The manager of the Interstate factory and Dave and Hiram followed the messenger from the plant back to the office.
"The gentleman who wishes to see me," the young aviator explained toMr. Randolph, "is the revenue officer I told you about."
"Ah, I think I understand the purpose of his visit, then," said the manager.
Mr. Price was the same keen-faced, ferret-like person he always appeared, as Dave introduced him to the manager.
"I have heard of you from our young friend, Dashaway," said Mr.Randolph.
"Lucky I ran across him," responded the officer, in his usual short, jerky way. "Lucky to catch you here, too, before you got off, Dashaway."
"Then you came specially to see me?" asked Dave.
"And your friends," replied Mr. Price with a comprehensive wave of his hand. "Mutual interests all around, it seems. You see, I met Mr. King at Columbus after you left," explained the official. "He told me of your remarkable discoveries, Dashaway. You are keener than I, young man. I have been chasing all over the district, and here you get a clew to Ridgely, while I and my men were blundering around."
"If it is really a dew to him, Mr. Price," submitted the young aviator. "You know, it is all a theory so far."
"As the facts stand, I have no doubt from your story that Ridgely is one of the men who ran away with the Drifter," declared the officer.
"Have you fathomed his purpose in taking the air route, Mr. Price?" asked the factory manager.
"Most certainly."
"I am puzzled to guess what it may be."
"Why, it's plain as the nose on your face," said the officer bluntly.
"How is that?"
"You know that this man, Ridgely, is a professional smuggler?"
"So Dashaway has told me."
"We drove him from one point on the border. He has selected another, that's all. He has worn out the old methods of evading the revenue service, so he is adopting new ones. In fact, I rather admire his brilliant originality. Why, I can conceive no situation so ideal as that capture of an airship, and professional operators in his employ."
"Then—"
"I am positive that the Dawsons and Ridgely have made for some obscure point, probably near Lake Superior, and will open up business in the old way, do their work only at night, and I have come on here to ask Dashaway to work in harmony with me."
"Most certainly he will," pledged the factory manager.
"I am after Ridgely, you are after your aircraft. We can work together," pronounced the officer. "I intend to start at once for the Lake Superior district. I shall set my men at work clear along the line and over the border, to try and find a trace of my man. I haven't an airship, though, you must remember, and wouldn't know how to run one if I had. That's where you come in, Dashaway. You search the air, I'll watch the land. What I want to do is to give you a list of points where I or my men can be reached at a moment's notice any time. If we keep in touch with each other, I believe we can land those rascals."
For over an hour after that the officer and Dave had an earnest, confidential chat together. Mr. Price brought out maps, and gave Dave great deal of information as to the smuggling system on the border. In the meantime, Randolph and Hiram again visited the aerodrome. After the revenue officer had departed, Dave came across Hiram looking for him.
"Say, Dave," exclaimed the excited youth, "it's like a new world to me, all this. I declare, I never had such a time in my life. This Mr. Randolph is a prince."
"Fixed things up for us, has he, Hiram?"
"Right royally. He's stocked up that monoplane like a banquet hall. Why, say, if we can keep the Monarch II aloft, we can live like millionaires in an up-to-date hotel for a week to come."
Hiram in his enthusiasm was exaggerating things considerably.However, when Dave revisited the aerodrome, he found that the cleverInterstate manager had stocked up the aircraft, with every necessityfor safety and comfort he could think of.
The Monarch II was certainly a marvel in its construction and scope. It had been made to accommodate an operator and one, or even two, passengers. The seating space was quite roomy, and there was a handy basket-like compartment, arranged to hold wraps, provisions and duplicate machine parts.
It was late in the afternoon when the Monarch II was rolled out into the broad roomy yard of the factory. Everything was in order for the finest start in the world. Dave had thought out and mapped out every detail of the proposed air voyage. Mr. Randolph personally superintended all the initial arrangements. The starter worked liked a charm. There was no wavering. A turn of the handle, and the magnificent machine spread its wings like some great bird poised for a steady flight.
Hiram gave a great shout of delight. Dave smiled down at the manager proudly.
"Good luck!" cried Mr. Randolph.
Just then the factory whistle sounded out shrilly for quitting time. Workmen appeared at the open windows of the factor. Some came running out into the yard.
