"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 toHiram.
"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 inOhio. It was over three hundred miles from Columbus. The trainDave 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 InThe 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."
"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," suggestedDave.
"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?" challengedDave.
"That dash of yours after that Lyon order when you outwitted theStar people was simply brilliant. It showed your loyalty to us.The newspapers have given your hydroplane work so far the biggestkind 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, andI 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."
"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!"
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 oldGrimshaw'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!' Then, seeing that she was safe, I think her folks were just as proud of her exploit as she was. Anyhow, she ran up to her father in a coaxing way, and came back to place a bank note in my hand. When they were gone, and I found that it was a fifty dollar bill, old Grimshaw chuckled and said he had hinted to the party that the regular fee for a ride in an airship was one hundred dollars. I'm mighty glad you're back, Dave."
"Why, you seem to have got along finely without me," said Dave.
"We've missed you, all the same. Where you going, Dave?" askedHiram, as his friend moved out of the shed.
"Why, I'm anxious to see Mr. King as soon as I can. I have something very important to talk about with him."
"It's about that rush telegram?"
"Yes, Hiram."
"What did it mean?"
"When we meet with Mr. King you shall, hear all about it, Hiram."
"Well, Mr. King isn't home yet," explained Hiram.
Dave looked disappointed.
"That is," continued Hiram, "he hadn't got back when I was last up at the Aegis hangar."
"When was that?"
"About four o'clock this afternoon. Mr. Grimshaw, though, said he expected him on the six o'clock train."
"We'll go and see if he has returned," said Dave.
They started for the aviator's headquarters. Half the distance covered, they met him coming in search of them. Mr. King looked pale and worried. Dave knew that something had happened to upset him.
"I'm glad you're back, Dashaway," said Mr. King. "Grimshaw told me you had been called to headquarters by the Interstate people. I should have wired you to return right away if you had not returned. Something very important has transpired."
"About Mr. Dale—about my father's old friend, Mr. King?" askedDave.
"That's it exactly. Bad news, Dashaway, I'm sorry to say," announced the aviator in a very serious tone.
The aviator led the way back to the Aegis hangar. Dave saw that Mr. King was not inclined to explain any further until they were off the public course, so he asked no more questions, for the present. Dave had a good deal to tell himself. His mind had been full of it all day. Something in the grave, thoughtful manner of Mr. King, however, caused him to defer his own anxiety and impatience.
When they were inside the comfortable room where the aviator made his office, Mr. King turned to Dave with a very sober face.
"I said I had bad news, Dashaway," he spoke, "and that's no mistake."
"Then you failed to find Mr. Dale at Warrenton?" inquired Dave.
"He has not been there for over a week."
"Why, I thought he lived there?"
"He did. He went away, or was kidnapped, nearly ten days ago."
"Kidnapped?" exclaimed Dave in surprise.
"That's what I think. Mr. Dale lived alone, except for a very old man servant. As near as I can figure it out, that young thief, Gregg, appeared at Warrenton two days after I had him arrested. I did a very foolish thing in dealing with the young scamp."
"You mean letting him go free?" inquired Dave.
"Yes, I feared at the time that I was unwise in not punishing him, to serve as a lesson against more mischief. He acted so scared, though, he helped me get back the property he had stolen from you, he signed a confession telling that he was not the real Dave Dashaway and had imposed on Mr. Dale, so I thought he would proceed to at once make himself very scarce. I felt sure that he would not be able to play any more tricks on Mr. Dale, for I expected that you and I would go the very next day and see this old friend of your father. You know we were rushed from Dayton to the next meet, and had no chance to get to Warrenton and explain matters to Mr. Dale. I blame myself for not sending you at, once to him at the time. As I told you, I wrote to a friend, a lawyer at Warrenton, to learn what I could about Mr. Dale. He reported Mr. Dale was absent on a trip. When I got to Warrenton yesterday and met the old Dale servant, I saw at once that something was wrong."
