CHAPTER XIII

A REMARKABLE EXPLANATION

TheArielhad found a landing place where some short crisp grass covered a spot bare of trees and rocks. Hiram brought theScoutto a halt not twenty feet away. He shut off the power, leaped out and approached Dave. The latter stood by the side of his machine watching the police officer who had run to the edge of the gully.

“Dave, this has been a startler; hasn’t it?” exclaimed Hiram.

“You are one of the wisest boys in the world,” spoke the young airman. “Without that spark signal we should never have got a start on your trail.”

“Has it done any good, after all?” questioned Hiram. “My passenger has got into deeper trouble; hasn’t he?”

“It looks that way,” answered Dave. “We saw him stumble over that ledge yonder.”

“Maybe it was a trick,” suggested Hiram. “He’s a bad one, I can tell you.”

“Here comes the policeman. Any trace of him, officer?”

The recent passenger of theAriellooked serious. He held in his hand a dark lantern, the rays of which, the others had noticed, he had been flashing over the edge of the gully.

“Got a rope?” he asked.

“I have one, in theScout. Always carry it,” volunteered Hiram briskly and he ran to his machine and returned with the coil in question.

“The fellow won’t run any further away from us this time,” advised the policeman. “He’s lying on a shelf of rock about twelve feet down. Both of you can help me.”

The boys followed him. They took a look over the edge of the gully as their leader flashed his lantern down. There, plainly visible, was the recent passenger of theScout.

“He’s insensible, or dead,” spoke the officer in a callous, professional tone. “He must have landed head first. We must get him up here. I want a look at those sparklers.”

The man’s word grated harshly on both Dave and Hiram. They proceeded, however, to follow the directions of the officer. The rope was not heavy, but was very strong, being reinforced with strands of flexible wire.

It took them nearly fifteen minutes to lower the policeman and hoist, first the injured man and then the officer, to the surface. As the fugitive lay extended motionless upon the grass the officer inspected him with the aid of the dark lantern.

“None of his limbs seem broken,” he reported, “but he got a terrific crack on his head. I’ve seen a good many cases of such hurts, and I guess this fellow has run his last race.”

“Can’t we do something for him?” asked Dave solicitously.

“Say,” broke in Hiram, “I see the lights of a settlement over to the west there. It can’t be more than a mile away.”

“You had better reach it, then,” suggested Dave.

“Yes, and get them to send a wagon, or an ambulance, for this man,” added the policeman.

Dave helped his assistant get the Scout off the ground, its pilot marking with his eye closely the main points in the landscape. Thus he would be able to pretty accurately direct those who came after the injured man. The minute the officer was satisfied that nothing could be done to add to the comfort or safety of their charge until aid arrived, he proceeded to examine the pockets of his insensible prisoner.

The young aeronaut considered this rather a heartless proceeding, but realized that the officer was acting in pursuance of his duty. Twice he wentover every pocket and possible secret hiding place in the clothing of the fugitive. He finally arose to his feet with a baffled and angry expression of face.

“He’s beat us!” he growled. “I fancied he was getting away with his booty—but it was getting away from me and my partner that he was after.”

“But what has become of the diamonds you spoke about?” queried Dave.

“Got rid of them to some partner, I suppose, before we finally ran him down,” was the explanation. “It’s too bad to miss the big reward that we’d have got.”

Hiram returned in half an hour. He had made a brief and rapid trip.

“A sheriff and his men will soon be here with an auto,” he reported, and a very few minutes after that the machine in question halted near the spot. A surgeon had accompanied the village officers. He shook his head as he looked over his patient.

“He won’t live the night out,” he announced with professional certainty. “Concussion of the brain, and a very serious case.”

The city policeman accompanied the auto back to the village. Before he did so, however, he wrote something on a card and handed it to Dave.

“If you will take that card, and your bill for the clever work you’ve done, to police headquarters, they’ll treat you right,” he said.

“Queer about those diamonds, isn’t it, Dave?” spoke Hiram as they found themselves alone with their machines. “Maybe the man dropped them in running, or they went over into that gully.”

“It would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack to try and find them,” declared the young airman.

