interstate
people to drill him in the use of the hydroplane at Columbus.

"Yes," nodded Dave, I got a hurry call wire, and came on at once."

"Seen the manager?"

"Not yet. I drifted in here and lost myself among so many beauties.
I don't see the new hydro-aeroplane."

A quick shade came over the face of Dave's companion.

"No," he hesitatingly replied.

"Has it been shipped to Columbus yet?" inquired Dave.

"Why--that is, I guess I had better let the manager tell you about
the machine."

Dave noticed a singular constraint in the manner of his companion.

"Come along, I'll introduce you," volunteered the latter.

Dave accompanied his guide from the aerodrome. They passed several
large factory buildings. In their center was a small one story
brick structure labeled "Office."

Dave had never met the manager of the Interstate Company. He had
transacted all his business with the agent of the company and the
hydroplane expert. His companion led him past a row of desks
occupied by clerks and stenographers and into a neatly furnished
office.

"Here is Dashaway, Mr. Randolph," he said.

A fine looking man writing at a desk wheeled quickly in his chair.
He arose to his feet with a pleasant smile and shook Dave's hand in
a welcoming way.

"I am glad to meet you," he spoke. "You received our telegram?"

"Yes, sir, and came on at once."

"I suppose you know why we sent for you?" questioned the manager.

"Why, no, sir," replied Dave.

"We tried to keep our loss a secret," proceeded the manager, "but
the newspapers got hold of it."

Dave recalled the newspaper heading he had glanced at, "A Burglar In
The Clouds," and wondered if that had anything to do with the case.

"I have not read a newspaper since leaving Columbus last night,"
said Dave.

"Well," explained the manager of the Interstate Company, "our new
model aero-hydroplane his been stolen."

CHAPTER XI

"N. A. L."

"Stolen!" exclaimed Dave, in dismay.

"It startles you?" spoke the manager of the Interstate Aeroplane
concern. "So it did us."

"But--"

"You are mystified--unusual occurrence rather. You can follow the
track of a stolen automobile. But when it comes to pursuing an
airship, you won't find many familiar roads in the clouds."

"How did it happen?" inquired Dave.

"Why, we had tested the machine and it was to have been shipped to
you yesterday. The day before, our expert made a very fine and
satisfactory demonstration. The tanks were full, everything in
perfect shape for another spurt early yesterday morning. During the
night some one scaled the fence, evaded the watchman, and broke into
the aerodrome."

"It must have been some one familiar with the place here," suggested
Dave.

"We don't know that. It is certain, though, that they knew all
about airships."

"Why so?"

"Because from the trail they left we could trace where they ran the
machine outside. They gauged its ground run just right. They must
have put on the muffler, for the watchman heard no sounds. Then
they flew away."

"Do you suspect anybody?" questioned Dave.

"No."

"Could it have been a business rival?"

"Scarcely. We have some hard competitors, but we have canvassed the
situation and do not believe they could afford to mix up in a
deliberate steal."

"It is strange," commented Dave, in a musing tone.

"Our belief is that the Drifter was selected as the nearest and
highest type of aircraft in existence. The people who stole it did
so with some definite purpose in view."

"What could that purpose be?" asked Dave.

"We cannot as yet decide. One thing is certain--they will not
venture to use it at any of the aero meets."

"Then they must design to take it to a distance."

"Of course."

"You have no trace of it?" asked Dave.

"None whatever. We can account for that, however. The night was
dark, they started out when everybody was asleep, and they could
have gone in one certain direction and struck a positive wilderness
in a few hours time."

"You mean north?"

"Among the pineries, yes."

"Or over the Canadian border?"

"Exactly."

Dave sat silent and thoughtful for some moments. The situation was
a novel one. He had never heard of any one stealing an airship
before. The Interstate manager aroused him from his reverie with
the words:

"We sent for you, Dashaway, because you are our most active man in
the field."

"That sounds pretty grand for a young fellow like me," returned Dave
with a smile, and flushing up, too.

"We gage out men by what they do," replied Mr. Randolph in a
matter-of-fact tone. "We have found blood the best in our business.
You have made good, Dashaway."

"Thank you, sir."

"Mr. King said you were the most promising aviator in the field."

"Oh, he is always saying something good about me."

"You proved it in your ideal work with the Baby Racer."