"How do you mean, Mr. King?" asked Dave quite anxiously.
"Well, I learned that this young scamp, Gregg, had appeared atWarrenton two days after I let him go."
"Still pretending to be Dave Dashaway?"
"So the old servant says. Gregg and Mr. Dale went away together.There is no doubt in my mind that Gregg put up a plot to get Mr.Dale away from Warrenton before we could expose him."
"But he could not keep Mr. Dale away from home forever?"
"No, but he and his accomplices might get the old man to some remote place and make him a prisoner."
"And force him to give up a lot of money before they let him go."
"Yes, that has been done before," admitted Dave.
"Anyhow, two days alter Mr. Dale left Warrenton, a check passed through the bank signed by him for one thousand dollars."
Dave was both interested and alarmed.
"Four days ago a check for two thousand dollars arrived. The bank refused to cash it."
"Why, Mr. King?"
"Because it was a forgery."
"Not Mr. Dale's signature?"
"That's it."
"But where did the checks come from?" inquired Dave.
"From two cities, widely apart. I know the places. It looks to me as if the first check was given willingly by Mr. Dale. Then he must have become suspicious, and refused to pay out any more money. The second check was numbered correctly, and Gregg must have got possession of the old man's regular check book."
"This is a pretty serious affair, Mr. King," commented Dave.
"It is, and I came straight back here to tell you about it, and then cancel all my engagements at the meet. I shall start out at once to run down this Gregg and locate Mr. Dale."
"And I must join you-I see that it is my duty," declared Dave.
"Not at all," responded the aviator definitely. "I have mapped out the best plan of procedure, and I believe I can run down this business alone in a very short time."
Dave was really anxious concerning Mr. Dale. He truly believed it his first duty towards the old friend of his father to do all he could to assist him. For all that, Dave was relieved to know that he could go on without interruption in service of his employers.
"Yes," proceeded the aviator, "I feel that I have an interest in finding Mr. Dale. In the first place, he is your friend. Next, I feel responsible for letting that young scamp, Gregg, go free. At a selfish motive, I believe that if I succeed in rescuing the old man he will gladly finance my giant airship scheme."
"He surely will, Mr. King," said Dave confidently. "I believe he would help you, anyway. I do hope he can be found."
"I shall not rest until he is," declared the aviator. "Now, Dashaway, I don't want you to take this affair on your mind. If I fail in what I have planned, I will certainly call you into the case. I fancy, from what Hiram here has told me, that you have some important business of your own on hand."
"Yes, that is quite true," replied Dave seriously.
"Are you having some trouble with the Interstate people?" inquired the aviator pointedly.
"Not on my account, I, am glad to say, Mr. King," replied Dave. "There is some trouble, though, for all hands around. It's about the stolen aero-hydroplane, or hydro-aeroplane, they haven't just settled on the exact name."
"The Drifter?"
"Yes, sir."
"I read about that strange case. I suppose it puts you back in your arrangements at the meet here?"
"Not only that, Mr. King," explained Dave, "but it has placed me in a position where I shall have to give up all my engagements for a time."
"Why, you don't say so, Dashaway?" exclaimed the aviator, much disturbed.
"Those are the orders," replied Dave. "I have hurried back toColumbus purposely, to consult on your helping in a search for theDrifter."
"Of course that is not possible, now that this Dale affair has come up," said Mr. King. "As to a search for the stolen aircraft, that is going to be no easy task, I'm thinking. Have the Interstate people no theory as to the way the Drifter was stolen, and the motive for the theft?"
"I had better tell you all I know about it, Mr. King."
"Do so, Dashaway."
Dave proceeded to relate his interview with Mr. Randolph, the manager of the Interstate factory. He did not refer just then to his experience with the tramp.
"It's a good deal of a puzzle," commented the aviator. "What is your plan?"
"Why, I expected that I could induce you to take charge of the search. As you cannot, I am thinking of Hiram going back with me to Bolton."