Excitement and trying work at the wheel had worn them out considerably, and they were glad when they crept into their beds at headquarters an hour later. Hiram overslept himself. He awoke late the next morning, in the room they occupied jointly at the grounds clubhouse, to find his chum missing. He hurried his breakfast and was soon at the hangar. As he neared it he noticed some one seated on a stool inside it. Dave had theArieloutside and was tanking up with “juice,” as they called the gasoline.

“Some one to see you, Hiram,” he announced, nodding his head towards the garage.

“Who is it?” asked his mate curiously.

“He didn’t give his name, but he’s a boy. Says he knows you.”

“Is that so?” returned Hiram musingly, and advanced towards the garage. Then his face expanded in a welcoming good natured way. A ladabout his own age was seated with his back to the door and seemed to be eagerly inspecting the littleScoutand the mechanical accessories belonging to it. “Why, Bruce Beresford, hello!” Hiram shouted suddenly.

“Eh—oh, excuse me, yes, it’s me,” answered the visitor, springing up with a nervous start, and his anxious face brightened as Hiram gave his hand a friendly shake.

Hiram drew back a step or two, and with apparent admiration looked over in a quizzical way the lad he had so signally befriended in the past.

“Well,” he observed, “you’re looking more prosperous than when I last saw you.”

“Oh, yes,” replied Bruce Beresford, his whole face lighting up. “I’ve had such wonderful luck!”

“You look it, and I’m glad,” said Hiram. His friend of the swampy island certainly showed a great improvement, with good shoes on his feet, and wearing a neat suit of clothes. When Hiram had first met him Bruce had worn a big cap pulled closely down over his ears, clear to the nape of his neck. Just now, too, Hiram observed that his head back of his cheeks was well covered up. It gave Bruce a rather uncouth appearance and the young pilot of the Scout wondered why.

“I hope I’m not acting as if I was imposing on you, coming in on you in this way, and so soon,” began Bruce.

“Didn’t I invite you to do just that?” challenged Hiram.

“I know, but it looks sort of—well, cheeky, following you up when I owe so much to you as it is.”

“Don’t bother about that,” advised Hiram. “Tell me about that luck of yours. I’ll be interested.”

“Well, you know how I got little Lois comfortably settled at that children’s home at Benham. Then I started in to work. It was surprising how many little odd jobs a fellow can pick up who tries. I was just delighted, until the second day of my work when I happened to see a newspaper from Hillsboro—that is the town where Martin Dawson, the man who abused us so terribly, lives. There, in the paper, was an advertisement offering a reward for a runaway boy.”

“Meaning yourself, I suppose?” questioned Hiram.

“No one else. It scared me, I tell you, because—because,” and the speaker flushed up, and Hiram noticed that he ran his hand over the back of his head in a conscious sort of a way and seemed embarrassed. “Well, because there was a very good description of how I looked,” was added in a quick short breath.

“Thought they’d be after you, eh?” asked Hiram.

“I knew they would and that I wasn’t safe in that section,” proceeded Bruce. “I felt sure that sooner or later some one would suspect or identify me. It wasn’t safe for my sister. I didn’t know what to do, for what little I had earned wouldn’t take us far. Then came my big luck,” and the face of the speaker became radiant.

“Tell it,” directed Hiram, on the edge with curiosity.

“Some one had stolen an automobile from the village banker,” went on Bruce. “I had heard of it. I had read the posters giving the number and make of the machine, and offering a hundred dollars as a reward for its recovery. Just think of it! that very day an invalid lady I had chopped some wood for, asked me if I could get her a bunch of water lilies. I made a few inquiries of some boys I met. They directed me to a swamp about two miles from the town. I found a fine bed of the lilies, and was wading out with an armful, when down among a nest of reeds, where it had been run by the ride-stealers was the missing automobile.”

“That was fine,” remarked Hiram. “I guess you got back to town on the double quick.”

“I did for a fact,” agreed Bruce. “And inside of two hours I had the reward in my pocket. Oh but I felt rich! I went to the matron of the home and told her my whole story for the first time. She not only thought I had better get Lois to some safer place, and further away from Hillshore, but gave me a letter to a relative living on a farm near Chicago. I got some new clothing for my sister and myself, left Lois with the kind-hearted lady who was only too glad to take her in at two dollars a week, and her help around the house, and hunted down the address you gave me. You see—you see,” concluded Bruce longingly, “I wanted advice.”