The word had gone around that the young aviators were bound on an extraordinary cruise—a search for the stolen airship. A great chorus of ringing hurrahs went up from the crowd.
"It's great, isn't it, Dave?" chuckled the delighted Hiram.
"The Monarch II acts prettily, that's sure," replied the young aviator.
Dave delighted his companion by giving him charge of the barograph readings and attention to some of the minor duties of aviation. The rapid progress of the machine in mid air was exhilarating. The weather conditions were ideal, and Dave had a definite goal in view.
There was not a break in the pleasant twilight journey. The Monarch II fulfilled all expectations and promises. About nine o'clock in the evening the record showed over two hundred miles accomplished, when they descended on a level stretch of prairie near a small bustling city. Here the gasoline supply in the tanks was replenished. The basket had been stored with over a hundred gallons of this in separate packages, without embarrassing the buoyancy of the machine, as the young aviators were far below average operating weight.
"This high living of ours makes and hungry," intimated Hiram, as they finished getting the machine in shape to renew the flight.
"Time for lunch, you think?" proposed Dave with a jolly laugh."Here we are."
They selected from the packages in the accommodation basket enough things for a feed. Mr. Randolph had certainly provided for them in a liberal way. The packages produced two kinds of sandwiches, some doughnuts, a cream cakes, cheese, celery and a prime apple pie.
Dave was pleased and proud with their progress thus far on their strange journey. There was a steady but mild head wind, and if he held till daylight the young aviator counted on reaching the first important destination on the route he had mapped out.
His idea was to reach a certain point in the dark. They would then seek a hiding place, or at least seclusion, until evening again, resting through the day. Dave's plan was to travel so that their progress might not be noted and get to the Dawson group through the public prints or by some other avenue, and thus warn them that they were being traced.
There was not a landmark on the route, such as a city, lake or river, that Dave had not memorized, from standard "fly" directories during the past two days. The Drifter, being in the hands of the Dawsons, who knew considerable about aviation, would probably follow the same course. At night it was more difficult to tally off progress than in daylight, but so far Dave felt that he had not deviated from the due northwest course that was to bring him to a certain destination.
For over five hours after lunch and rest the Monarch II kept steadily on its way. Dawn was just breaking when Dave passed a few miles to the west of a town he knew to be Millville. He glanced at Hiram, about to address him. Hiram was fast asleep.
"We will have to get down somewhere near here," decided Dave.
As he changed the course of the aircraft there was a slight jar, andHiram woke up.
"Hello!" he cried, "have I been—"
"Asleep at the switch?" smiled Dave. "Yes, but it hasn't needed any attention. We are going to land, Hiram."
Dave knew his bearings, as has been said. His anxiety, however, was to get to cover, so to speak, before the airship was seen by anyone in the vicinity. He soon knew that he had failed in this. Circling about and drifting in trying to select a suitable landing spot, Dave made out rising farmer staring up at the machine from his chicken yard.
A little farther on the driver of a truck wagon, bound town-wards evidently, espied the Monarch II, even in the dim morning light, for he stopped his horses, his face turned in the direction of the machine.
Finally Dave located a spot that suited him. It was where there had been mining going on some period in the past. Some hills shut in the deserted diggings. Several great heaps of ore surrounded a sort of pit, broad and roomy.
"I don't think we can find a better resting place," said Dave, as they reached the ground and he shut off the power.
"Going to stay here all day?" inquired Hiram.
"That is the programme, yes."
"Well, I suppose breakfast is the first move?" asked the young aviator's assistant.
"I'm hungry as a bear," announced Dave.
"So am I," agreed Hiram, and he set at work to explore the accommodation, basket.
Hiram soon had a tempting spread. There was cold ham, a roasted chicken, an abundance of bread and butter, and a two gallon jug of cold coffee.
The boys did full justice to the layout. Then Dave went over the machine, seeing to it that every part was in order.
"I'll have to take a little nap, Hiram," he advised his companion.
"No, a good long one," corrected Hiram.
"If we're going to lay off until night, there isn't much to do. I'll stay awake and keep a look out for anything happening. You see, I had quite a snooze up there in the air."
Dave made a comfortable couch by spreading out some of the wraps found in the accommodation basket. It was after ten o'clock when he woke up. He insisted on Hiram taking a turn on the couch.
