CHAPTER VIIITHE RIVAL AIRSHIP
“A rival in the field?” said the young aviator, with a good deal of interest and curiosity.
“Yes,” nodded Mr. King. “It isn’t that I didn’t expect it. We have no exclusive patent on building an airship and trying to cross the Atlantic. We do want to know what we have to fight against, though.”
“Yes, it is always best to find out what your competitors are doing,” agreed Dave.
“Well, there are several we have run down and dismissed from our minds. Two-thirds of them are cranks seeking notoriety. Some of the others are inventors who know all about mechanics, but nothing practical concerning aircraft. It would amuse you to go over some of the wild schemes they are getting up. One proposition has kept me busy thinking.”
“What is that, Mr. King?”
“You remember a man named Davidson?”
“Why, certainly,” responded the young aviator at once. “He is the fellow they ran out of the Springfield aero meet.”
“That’s the man,” assented Mr. King, “an unscrupulous trickster. He has been tabooed by all legitimate airmen, but he has bobbed up again with his old-time nerve and audacity. Look there.”
The aviator selected a bunch of newspaper clippings from a drawer in his desk, and pushed them over to his young friend.
Dave scanned them rapidly. An item hinted mysteriously at a grand exploit in aeronautics about to be undertaken by the “celebrated” airman, Roger Davidson. A later article purported to show the possibility of sailing a dirigible balloon across the Atlantic.
A column story followed. It referred to the great interest in the international exploit, and named the rich prize ready for the successful competitor. It was understood that Roger Davidson was preparing to enter the race, and a superb aircraft was being built for him at an aero plant at Senca.
“I suppose you remember that Jerry Dawson and his father were in the employ of Davidson for a time, Mr. King?” observed Dave.
“I recall it perfectly,” nodded the aviator.
“And Jerry being here to-night shows they are together again.”
“It looks that way. As long as they only try to steal our thunder I don’t so much mind,” remarked the airman. “It may be the start for something worse, you see. I am tied up here with Leblance. I want you to ferret out the Davidson crowd and find if they are really up to something.”
“I can do that,” assured the young aviator, confidently.
“None better, I know. Get their line-up, Dashaway. Find out if they are really in earnest, or only jockeying for notoriety, or fleecing some gullible promoter.”
“All right,” agreed Dave; and that settled it with Mr. King, who had full confidence in the shrewd wits and fidelity of the boy he had taught to fly.
Dave was to start for Senca the next evening. He passed a glorious morning at the aerodrome. The French inventor was one of the most interesting men he had ever met. Leblance was all business, but very enthusiastic and optimistic in his work. He took a fancy to Dave, and told him things about transatlantic aircraft and airmen that were part of an actual education to the young aspirant for aeronautic honors.
The construction of theAlbatrosshad progressed far enough to show a practical form and substance. No expense was being spared. Themen under Leblance were experts in their line, and Dave was amazed at the details they were working out.
“It’s money well invested,” declared Mr. Dale, “if it only serves to produce the most perfect airship ever built.”
“Why, if they put all the things in theAlbatrossthey count on,” said Dave, “it will be like a trip on a high-class ocean steamship!”
“Wait till she’s done, my friend,” observed Leblance. “We shall see—and we shall cross the Atlantic; oh, never fear.”
Grimshaw and Hiram put in an appearance by noon. The latter went wild over theAlbatross. He believed implicitly in Dave, and the young aviator believed in the giant airship under construction.
“If they let me go on that trip,” said Hiram, breathlessly, “I’ll be the proudest and the happiest fellow in the world.”
“You are going, if any of us do,” promised Mr. King, and the delighted Hiram moved about as if he was treading on air.
Mr. King went down to the train with Dave.
“Don’t run into any danger, Dashaway,” he advised. “You are going to deal with a wicked-tempered crowd, remember that.”
“I shall remember,” promised Dave; “and profit by your warning.”
Hiram was rather lonesome over the absence of his friend the next day. The ensuing one he got restless and anxious.
“I tell you what,” he said, confidently to Grimshaw the next afternoon; “if Dave don’t show up soon, I’m going after him.”
“Dashaway knows how to take care of himself—trust him for that,” insisted the old airman.
“Well, I can’t stand this worry. If he don’t come by to-morrow, I’m going to look him up.”
Grimshaw said nothing to this. He was, in fact, also a trifle disturbed over the prolonged absence of Dave. His grim face relaxed into genuine relief and gladness that evening, as, just after dusk, the young aviator broke in upon the airship group.
Dave was brisk and cheery as usual, and all hands gave him a cordial greeting. Mr. King and Leblance were eager to hear his report at once.
“Well,” said Dave, “I’ve found out about all there is to discover down at Senca.”
“Does it amount to anything?” inquired the aviator.
“That’s for you and Mr. Leblance to say.”
“Run across that fine specimen of humanity, young Dawson?” asked Grimshaw, in a kind of a growl.
“He had been sent to New York for some balloon material,” explained Dave, “so I got along finely, for Davidson doesn’t know me by sight. Sure enough, they are building a dirigible balloon,” continued Dave. “They’ve found a backer who has put up several thousand dollars. They talk big of how sure they are of reaching Liverpool in a week’s time,” and Dave smiled.
“What are you smiling at, Dashaway?” inquired Mr. King.
“You would smile if you saw the craft they are building,” declared Dave. “To tell you the truth, I can’t get away from the suspicion that the whole thing is what people call a fake.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I had no trouble in getting into their workroom. The way they act, the machine they’re getting up—well, I almost made up my mind that Davidson is doing all this to get some of the promoter’s easy money. If theDictatorever sails a hundred miles, let alone a thousand, it will be doing well.”
“What kind of a craft is thisDictator?” inquired Leblance, with professional interest.
“I’ll show you,” said Dave, feeling in his pocket. “The fact is, I gave those fellows tit for tat.”
“As how?” questioned the curious Hiram.
“Well, they stole a photograph of theAlbatross. I had the chance to draw a picture of the Dictator, and here it is.”
The young aviator produced a paper roll from his pocket. Dave was a natural draughtsman. As he spread out the paper a well-traced penciled outline was revealed.
“Let me see it,” spoke Leblance, eagerly. “Ah, you have done well.”
The keen eyes of the French inventor scanned the drawing intently. Then, suddenly and with great excitement of manner, he threw it upon the table.
“Preposterous!” he exclaimed. “Nonsense! Absurd! My friend King, we have nothing to fear. TheDictatoris a botch, a farce. Whoever constructed it is a novice, a dabbler! That machine could not fly ten miles!”