“What about?” inquired Hiram.

“Well I’ve got over fifty dollars to invest. There’s a good deal moving around this place. You spoke of a friend, a Mr. Dashaway, and I thought——”

“Yes, that’s my chum, Dave,” interrupted Hiram proudly,—“the most level headed fellow who ever lived. Dave!”

Hiram called his chum and there was an introduction. An explanation followed. The pilot of theArielsoon had a knowledge of all the circumstances of the case. He and Hiram had seated themselves on a bench opposite their guest. It was warm weather and both threw off their caps. Bruce hesitated and then followed their example, but in an awkward and confused way.

“Why,” exclaimed Hiram with a start, as he noticed that under his cap their visitor wore a close fitting skull cap—“what’s that for?”

Bruce Beresford fidgeted. He seemed at a loss for an explanation. Then he scanned the friendly face of Dave, and the good natured one of his assistant.

“Well, it’s my ears,” he said, slowly, evidently embarrassed.

“Your ears; what about them?” asked Dave, curiously.

“They’ve been cut,” explained the orphan. “And they’re not healed yet. I keep them covered up to keep out the germs the doctor said were floating in the air. But they’re getting better now.”

He took off the skull cap and showed where both ears presented a red surface.

“How in the world did that happen?” asked Hiram. “Have you been playing football?”

THE NEW HELPER

Bruce replaced the cap back over his injured ears and smiled at his two friends.

“No, not exactly football,” he replied. “It was worse than that.”

“Whew!” whistled Dave. “You must have been ‘up against it,’ as Borden would say.”

“Up against a grindstone; yes,” assented Hiram. “Go ahead, Bruce, and let’s hear about it.”

“It’s a long story about how my father died, and how Martin Dawson got hold of his estate,” began the homeless orphan. “I’ll tell you all the particulars of that some time, and maybe you can advise me, and help us to get our rights. Old Martin Dawson has treated me meanly. He hired me out to all kinds of hard work, and half-starved me, and kept me in rags. As I told Hiram when I first met him, Mr. Dawson had a regular set of bad men around him. They were all rough characters. There was one fellow who traveled with circus shows. His name was Wertz. It was about twoyears ago when Mr. Dawson farmed me out to him. Wertz tried to train me for the trapeze, but I wasn’t limber enough for that. Then he said he would use me in his knife-throwing act. He made me stand against a wooden shield while he threw knives at me. I’ve got two bad scars on my body now, where he missed, and the knives cut into me. Then one day when practicing he clipped off a little piece of my right ear. I ran away from him then, but he got me back. I made him agree that after that he wouldn’t aim at my head, only my arms and the rest of my body. One night at a circus, though, he got reckless. He aimed at my ear—the left one—intending to set a circle of knives all around my head. One clipped my other ear, as you have seen. It hurt dreadfully, and I fainted away. The audience was roused up about it, and the humane society got after Wertz and he ran away. Then I went back to Mr. Dawson. A doctor fixed up my ears, but they are not quite healed yet.”

This story aroused the sympathy and interest of Dave, and he decided to employ Bruce. The watchman, Dennis, was called away by a partner to a country fair and Bruce was installed as watchman in his place. The young airman knew he could trust him and he found Bruce willing and grateful.

“You see,” proceeded Hiram, “it’s only six days to the meet. Monday the contests begin, and we want to get everything in ship-shape order.”

“That is true,” agreed Dave. “What is it you have to suggest, Hiram?”

The latter drew from his pocket a double printed sheet and handed it to Dave.

“I got one of the first programmes,” explained Hiram.

Dave scanned it casually. He had been informed in advance, as had most of the entrants, of the nature of the various contests. Towards the last, however, something new and unexpected met his glance.

“‘Mail delivered—twenty stations, minimum altitude two hundred feet’—what does that mean?” and he looked keenly at his assistant as the latter began to laugh and chuckle.

“That, Dave,” answered Hiram with a great deal of satisfaction, and some pride—“that means me.”