"Who wouldn't, with any pride and that perfect machine?" challenged
Dave.

"That dash of yours after that Lyon order when you outwitted the
Star people was simply brilliant. It showed your loyalty to us.
The newspapers have given your hydroplane work so far the biggest
kind of a send off."

Dave was silent. He looked modest and embarrassed at all this
praise. He could not, however, feel otherwise than pleased at all
these eulogies bestowed upon him.

"The Drifter has got to be found," resumed the manager. "It is our
first perfected model, and we can hardly build its counterpart in
time for full seasonal exhibitions. We think you are the man to
find it, Dashaway."

"Oh, Mr. Randolph," said Dave with a slight start.

"I am expressing the opinion of the head men in the company here,
who knew your good record. You are young, ambitious, a capable
airman, and above all you are loyal to the interest of your
employers."

"I should hope it," exclaimed Dave, roused up to genuine emotion.
"Just think--you picked me out, a mere boy, and trusted me. And see
what you helped me do, already!"

"Exactly," interrupted Mr. Randolph quickly. "That is just the
point--you've outdone some of the veterans in the service and jumped
to a high place in a bound. That's why we trust you."

"I don't know about what you propose, though," said Dave, sobering
down.

"Yes, it's a pretty hard task to set. We're all at sea."

"So am I," admitted Dave.

"Put those keen wits of yours at work, Dashaway," urged the manager
encouragingly. "I know after thinking this affair over you'll be
ready to suggest something."

"Well, all airmen should know of the theft of the Drifter, and be on
the lookout."

"We notified every association and meet in the country after we
found that the newspapers had got onto the theft. That advertises
it widely. The persons, however, who stole the Drifter knew that
would come about. Rest assured of on point, therefore--they won't
stay within range of possible identification any longer than they
can help."

"That's so," acknowledged Dave musingly.

"The company wishes you to take charge of a search for the Drifter,"
went on Mr. Randolph. "Any machine we own, half a dozen of them if
you like, are at your disposal. You may proceed regardless of the
expense. If Mr. King could be induced to assist--"

"I think he is under contract clear up to the end of the season,"
explained Dave.

"Sorry for that, but he is such a good friend to you and to us, and
I fancy he would gladly cooperate with advice and direction."

"Yes, indeed," assented Dave.

"We owe you a good deal more than your contract income already,
Dashaway," said the manager. "I don't think there's an aviator
living ever had a finer settlement than you will have if you succeed
in running down the Drifter."

"I'll try," said Dave.

"That's capital."

"Give me a few hours to think it over," suggested Dave.

The young aviator left the Interstate plant very thoughtful and
serious. Dave decided that he had assumed a big responsibility. He
seemed to feel an actual ponderous weight on his young shoulders.

A score of theories ran riot through his mind its to the motive for
the theft of the Drifter. Then he decided that it must be some
professional who had done the act. It was hard to fathom the
ultimate plans of such an abstractor, who would not dare to use the
machine in any public way and could scarcely sell it.

"It's a puzzle, a big, worrying poser," said Dave, walking slowly
from the factory grounds.

About half a mile city-wards from the plant Dave passed through a
square devoted to public park purposes. He sat down on a
tree-shaded rustic bench. There, alone, quiet and undisturbed, he
set his wits at work.

Whoever it was who had committed the theft must have been a
professional airman. Dave formulated a plan to ask Mr. Randolph if
anybody in Bolton, or any employee of the plant was missing. In
case this was not discovered then some stranger must have come to
Bolton. There might be a trace found of the party at some of the
hotels.

"There's a bit of detective work to do by some one besides myself,"
decided Dave. "I'm going to suggest this plan to Mr. Randolph."

"Hello, boss," spoke an approaching voice as Dave got up to return
to the plant.

He observed a man he had noticed on a bench directly opposite to the
one he had occupied sidling towards him. The fellow was ragged and
trampish looking. There was a queer leer in his face and his eyes
were fixed on the coat Dave wore.

"Well, what is it?" inquired Dave.

"Excuse a question, matey?"

"Oh, that's all right."

"Noticed a badge you're wearing," said the tramp.

"Oh, that?" spoke Dave lifting his hand to his coat lapel, and
wondering at the man been so observant.

"Yes--N. A. L.," nodded the tramp.