"What's your idea?"
"The Interstate people have offered me their best monoplane to start the chase for the missing Drifter."
"It will be a blind start, Dashaway, without a clew."
"But I have a clew," announced Dave.
"You didn't say so."
"I hadn't come to that yet, Mr. King. I haven't even told the Interstate people. I am pretty certain that the Drifter left Bolton on a due northwest course," and Dave drew from his pocket the card he had got from the tramp.
"Capital!" cried the aviator, becoming very much interested. "If you know that, you have half solved the problem."
"Besides that," went on Dave, producing the duplicate N. A. L. badge, and glancing at the scratched initials on its back, "I know who stole the Drifter."
"What's that?" almost shouted the aviator, springing to his feet, in a great state of excitement.
"Say, Dave, are you sure?" pressed the eager Hiram Dobbs, worked up to fever heat with curiosity and suspense.
"Who was it?" asked Mr. King.
"Jerry Dawson," was Dave Dashaway's reply.
"That is the machine I want, Mr. Randolph," said Dave Dashaway.
It was two days after the young aviator had told his friends at Columbus the name of the person he suspected of stealing the aero-hydroplane, the Drifter from the Interstate Aeroplane Company.
Now, he and Hiram and the manager of the Interstate plant stood amid the half hundred or more aero machines that comprised the stock of one of the largest factories in that line in the country.
They had left the aero meet at Columbus the evening previous, not, however, until Dave had explained how he came to suspect Jerry Dawson.
"It's simple and plain, Mr. King," the young aviator had said. "The badge I bought from the tramp at Bolton was the property of young Dawson."
"Sure of that, Dashaway?" Mr. King had inquired.
"Oh, yes. The initials are crude, but they certainly stand for 'J.D.' and not 'T. O.' as the tramp thought."
An inspection of the duplicate badge by both Mr. King and Hiram satisfied them that Dave's theory was correct.
"Another thing," Dave had added—"the coat found on the barb wire top of the factory fence I have seen Jerry wear many a time."
"And the card?" pressed Hiram.
"The card has some scrawls on it, made by Jerry, I think. It shows a sort of rough outline of the upper lake district here. Some arrows show a straight course due northwest. I believe the Drifter was started on its way over the Canadian border."
"And the two men with Jerry?" asked Mr. King.
"I can't figure out that they could be anybody but Jerry's father and the man who left Columbus with them—Ridgely."
"The man the revenue officer was looking for!" exclaimed Hiram.
"The smuggler, as he was called, yes," replied Dave.
Mr. King and Hiram indulged in all kinds of conjectures as to the possible motive of the party of three in stealing the aircraft.
"The way I figure it out," said Mr. King, "is that this Ridgely wanted to get out of the country knowing that the revenue people were dose on his trail."
"Perhaps," agreed Dave thoughtfully. "There's another thing, though."
"What's that?" inquired the interested Hiram.
"His coming all the way around the lakes to find his friends, the Dawsons, looks as though he had some future scheme in view, with an airship a part of it."
"That's so," assented Mr. King. "Well, Dashaway, you have done famously so far in finding out what you have. The Interstate people think the only way to chase the fugitives is with one of their own machines. I don't know anybody better adapted to do just that than yourself."
"Thank you, Mr. King," said Dave modestly
The two boys left Columbus with pretty clear minds. They had a definite purpose in view, and Mr. King, Dave felt sanguine, would do all that the interests of Mr. Dale required while they were gone.
"Say, Dave," spoke Hiram, as they boarded the train bound forBolton, "this is just like acting out some story, isn't it?"
"In a way," acquiesced the young aviator, "only there won't be much acting—it will be real, earnest hard work."
"I see that, and I am anxious to do my share," declared Hiram.
"You always are, Hiram," said Dave.
Now, the morning following, the two aviator friends found themselves at the Interstate factory, where both received a warm welcome from Mr. Randolph.