“Oh!” observed quick-witted Dave, thinking back, and guessing hard, “those leather bags——”

“You’ve hit it,” acquiesced Hiram. “The idea came to me while we were practicing at the Midlothian field. I reckoned it wouldn’t be hard to work up the management to including a mail delivery feature in the programme, so I set to practicing. And I’ve been at it on the sly ever since,” added the speaker with a laugh.

“Go ahead, Hiram,” encouraged Dave. “You don’t usually stop half way, and you have got more than that to tell.”

“Why, yes, I have,” admitted Hiram. “When I was a boy—I mean a real little fellow—I was always good at pitching quoits, and such things. I was the local champion at ‘Duck on the Rock.’ I saw an article in the newspapers discussing the idea of establishing an airship route to deliver mail bags. I practiced. First, Dave, I was going to tell you, and have you work up the idea. Then I thought how busy you were and—well, I’ll wager you I can win the twenty point score on the mail feature over anybody in the contest.”

“Well; twenty points isn’t to be sneezed at,” commented Dave briskly. “It may be a saving clause for us.”

“I suggested that programme number to the management,” went on Hiram. “I showed them the newspaper article about it. Now of course a lot of fellows will be getting in trim for it, but don’t forget that I have had three weeks’ practice ahead of them. Oh, Dave, I forgot till now—another thing: I met the policeman you took in theArielafter that diamond robber.”

“What did he say, Hiram?”

“The man died without coming back to consciousness. Those diamonds will never be found now, unless they locate the partner he passed them to.”

“Have you seen anything of Borden lately?” asked Dave.

“I’ve seen him, in fact I’ve passed right by him at the Syndicate camp half a dozen times, but he turns away, or scowls at me. It’s part of his ‘acting’ you know. He isn’t ready to report to us yet, but I know he will when he is ready to do us some good.”

Dave went away alone an hour later for a flight with theArielover the sand dunes.

“It’s a good time to clean house,” suggested Dave to Hiram, before leaving, and the latter and Bruce, following his orders, cleared out a lot of rubbish that obstructed the garage space. This they proceeded to burn up.

“Here’s a box with a lot of catalogues, and some papers in it,” said Bruce, lifting the article from the top of a barrel.

“Dump them into the fire,” ordered Hiram.

“Maybe they are some good,” suggested Bruce, looking over the litter, and then he uttered so strange a cry that Hiram regarded him curiously.

Bruce had taken from the box and unrolled a sheet of manilla paper. It was the one which bore the crayon portrait of the man who had tried to blow up the two airships at the Midlothian grounds.

“Hiram,” spoke Bruce in a quick troubled tone, “where did you get this? I know that man!”

“You do!” exclaimed Hiram, pressing closely to his side. “Who is he?”

“It’s the man I told you about—the knife-thrower, Wertz,” was Bruce Beresford’s reply.

A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY

“Are you sure, Bruce?” challenged Hiram. “You are not mistaken?”

“In that man?” cried his companion, and his face was pale, and his voice was trembling. “Oh, no! it makes me shudder to even look at his picture. Where did you get it?”

“Well, Bruce,” explained Hiram, “that is the man you heard Dave and myself talking about.”

“You mean the one who tried to blow up your machine?”

“That’s him; yes,” answered Hiram. “But, say, I thought he was hanging around with that old fellow, your guardian?”

“He was,” replied Bruce. “You see, he came and went. About two weeks ago I was in dread when Wertz showed up. I imagined he’d be putting me into some new circus training or other. I was afraid he might get it into his head to take Lois away, and train her to ride a horse bareback, or jump through a blazing hoop, or some other trick.I never was so relieved as when he went away again. He’d been waiting for some one to come, I heard. An old crony of his showed up finally, a man who used to come every few months to borrow money, ‘to get staked,’ as he called it; by Mr. Dawson. He was always planning schemes. Why, say,” added Bruce with animation, “I never thought of it till this moment, but I remember now he was in the same line as you and Dave Dashaway.”

“You mean the airship line?” asked Hiram.

“That’s it. I recollect how he used to brag of the big flights he made, and the money he got, and the tricks he played.”

“Who was he—what was his name?” inquired Hiram.

“Vernon.”

Hiram Dobbs grabbed the astonished Bruce by the arm with such fervor that the latter was startled.