"Can't do it. Not a bit sleepy," declared Hiram.
"Well, you can try it while I'm gone," suggested Dave.
"Oh, going somewhere?"
"Yes, to the town. I want to make a few inquiries as to the country around here and ahead of us, and I may wire Mr. Randolph."
"All right, go ahead," replied Hiram. "I'll see that everything is kept trim and safe about the machine."
Dave visited Millville, and posted himself as to certain geographical points in which he was interested. He also sent a brief dispatch to the Interstate people. Provided with some railroad maps, and some fresh rolls from a bakery, he started out to rejoin his chum.
He found Hiram busy burnishing up every bit of metal about the Monarch II. They had their noon lunch. On his way back from town Dave' had noticed a little brook. He was telling Hiram about it, and they were discussing a plan of a plunge and a swim, when Hiram, facing the point where the pit began, sprang suddenly to his feet.
"Hello!" he cried excitedly. "Someone is coming."
"Sure enough," echoed Dave, also arising. "Why, I noticed that man in Millville. Can it be possible that he has followed me? I didn't know it, if he has."
The boys stood motionless, awaiting the coming up of the intruder. He was a brisk, smart looking man. There was something in his sharp way of glancing at things that made Dave think of a lawyer. The stranger came up within a dozen feet of them. Then he halted, took in the flying machine with a grim smile, and then looked the young aviators over from head to foot.
"Reckon I've landed on both feet," he observed, a confident, satisfied drawl in his voice.
"What do you mean by that?" inquired Dave.
"Why, I've been looking out for an airship said to be cruising around this neighborhood. Truck farmer said he saw one early this morning. Then I noticed you in town. I think you'll understand me, young man," continued the stranger, "when I say that I'm on the hunt for a chap about your size running a stolen airship, and whose name is Jerry Dawson."
"Why," exclaimed Dave with a quick start, "so are we!"
Hiram stared his hardest at the stranger, Dave's eyes quickened with sudden intelligence. Almost in a flash he took in the situation.
"You just mentioned a name," he said. "I would like to mention another one."
"All right, what?"
"James Price."
"Hello!"
The stranger looked flabbergasted, as the saying goes. He furrowed his brow as if puzzled.
"You have made a mistake," continued Dave. "You think one of us two is Jerry Dawson."
"I did think it, yes," admitted the man, a trifle less self assured than at first.
"Wrong."
"Is that so, now?"
"Yes. You know Mr. Price, don't you?"
"Perhaps I do."
"And you are on the lookout for an airship, but not this machine. Let me explain briefly, and see if we cannot come to an understanding."
Dave surmised that the stranger must be one of the assistants of Mr. Price, the revenue officer. In a very few minutes he knew that this was true. Assured from Dave's talk that he was not the Dawson boy, and that the hydro-aeroplane before him was not the Drifter, the man became very friendly.
It seemed that he was one of the agents of the revenue service. He made his headquarters at Millville, and had received a telegram from Mr. Price the day previous to look out for the stolen airship. This was before Mr. Price had met Dave at Bolton, but immediately after Mr. King at Columbus had told him of the discovery that the Dawsons had made away with the Drifter.
So far as the man knew, none of the many assistants of Mr. Price had found any traces of the missing aero-hydroplane. Dave did not enlighten him as to his plans and destination, for the man's present duties were simply those of a lookout at Millville.
The stranger stayed and chatted with the boys for over two hours, and then went away. Dave had told him that they would not start out again with the Monarch II until after dark. About six o'clock the man drove up with a wagon.
"Thought you might be getting tired of cold dry fare," he said, "soI've brought you a real supper for a change."
"Why, say, you're a prince!" cried the impetuous Hiram, as the man lifted a gas oven from the wagon, and then a shallow box, and the contents of both receptacles were revealed.
The oven contained two heaping dishes of lamb chops, and potatoes, still quite warm. From the box the stranger produced all the trimmings for a first class meal.
"This is pretty kind and thoughtful of you," said Dave.
"Nothing too good for friends of Mr. Price," insisted the man."Besides, I remember how good the present of a meal has been whenI've got stranded on duty myself."
The speaker, it seemed, had been a member of the Canadian mounted police. The boys whiled the time away interestingly during the next two hours, listening to some of, his exciting experiences with Indians and outlaws in the Winnipeg wilds.