Dave now related to the manager all that he had held back during his first visit to the great plant.
"I say, Dashaway, that's simply wonderful," was Mr. Randolph's enthusiastic comment. "Anybody with the genius to gather up all those clews cannot fail to work out this entire case. We shall soon receive some great reports from you."
"I hope so," said Dave.
"Now then, you and your friend go over to the aerodrome and see which one of our machines there suits you best."
It was after Dave and Hiram had spent the most fascinating half hour of their lives viewing the wonders of mechanism on display, that the manager rejoined them. It was then, too, that Dave reported to him with the words:
"That is the machine I want, Mr. Randolph."
As Dave spoke he pointed to a monoplane of which he had made a close inspection for over ten minutes. The manager burst out into a hearty laugh.
"Well, well!" he cried, clapping Dave on the shoulder in an approving way, "I must say you are certainly a grand judge of monoplanes."
"How is that?" asked Dave.
"You have picked out the best machine in the place."
"Why, I was looking for the best one, wasn't I, Mr. Randolph?" asked the young aviator with a smile.
"It is our new model of the composite hydro-aeroplane," explained the manager. "It's the best standard built in this country—the Monarch II."
"It's easy to see that," responded Dave. "It is the equal of theDrifter in a great many ways."
"That is true," replied Mr. Randolph. "While it may not be as swift in the water as an all-steel hydro, it is built on the best float system and will sustain a weight of one thousand three hundred pounds."
"And the front elevation and tail are also of the newest type," saidDave.
"You studied that out, eh? It's a model of lightness as such machines go. The engine is only three hundred pounds, it carries twenty gallons of gasoline, and has a lifting capacity of twelve hundred pounds, giving leeway for a three hundred pound pilot."
"Dave and I wouldn't weigh that together, Mr. Randolph," said Hiram.
"Its simplicity strikes me," remarked Dave.
"Yes," said Mr. Randolph, "and it can be knocked down and reassembled in a hurry. You see, the ailerons never leave their sections and in the planes not a wire is changed. The outriggers fold, keeping them in pairs together, each piece is bent, not buckled, and can be straightened good as new in case of a disarrangement."
The manager went over the entire machine in a speedy but expert way. He saw that all locks on the turnbuckles were fastened, and that the locks had lock washers beneath them. All the movable wires were reinforced with a piece of loose hay wire, and provisions against rust perfected.
Hiram stood mute, but fascinated, as the manager explained in detail the fine points of the Monarch II, as the composite hydro-aeroplane was named.
What interested Dave immensely was a self starting apparatus. This was operated by a handle inserted in a socket, fastened on a special ball ratchet on the large sprocket. Pulling this handle turned the motor over two, sometimes three compressions, and started up the machine without difficulty, Mr. Randolph explained. During the operation the throttle shut down so that the operator might resume his seat and take the levers.
The planes had double covered fabric on top and bottom, tightened at the rear of the planes by lacing. A single lever controlled the elevator and side flaps and there were radical bearings to take both side and end thrusts.
"Tell you, Dashaway," said Mr. Randolph in conclusion, "I'll trust you with the Monarch II because you are something more than a grass-cutting pilot by mail trying to coast a flying machine off the ground."
"I hope to deserve your compliment," laughed the young aviator.
"You've got a horse power engine and planes hard to beat. There are self-priming oil pumps, an auxiliary exhaust, and the machine follows the lines of the lowest gasoline consumption. Remember the triple axis conditions, Dashaway. One controls the fore and aft axis, producing tipping. The second is the vertical axis, producing turning. The third is the lateral axis, producing rising and falling."
"Some one at the office wishes to see Mr. Dashaway," just here interrupted a lad from the plant.
"To see me?" spoke Dave in some surprise.
"Yes, sir. He asked me to give you his card, and said he had come quite a distance to see you."
Dave took the card the lad handed him. He was a little startled, and then curious, as he read the name—
"JAMES PRICE, Revenue Officer."