“Look here, Bruce,” he cried excitedly, “you don’t know how important this is to us. Why, it connects up the whole scheme to put us out of business, and——”

Something else suddenly distracted Hiram’s attention and he stopped short, his companion staring at him in wonderment.

“Hush! This way, and easy!” a breathless voice had spoken, and a face appeared around the end of the hangar.

“Mr. Borden,” whispered Hiram to himself. “Stay here Bruce. It’s a great friend of ours.”

It was indeed the tramp-artist who had so unexpectedly appeared. As Hiram came around to the side of the hangar, shielded from the other camps of the field, he found Borden there, looking anxious, and glancing about him as if fearful of being observed by others.

“Quick, Dobbs,” he spoke hurriedly, “where is Dashaway?”

“Dave isn’t around. Did you want to see him? He’s off on a practice flight.”

“How long since?”

“About an hour ago.”

Borden looked disappointed and dismayed. He rubbed his chin in perplexity. Then he asked:

“Do you know where he is?”

“I think I do,” answered Hiram. “He usually goes to the sand dunes about thirty miles down the lake shore.”

“Got your machine, theScout, handy here?” asked Borden, with increasing urgency.

“Oh, yes—why, Mr. Borden?”

“Then don’t delay a minute,” directed the former tramp, earnestly. “Find Dashaway as speedily as you can. Tell him I came to you. Warn him to get back here, and stay close about the grounds for the next day or two. There’s danger! Don’t neglect what I say.”

With these last words Borden, with a nervous glance across the grounds, at some persons approaching, suddenly darted away from Hiram. In a quandary of doubt and dread, the latter stood for a moment or two watching his movements. Borden walked along near the fence and disappeared behind the next hangar. Then Hiram aroused himself into action. He ran back in front of their own hangar and rolled out the Scout.

“Bruce,” he said hurriedly, “something’s up that may mean trouble for Dave. I’ve got to go after him. Do you want to go with me?”

“I should say I did!” cried his companion eagerly. “Jump in,” ordered Hiram. “Give us a lift,” he called out to a passing guard. “Thanks. Now then, to find Dave!”

The manner and words of the young pilot of theScoutconvinced Bruce that something was wrong. He asked no questions, however. As they got into full flight, due south, Hiram was the first to speak.

“You’re our friend, Bruce,” he called back over his shoulder, “and I know you’re interested in anything concerning us or our business. The man who signaled me to the side of the hangar was the man who drew that picture of Wertz.”

“And he’s a friend of yours, too; isn’t he?” inquired Bruce.

“I am sure that he is,” responded Hiram. “He’s acted like one just now, if what he told me is true. He has discovered some new plot against us and has sent me to warn Dave, and tell him to get back to the grounds right away, and stay there.”

“I do hope nothing is wrong, and that you will be in time,” remarked Bruce anxiously.

Hiram drove theScoutto its best paces. He was familiar with the route Dave usually took to reach the sand dunes. There was one especial reach of the sterile stretch which Dave had, so to speak, appropriated as his own private training grounds.

“We’re nearly there,” announced Hiram finally. “I don’t see any trace of Dave or theAriel, though.”

“Maybe he went further—maybe he has returned home,” suggested Bruce.

“We could hardly miss him,” answered Hiram. “There’s the spot where Dave usually descends,” and he fixed his glance on a patch of stunted field poplars. “There’s something lying on the ground. A man? No, a coat, I think,” and the speaker strained his vision, and set theScouton a sharp volplane.

He jumped out the moment the machine halted. He ran to the spot where the object lay that had attracted his attention. Bruce followed his example and dashed after him.

“It’s Dave’s coat,” declared Hiram, and he looked worried. “I can’t understand it! The coat is torn and some of the buttons are off—see, on the sand there. He wouldn’t leave it here. What can have become of him, and the machine?”

“There’s a smell of burned wood, or smoke,” here broke in Bruce, and following the scent he rounded the patch of brush and saplings. “Oh, Hiram!” he shouted. “Come here! Come here!”

The young pilot of theScoutreached the side of the staring Bruce to observe with distended eyes what his new friend had first discovered.