It was just after dark when the Monarch started on the second stage of the journey. Three stops were made during the ensuing six, hours. Dave was very tired and Hiram pretty sleepy, when, at three o'clock in the morning, the machine came to rest on a little reed-covered island in the center of a swampy stretch.
"We may stay here for several days, I don't know exactly how long," the young aviator told his assistant.
"You don't suppose that the Dawsons and the Drifter are anywhere near here, do you?" inquired Hiram.
"Perhaps not, but we are near Ironton, on the American side of LakeSuperior. If Mr. Price's theories are all right, that fellow,Ridgely, will begin his new operations somewhere in this district."
"I see," nodded Hiram. "What are we to do now—sleep?"
"As much as we like for the next eight or ten hours."
"I'm ready," announced Hiram. "It's been fine and dandy up aloft there, but I notice that when it doesn't make a fellow hungry it does make him good and sleepy."
"All right, we'll bunk down, Hiram. I don't think any one is likely to run across us in this out-of-the-way place."
"I don't think so, either," responded Hiram, and was soon asleep and snoring.
The breakfast programme of the previous morning was repeated later.Hiram called the whole thing a picnic, and was jolly and happy.
"One thing, though," he said; "isn't something exciting going to happen soon, Dave?"
"We ought to be pretty well satisfied with the splendid cruise of the Monarch II," suggested Dave.
"Yes, but I'm getting anxious to run across some of the smugglers. I've read a lot about them in the papers and books. They must be great fellows to tackle, with their cutlasses, and walking the plank, and treasure hoards."
"Why, Hiram," laughed Dave, "you're not thinking of smugglers."
"What am I then?"
"Pirates."
"Oh, yes, that's so," agreed Hiram. "Well, the Dawsons are worse than pirates. They won't give up that airship without a tussle, I can tell you."
"All I want to do is to locate them," said Dave. "The government will do the rest."
Dave left the camp, as they called it, about noon. He had some difficulty in getting from the island to the mainland, as the soil was soggy and at places two feet deep with water. He accomplished the task, however, with only a slight wetting.
The young aviator had been given the address, of one of Mr. Price's men at Ironton. He visited his office, but found him absent for the day. Then he wired his progress to the Interstate people and told them if necessary to reach, him at the Northern Hotel.
Dave went to the hotel and made arrangement with the clerk as to mail and telegrams. He decided to remain in the vicinity of Ironton till he got in touch with the revenue officer's agent there. He was just leaving the hotel when one placed a hand on his shoulder, with the friendly words:
"Why, hello, Dashaway."
Dave turned quickly, startled for a moment. Then his face broke into smiles of warm welcome.
"Mr. Alden," he said, and returned the friendly hand clasp of his companion.
The chance meeting took Dave's mind back instantly to a most pleasant period of his experience since leaving his guardian's home at Brookville.
It was Mr. Alden, the moving picture man, who had given Dave what might be called his first start in business life. Dave had posed for the "movies," and later he and Mr. King had taken a prominent part in some motion pictures bringing in the monoplane, the Aegis.
"I didn't expect to see you way up here, Dashaway," spoke Mr. Alden."How are you getting along?"
"First class, thanks to the friendly help you gave me in the first place," responded the young aviator.
"I'm glad of that. Come up to my room and tell me all about it, Dashaway. Now then, for a talk over old times," resumed the moving picture man, as they were comfortably seated in his room at the hotel.
Dave parried a good many questions. He did not exactly wish to tell Mr. Alden about his business, which in the present case was also that of his employers. He managed to lead Mr. Alden to talk of his own affairs.
"Oh, I've had the actors up here on a lot of marine scenarios," explained the moving picture man. "They went away only this morning. We've been picturing 'The Island Hermit of Lake Superior,' 'Iron Miners' Revenge,' 'Flight Across the Border,' and 'The Mystery of the Pineries.' Great scenery around here for fittings, you see. There are some of my key negatives on the table there, look them over."
Dave examined some of the films with interest. The former kindness of Mr. Alden and his party had left a warm spot in the heart of the young aviator for anything concerning the movies.
"There's some plain slides we made to catch the costumes and figures," added Mr. Alden, pointing to a rack containing about a dozen glass negatives.
Dave began holding them up to the light in turn. He had inspected perhaps one half of them, when he somewhat startled the moving picture man with a sharp sudden exclamation.