Dave eyed the speaker keenly. At the distance he was, it was
doubtful that he could have dearly made out the monogram, yet he
named the letters glibly and correctly.

"N. A. L." stood for the National Aero League. Dave was not a
member and neither was Hiram Dobbs. Mr. King was and during the
meets it had become the custom with professionals to furnish their
assistants with duplicate badges, which enabled them to enter and
leave the aero grounds unchallenged by the gateman, and ticket
takers.

"You must have pretty good eyes to make out those letters on that
badge at a distance," said Dave.

"I've seen them before," readily explained the tramp.

"Oh, you have?"

"Yes, and I've got a badge for sale just like the one you're
wearing."

CHAPTER XII

DAVE'S DISCOVERIES

"You have got a badge like mine for sale, you say?" exclaimed Dave.

"That's so," bobbed the tramp with a grin.

"Where did you get it?"

"That don't go with the sale, but I didn't steal it."

"You found it, I suppose?" suggested Dave.

"Well, you might call it so." The man drew from his pocket a badge
which was the exact counterpart of that worn by the young aviator.

"Let me have a look at it," said Dave.

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"You can see what it is, can't you? I don't want to get into
trouble, boss."

"I'm not going to get you into any trouble," declared Dave.

"Then why do you want to look at the badge? It's no different from
yours, is it?"

"Are there no marks on it?"

"Why, I didn't notice. Say, yes, there are," announced the tramp,
scrutinizing the little piece of metal on the back of the badge.
"Looks like T. O."

Dave put his hand in his pocket.

"What do you want for it?" he asked.

Evidently the tramp was about to say "fifteen cents." He shrewdly,
however, observed an interested if not an eager expression on Dave's
face, arid added:

"--ty cents."

"It's yours," replied Dave, promptly producing the coin. "Wh-e-w!"

Dave stared, started and gave utterance to a prolonged whistle. He
came to his feet with a shock. Upon the rear plate of the badge
were scratched two letters, indeed--but the tramp had read them
wrong. As read by Dave they were a mine of information.

Dave's mind ran rapidly. He sat down again on the bench. The tramp
grinned broadly as Dave turned an eager and excited face upon him.

"Why," he chuckled, "you're real friendly, aren't you?"

"No trifling," said Dave seriously. "I'll give you a good deal more
than fifty cents if you tell me truthfully and right away how you
came by that badge."

"How much now?"

"Two dollars."

"The information is yours, Cap," answered the tramp, with an assumed
air of grandness. "I found it."

"When?"

"At one o'clock yesterday morning."

"Where?"

"By the fence of the big Fly factory down yonder."

"You mean the Interstate works?"

"That's the place, I guess."

Dave became more interested than ever. He handed a two dollar bill
to the tramp without further question.

"Now, my man," he said, "I've been square with you."

"That's right," assented the tramp.

"I want you to tell me all about how you came by that badge."

"Well, boss, I'm troubled with asthma, and have to sleep out of
doors nights."

"Go on."

"The police in the city know me moderately well, and I prefer the
suburbs."

"Don't fool--give me the facts."

"Night before last I camped down in a grassy spot near the fence of
the big Fly factory. It must have been about midnight when I was
waked up. I heard somebody say: 'Oh, at take it!'"

"Who was it?"

"A boy about your size."

"What was he doing?" asked Dave.

"He was up on top of the fence. He had climbed up one of the
slanting outside supports, I guess. You know there's two rows of
barbed wire a-top of the boards. Well, there he was, making a great
fuss."

"What about?" inquired Dave.

"The back of his coat was all tangled up in the barbs. He couldn't
pull it loose. Then I heard some voices speak on the inside of the
fence. There were two men there."

"You think they had got over first?"

"It looked that way. They told the boy to pull out of his coat. He
got his arms out, started to untwist the coat, stuck his fingers
with the barbs, and tumbled over into the factory yard."

"And then?" pressed Dave eagerly.

"H'm! I went to sleep."

"What! not knowing but what they were burglars?"

"Boss, I never mix up with other people's business, good or bad."

"How did you come to get the badge?"

"Why, when I woke up at sunrise I saw the coat sticking on the fence
where the boy had left it. I climbed up and got it. The badge was
pinned to it."

"You haven't got the coat on."