Upon the ground was a mass of charred and twisted wreckage. Only the metal parts of an airship remained. Hiram Dobbs recognized what was left of the buoyantAriel!

IN DOUBT

Hiram Dobbs sank down on the sand beside the wreck of theArieland tears came into his eyes. In a flash the truth dawned upon him. Vandal hands had destroyed the flying marvel upon which such hopes had been built. Dave had been tracked to the present spot and captured; perhaps hurt.

Bruce Beresford stood regarding his new friend, sharing his deep emotion. He rammed his hands into his pockets and clenched them, pacing about the spot to give Hiram time to regain his composure. Finally he walked up to him and touched him on the shoulder.

“Don’t take on so, Hiram,” he pleaded, “please don’t. It may not be theAriel, you know——”

“Not theAriel,” cried Hiram, springing to his feet, his tears becoming angry tears now. “Think I wouldn’t know theArielif I came across one spar, or rod of it in the desert of Sahara? TheAriel? Look there!”

The speaker pointed to a place in the blackened twisted mass near the pilot post. A silver plate there bore in script the name of the machine, date and maker. Blackened and abrased as it was Bruce was able to make out the inscription.

“It’s too bad,” he said sorrowfully. “Do you suppose something exploded and set it on fire?”

“No!” shouted Hiram wrathfully, now poking in among the debris. “I can smell kerosene. And there’s the cinders of a bunch of cotton waste. TheArielwas set on fire! And—Dave!”

The thought of his missing friend roused the young pilot of theScoutas no other idea could have done. Bruce was glad to see Hiram come back to his old rushing, go-ahead self. Hiram went back to the coat they had at first discovered. He inspected it more closely this time.

“See, it’s torn as if in a struggle, and the pockets are turned inside out,” he said. “Oh, if we had only received the warning from Mr. Borden sooner! Dave is gone. The same persons who expected him here, and watched for him, have taken him away.”

“But surely they would not dare to injure him,” argued Bruce.

“Perhaps not, but don’t you see that they have spoiled his whole future? They have put his biplane out of the way—they will keep Dave out of the way till the International meet is over.”

“The crowd you told me about—the Syndicate people?” asked Bruce.

“Who else? What will Mr. Brackett say when he hears of this? How am I going to find out where they have taken Dave? Oh!” cried the excited lad, “I’m just half crazy over these doings! Wait here and watch theScout. They’ll be after that next,” and Hiram sped away, after a sweeping glance in every direction.

He had made out a man with a rake covering the ruts in the straggly winding road that ran across the waste space. He came up with him and asked:

“Have you been here long?”

“All day, here and hereabouts,” was the reply, as the worker rested on his rake and seemed glad to break the monotony of his task in that lonely spot by talking to some one.

“Did you notice an airship within the last hour or so?”

“I did,” answered the old man. “It was over to the north yonder. It did some fancy whirls. I watched it a bit, then I went on with my work. They’re getting common, those flyers.”

“Have you seen anybody over near that clump of poplars?” and Hiram indicated the spot where he had left Bruce and theScout.

“Why, yes, I did,” answered the road-mender. “Thought it was sort of queer, too. It must have been nigh onto two hours since, when three men, driving a covered wagon, drove off from the road here. They cut across in the direction you say. I wondered why, for the loose sand don’t make easy going for a horse. The hummocks shut them out after a bit, and I thought no more of them until I noticed a lot of smoke near that patch of poplars. I then made up my mind they were campers, come down on a sand-crane hunt.”

“Did you see them after that?” inquired Hiram eagerly.

“I did. Next thing I knew, the horse and wagon cut across back this way. They struck the road here, and went south, the same direction they had come from.”

“Did you notice the men on the seat of the wagon?”

“They weren’t near enough for that, and I’m sort of poor sighted as I get older,” was the reply.

Hiram thanked the man, and hurried back to Bruce.

“I hope you have found out something,” said the latter anxiously.

“Not much that is any good, I fear,” replied Hiram. “We’ll get back into the Scout. It’s just as I guessed it, Bruce. I am satisfied that a covered wagon with three men in it took Dave away and that they went south.”

The country lay under them like a map as they resumed the flight. Hiram followed the road as a guide. At the end of ten miles it ran into a junction of other diverging highways. So far they had not caught sight of any vehicle answering the description of the covered wagon.