"Mr. Alden," he asked quite excitedly, "where did you take that slide?"
The young aviator might well ask the question he put to the moving picture man, for the negative in Dave's hand showed plainly the face and figure of Jerry Dawson.
There could be no mistake. The boy who had run away with the Drifter had features strongly marked and not readily forgotten. The picture had been taken in the open street. Jerry was standing there talking to a Chinaman.
"Some scene you know, Dashaway?" asked Mr. Alden.
"No, somebody I know—and am very anxious to find," replied Dave.
"So? Let me have a look at it."
Dave handed the plate to the moving picture man, who slanted it against the light and nodded intelligently.
"Oh, that?" he said. "Yes, I remember all about it."
"Where did you take it, Mr. Alden?" pressed Dave.
"At Anseton. There's a sort of foreign quarter there, and I was catching up some street scenes. It was the Chinaman I shot. Wanted the costume, you know."
"When was that?" asked Dave.
"Yesterday morning."
Dave asked a score of questions. The moving picture man saw that Dave had some important motive in his inquiries. He did not ask what it was, and was patient and careful in his replies.
Dave left Mr. Alden feeling that he had learned a good deal. The presence of Jerry Dawson in Anseton, and that, too, with a Chinaman, verified many of the theories of the young aviator. Dave lost no time in getting to a telegraph office, to send a dispatch that would reach Mr. Price. It told briefly of the progress of the Monarch II and of the definite clew Dave had just discovered.
That afternoon our hero hired a hand cart he saw in a blacksmith's yard labeled "For Sale." He drove it as near to the swamp island as he could, without getting stuck in the mud. Then, he called to Hiram, who put himself in wading trim. The empty gasoline cans were over to the cart by Hiram. Dave trundled them to the town, got them filled and to the island, and, returning the cart, was ready to prepare for a new night journey.
"It's less than sixty miles that we have to go, Hiram," he advised his assistant.
"Then you've found out something definite?" guessed Hiram.
"Yes, I have got a trace of Jerry Dawson."
"You don't say so!"
"I do, and I'll tell you how," and Dave recited the story of his meeting with the moving picture man.
"Why, that's just grand," commented Hiram in his exuberant way."You've good as run down the Drifter."
"Not quite, Hiram."
"Oh, you'll find the stolen airship. I feel it in my bones. I've felt it ever since I saw the way you took hold of this affair."
"Well, I've had good help and a splendid machine, you must remember."
"I don't go much on the help," declared Hiram modestly. "As to the Monarch II, though, I never saw such a well-behaved machine. If she does in the water what she's done in the air, she's a record breaker, sure."
The machine was put in the best possible trim. It lacked two hours of nightfall but Dave had plenty to occupy his mind. For over an hour he sat looking over maps and memoranda, and blocking out his course. He had been very explicit and painstaking in questioning the moving picture man. He had made inquiries concerning Anseton and its vicinity down to the smallest detail. From all this Dave had decided on a permanent landing place, a sort of headquarters from which he could branch out in his personal investigations in the day time and sally forth on an air hunt in the dark.
The aviators could distinctly hear a bell in some tower tolling the hour of nine as they circled a busy city that lay beyond and below, them, a blur of light. Dave at the levers kept the Monarch II at a fair height, constantly scanning an expanse to the north dotted only here and there with lights. Once past the outskirts of the city he turned due north.
"Why, hello!" exclaimed his companion, "we're over water!"
"Yes," replied Dave, "it's the lake."
"Lake Superior! Dave, are we going to cross it?"
"A good many times in the future probably, but not tonight. I am looking for a revolving light west of the city, right along the coast."
"I'll keep a lookout, too."
The lake was here and there dotted with the signal lights of steamers. Along the shore, which Dave skirted closely, various lights their met view. Both boys strained their gaze. Finally Hiram called out sharply: "I see it, Dave."
"See what?"
"A revolving light."
"Where?"
"See, just beyond that little cluster of town lights—quite high up."
"Yes," answered Dave in a tone of satisfaction. "That is RockyPoint lighthouse. I know my bearings, now."
"Are you going to land, Dave?"
"Presently."
"But you're driving out further over the lake."
"Just for a short distance, Hiram," advised Dave. "There's an island down shore where they run a smelter—ah, I think I locate it."