"Good reason."

"What's that?"

"Well, my own coat is pretty ragged but it ain't a marker to the way
that boy's coat was riddled and torn by them barb wires."

"Didn't you search the coat?"

"Every time that, matey."

"And found--?"

"Humph! nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Oh, yes, there was some cigarettes, a stub of a pencil and a card
with some marks and writing, on it."

"What did you do with the card?" asked Dave.

"Tossed it into the ditch with the coat."

"Do you remember where?"

"Sure, I do."

"I'll give you another dollar to take me to the spot."

"Say, you're a gold mine to me, Cap. Come ahead."

Dave was doing a good deal of active thinking. More than once, as
his companion led way around the high board fence enclosing the
Interstate plant, Dave took out the badge he had bought and
scrutinized the scratches on its back closely.

'The tramp guided the way across a bleak prairie stretch. Then he
followed the dry ditch, until they came to a spot where thick clumps
of weeds directly lining the fence suggested a cozy resting and
hiding place for any stray wayfarer.

"There's where I was asleep, as I told you," spoke Dave's companion,
pointing to a spot where the weeds were somewhat trodden down. "And
there's the place where the coat caught. See, there's one or two
pieces of the cloth of the coat hanging in the barbs yet."

"Yes, I see," assented Dave. "Now, where did you throw the coat and
the things you found In it?"

The tramp moved about from place to place, got in line with the
fence support, and looked down into the ditch. He moved along
slowly, his eyes on the ground. Finally he stooped down.

"Here's the coat--what there's left of it," he reported. "Here's
that card, too. I can't find the pencil."

"Never mind that," replied Dave, extending his hand for the
proffered objects.

"I smoked up the cigarettes."

Dave glanced eagerly at the card. He shoved it in a safe pocket.
Then he rolled up the coat and placed it under his arm.

"Very good, very good, indeed," he said.

"Here's that dollar I promised you."

The tramp received the money, beaming all over his face.

"Say," he observed, as he moved on, "if it wasn't that you've made
me rich enough to retiree from business for a time, I'd offer to
find the owner of that coat and the fellows who were with him."

"I'll do just that," said Dave to himself in a satisfied way.

Then, his hand resting on the card in his pocket, he added:

"What luck!"

CHAPTER XIII

HIRAM DOBBS AND THE BIPLANE

Dave walked straight along the fence. By the shortest route
possible he reached the gateway entrance to the factory yard.

The tramp had put nimbly in the opposite direction. He was headed
for the nearest business street, where he could spend some of the
money that he had earned so easily.

The young aviator was very much excited. He had made certain
discoveries that had amazed him. He could not help but mentally
rejoice over the strange fortune that had come from his stray
meeting with the tramp.

"It's a clew--a sure clew," said Dave to himself. "Now to move just
right in this affair and make no mistake."

The youth crossed the grounds of the plant and again entered the
office building. He did not wait to announce himself, but, as he
reached the door of the manager's room and found it closed, he
tapped briskly.

"Come in," spoke Mr. Randolph. "Hello, you, Dashaway?"

"Yes, Sir," bowed Dave, removing his cap.

"You are back soon."

"Sooner than I planned," replied Dave, "But I--"

"You've thought the affair over, I hope?"

"Something more than that, Sir," responded Dave. "I have come to
tell you that I think I can be of some service to you about that
stolen aero-hydroplane."

"Good for you!"

"I've thought out a plan, Sir," went on Dave. "I feel certain that
the people who raided the aerodrome and made off with the Drifter
are bound for a distant and unsettled section."

"But why? What benefit can they hope to secure way off from
civilization?"

"That we have to guess at and work out," replied Dave. "I will say,
Mr. Randolph, that I think I have a faint clew to the disappearance
of the airship."

"You don't say so!"

"I shall know more inside of twenty-four hours. In fact, Mr.
Randolph, I feel pretty certain that I can soon submit a plan that
will satisfy you that I know what I am about."

"We already think that of you, Dashaway."

"And that I can bring results."

"Capital! I knew we were not mistaken in you. Now, see here, I see
you have something working in your mind. I don't want to even
hamper you by asking what it is."

"I would like to go back to Columbus on the first train, Mr.
Randolph."

"Very well."

"I want to look up some affairs there, consult with Mr. King, and
come back here the next day."