They followed the main highway for some distance. Ahead they made out a large town. It was one of half a score dotting the landscape, and the location of large iron plants. As they neared it, and passed roads filled with all kinds of vehicles, and the great industrial beehive spread out for miles, Hiram gave up in despair.

“They’ve got a start of us, and have probably run to cover by this time,” he said. “Oh, Bruce! I don’t know what to do!”

Hiram was in deep distress. He realized that he, only a boy, had on his hands a task that might well baffle the shrewdest detective. A dozen impulses and plans came to his mind, but he rejected them all, fearing to cause complications.

“Indeed, I don’t know what to do,” he said to Bruce. “If I go to the management back at the grounds, they may cancel our entrant, and then Dave may show up. They will want some evidence besides my say so, and my suspicions, before they will be willing to accuse anybody of having a hand in the affair. If I charge that Syndicate mob boldlywith having a hand in the burning of theAriel, it will put them more than ever on their guard, and they will hide Dave closer than ever. Oh, but I must do some tall thinking! Of course the very next thing is to get in touch with Mr. Brackett. We’ll get back to the grounds right away.”

An unexpected shower came up, and pilot, passenger and machine received quite a drenching. The rain had stopped by the time they reached the grounds. It made Bruce Beresford sad to watch the face of his friend. Hiram was like a rudderless boat, without Dave. The responsibilities suddenly thrust upon him seemed to stagger him. He was so harried, worried and flurried that he walked up and down before the hangar, so nervous and stirred up he could not keep still.

“It seems to me, Hiram,” suggested Bruce, “that the best thing to do is to tell the management about the whole business. Surely they will do something to help you.”

“I’m trying to think if it’s best to do that,” responded Hiram. “I’m trying to block out a way to act so I won’t make any mistake. You don’t know this game as well as I do. It isn’t the first time this kind of a thing has happened to us. Let me alone for a bit, Bruce, till I get everything straightened out in my mind.”

“Don’t you bother about theScout, Hiram. I’ll clean up and get it into the hangar,” said Bruce.

He rubbed the metal parts dry and shining and swept up the litter in the cockpit. A good deal of sand had gotten into this. He was pulling out the seat cushions, when something caught his finger, pricking it sharply. It was a metal point of some kind, and looking closer Bruce made out that it was a stick pin.

He picked this up, and as he did so noticed a second pin lying on the seat frame, hitherto concealed by the cushion. A quick flash of intelligence came into his mind. Quite roused up, Bruce shouted to his friend:

“Hiram, come here, I think I’ve made an important discovery!”

TROUBLE

It was hard for the young pilot of the Scout to set his mind upon anything outside of his missing chum. As Hiram approached Bruce, however, it was quite natural that he should be attracted by two dazzling sparks of flashing light.

“Diamonds!” cried Bruce, moving the two pins about so as to display their brilliancy to advantage.

“Sure as you live!” agreed Hiram. “Where did you get them?”

“I found them behind, and under the cushion of the cockpit seat. Don’t you understand, Hiram?”

“How they got there? I don’t.”

“Why, it’s clear, to my way of thinking. The man the police chased, who made you take him in theScout——”

“Why, say, that may be so,” agreed Hiram with a start. “He must have been loaded with them, to drop them around promiscuously that way.”

“They slipped from his pocket probably,” explained Bruce. “I don’t believe he had got rid ofhis plunder, as the police think, when he made for theScout. I believe he had them with him, else what are these pins doing here? Hiram, you said it was Wayville, didn’t you? That was the town nearest to the place where the robber fell into the gully.”

“You’ve remembered it so pat you must have heard of it before,” suggested Hiram, with a shrewd glance at his companion.

“That’s so,” answered Bruce. “I was there once. It was when the circus man, Wertz, was in hiding. I was traveling with him then. He and some other men at the show robbed an old farmer, and had to get out of the way. It was near Wayville that we stayed for a week, till things ‘blew over,’ as they called it. In fact, when you described that thicket and the gully, it came right back to me, as natural as life. It’s set me thinking, Hiram. I’ve got a theory, somehow, that the diamond thief got rid of his plunder after he left theScout.”