"And then?"

"I shall perhaps want to use the very best aircraft you have in your
factory."

"To hunt for the Drifter?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Dashaway, the whole plant and everything in it is at your service."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I consider this theft of the Drifter even more important than I at
first thought."

"How is that, Mr. Randolph?"

"I have been thinking that if some competitor was concerned in the
affair, he might steal and utilize many points in our new model
which are not yet protected by patents."

"I feel pretty sure that no business rival had anything to do with
the theft," observed the young aviator confidently.

"Well, you work this affair out in your own way. Remember, as I
told you, expense is no point whatever. When shall we see you
again?"

"To-morrow evening, or the next morning at the latest."

Something in Dave's manner seemed to convince the shrewd manager of
the Interstate Aeroplane Company that their young employee was
started on the right track. He shook hands cordially with Dave
when the latter left the office.

Dave went at once to the railroad depot. He learned that a train
left in two hours.

"That will bring me to Columbus before dark," he reflected. "I
wonder what Mr. King will say?"

The young aviator had a good deal on his mind, enough to make the
average lad impatient. He had, however, learned a hard lesson of
discipline with his tyrannical guardian, old Silas Warner. Then,
too, since coming under the helpful influence of Mr. King, he had
acquired a certain self reliance that now stood him in good stead.

Running an airship took nerve, steadiness of purpose, a definite,
concrete way of looking at things. Dave knew in his own mind that
the Drifter was each hour speeding farther and farther away from the
haunts of men. He recalled the old adage, however, which says "the
more haste the less speed," and he determined to stick to the plan
he had mentally outlined at the start.

"I'm going to work on this affair slow but sure," he told himself.
"I think I can guess where the Drifter is headed for. If I am
right, I know that I shall find it."

Dave reached Columbus about dark. He went straight from the depot
to the aero grounds. The plan he had formed in his mind took in a
talk with Mr. King right away. The Baby Racer hangar, however, was
on his way to the Aegis quarters. As he neared it he saw a light in
the shed where the little biplane was housed. Dave went to the half
open door of the place to find Hiram Dobbs with a lantern puttering
about the machine.

"What have you been up to, Hiram?" challenged Dave.

"Why, hello! Got back? Good!" cried Hiram, rushing forward to
warmly welcome his best friend.

"Yes, just arrived," answered Dave.

"I've been cleaning up the machine," explained Hiram. "It's old
Grimshaw's fault."

"What is?"

"Taking the Baby Racer out."

"Oh, the machine has been out, then, has it?" remarked Dave.

"Yes, and up. Say, Dave, I made the five hundred feet level. I
hope you're not put out. It was a chance to make fifty dollars."

"Fifty dollars?"

"Uh-huh," bobbed Hiram in a broad grin.

"How was that?"

"Why, Grimshaw was piloting a party over the grounds. Rich man and
his family-wife, son and two daughters. The youngest one was a
daring little miss. She wanted to fly, and would fly. Grimshaw got
to bragging about what you had done with the Baby Racer. Well,
nothing would do but I must roll the little beauty out."

"That was all right, Hiram," the young aviator hastened to say. "I
should always feel that the biplane is safe in your hands."

"Well, finally the father consented to let his daughter try a fly
along the ground. I settled her in a comfortable seat, and away we
went. I made it a good stiff run, and there was some jolting, but
the girl was wild over it. She begged for a second run. We got
such a fine start that I lifted about twenty feet in the air."

"And then, of course, she screamed out in fear?" said Dave, with a
smile.

"Screamed nothing," dissented Hiram. "She just spoke one delighted
'O-oh!' and then: 'Higher, oh, please keep on going!' Say, Dave,
she looked so bright and brave I couldn't help it--Z--I--P!"

"What does 'Z--I--P!' mean, Hiram?" asked Dave.

"A slide, a swoop, then a circle, another, a shoot upwards, and the
girl laughing out, 'Oh, this is just grand!' Her sister shrieked,
her mother fainted away, and her father was shaking his cane at us
and yelling for us to come back. The Racer did her prettiest in two
grand circles of the grounds, and came down light as a feather. The
girl jumped out, one big smile. 'Just think of it!' I heard her cry
to her sister, 'when I've told my seminary chums that I've been up
in a real airship!' The