“Shouldn’t wonder,” remarked Hiram rather indifferently, “but we’ll talk about that some other time. My mind is full of nothing but Dave and theArieljust now. I’ve decided what I’m going to do, and you are to help me do it, if you will.”

“I’m glad, Hiram,” responded Bruce readily. “I’ll work my finger nails off to be of any use to you, or your partner.”

“I know that, Bruce,” said Hiram, “and I know that I can trust you, which is a great relief to me now, when I’m in such trouble. Bring that bench out of the hangar, will you?”

“What for, Hiram?” asked Bruce in some wonder.

“I want to have a long talk with you, and I want to sit here in the open while we’re at it, so we can watch out that no one hears us.”

Bruce brought out the bench, setting it near theScout, and facing the grounds in such a way that they could see in three directions. Hiram’s face wore a serious, business-like look as he sat down beside his young friend.

“Maybe I’ve got it all wrong,” he began, “but I’ve tried to imagine just what level-headed Dave Dashaway would do if he were in my fix. Of course I haven’t got his brains or smartness, but I know one thing—he wouldn’t get rattled. So I’m trying not to fly all to pieces and do all kinds of rash things. There’s two men I want to see and get word to.”

“Who are they?” inquired the interested Bruce.

“First, Mr. Brackett.”

“Oh, sure, him!” exclaimed Bruce. “I’ve thought that all along.”

“He’s the head of all our plans,” went on Hiram. “He’s a good business man, he’s rich and powerful, and he’d know how to handle this muddle better than I. Mr. Brackett must be seen, and you can get ready to take the first train for the town where he has his plant, Bruce.”

This looked like a pretty important mission to Bruce. He was silent, however, as his companion proceeded:

“You are to see Mr. Brackett, tell him everything that has occurred, and ask him to send me instructions as to what I am to do. He will probably come right back with you. I hope so. There’s a train leaving here inside of two hours. You will get to the little Ohio town where the Aero plant is located by early morning. Then, I suppose, Mr. Brackett will wire me.”

“See here, Hiram,” interposed Bruce, “do you think it’s as good for me to go as yourself? There’s lots of things in detail about the plots that have been working against you that I don’t know about and you do.”

“No,” answered Hiram definitely, “I can’t go. As I told you, there were two men to see about this affair.”

“Yes, I remember. Who is the other one?”

“Mr. Borden.”

“Oh, I see,” said Bruce promptly. “Yes, indeed. If he’s the true-blue fellow you think he is he can do something to help you.”

“He gave us that warning,” remarked Hiram. “He knew that something was going to happen. He was on the watch for our benefit.”

“But Mr. Borden doesn’t dare to show himself here and you can’t go to the Syndicate camp,” argued Bruce.

“I’ve got to see that man just as soon as I possibly can,” said Hiram, his eyes snapping with determination. “You leave that to me. I’ve got to go down to the offices of the meet for some money. You get ready to start for the train as soon as I come back.”

Bruce smiled to himself as he proceeded to “get ready.” His wardrobe was not very extensive, and he could pack in his pockets the extra collars and handkerchiefs that comprised it. Hiram came back in half an hour, and handed him some bills.

“Here’s a time-table,” he added. “I shall be anxious till I hear from you.”

“Say, Hiram,” said Bruce, “that fellow, Valdec——”

“Yes, what about him?” demanded the young airman, sharply.

“He strolled by here while you were gone. He was with one of the crowd that hangs around their camp. He looked at me and scowled. Then he grinned.”

“I’ll go with you down to the train,” said Hiram. “Then I’ll know what he was grinning about, or my name isn’t Dobbs!”

The boys kept their eyes open on the way to the railroad depot. No one of the Syndicate crowd seemed to be following, or watching them, however.

“Tell Mr. Brackett everything, Bruce,” directed Hiram, “and get me word just as soon as you can.”

“Hope for the best, Hiram,” said Bruce cheeringly. “There’s surely some way out of this trouble for two smart fellows like you and Dave Dashaway.”

Hiram waved his hand in adieu to Bruce as the train started. Then Hiram proceeded back to the hangar, his lips compressed and his face looking resolute.

“Now to wait until dark!” grimly soliloquized the young pilot of theScout.

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