Dave was not mistaken. He came within range of some tall, stacks sending out sparks and flames. Now he changed his course. He kept his glance fixed below him and to the right as steadily as his duties at the lever would permit.
The Monarch II passed over two small islands. Half a mile beyond them arose a third larger one. It was quite prominent, for the reason, that it presented a range of great cliffs. Dave navigated the air in narrowing circles. Then, timing and calculating a volplane glide, he let the machine down easily to the ground.
"Well!" ejaculated Hiram, "you've hit on a pretty dark spot for a camp, Dave."
"And a safe one," replied the young aviator. "Mr. Alden described this place to me. It is called Desert Island, and has no inhabitants on it. It seems dark because we are so shut in, but your eyes will soon become used to that."
It was a singular place into which the Monarch II had descended.High declivitous, masses of rock formed a sort of immense cairn.They seemed shut in on every side, fully one hundred feet below thelevel of the cliffs.
The farther north they had run the cooler air currents had become.Both boys felt somewhat chilly.
"See here," spoke Hiram, after they had seen that the machine was all right and a rubber sheet thrown over the machinery to protect it from the heavy night dews, "a warm cup coffee wouldn't hurt us."
"That's right, Hiram," agreed Dave. "We are all shut in here, and even a big fire wouldn't show from the land or the deck of a passenger steamer. You can try your hand at coffee making, if you like."
"The coffee is all made, but cold, in these bottles," explainedHiram, fishing out two from the accommodation basket.
There were both trees and bushes near by. Hiram gathered some dry branches and roots and soon had a comfortable little campfire going. He poured out the coffee from the bottles into a tin water pail, and soon had it steaming hot. Sandwiches and some bakery stuff Dave had bought at Ironton made a very satisfactory meal. Then they spread some wraps over a heap of dried grass, which they gathered up without much trouble. They rested in luxurious ease, watching the bright, snapping fire glow and feeling its genial warmth.
"Well, this is just like Robinson Crusoe, isn't it, Dave?" askedHiram, with an air of great comfort.
"If you are a man Friday, then," rejoined the young aviator with a smile, "you scout around in the morning and see if there are any breaks in these great walls of rock shutting us in."
"Oh, then you're not counting an leaving here again by the air route?" inquired Hiram in some surprise.
"Not in daylight. I want to find some other way out for that. You see," explained Dave, "this is just an ideal spot as a rendezvous. I want to get over to the city tomorrow, though, to attend to some important business."
"How are you going to get there?"
"Why, I'll have to trust to my swimming skill, I guess," repliedDave.
"Um-m," observed Hiram thoughtfully, and, if the young aviator had been more watchful, he would have noticed that for the rest of the evening his willing assistant seemed to have something on his mind.
"Hallo! Hallo!"
Dave made the echoes ring with the loud call as he moved up and down and across the queer basin, or cairn, where they had landed in the Monarch II the night previous.
He had awakened just at daylight to find Hiram Dobbs mysteriously missing. Dave was not worried at the first, but as he looked around and then explored the immediate neighborhood, he began to get mystified, if not alarmed.
Neither did his vigorous shouting bring any response. Dave came back to the camp spot to make a new discovery that puzzled him. On the ground near where they had slept were Hiram's coat, vest, shoes and cap.
"Why, I can't understand this at all," mused the young aviator. "Hiram couldn't have done much in the way of climbing up, he appears to be nowhere within hail, and he is not given to play tricks."
Dave did not wait to eat anything. He was really concerned about his comrade. He got a long tree branch, stripped it, and went along the side of the cairn, poking in and out among the dense dumps of shrubbery.
"Hello," he exclaimed suddenly, as disturbing some vines he saw an opening, and not twenty feet away a natural rocky tunnel, "daylight, and the waves of the lake. I think I understand now."
Dave penetrated the passage. As he came out at the other end, he found he faced a rock-strewn stretch of sand. The waves of the lake lapped this. In the distance he could make out Anseton, and nearer still, about a mile distant, the main shore.
The shore he was on terminated in a ridge of rocks that ran far out into the water. Dave wondered if the exploring spirit had moved Hiram to attempt an entire circle about the island.
"He went away in swimming trim," thought Dave, "so that may be so.I'll go out on that ledge of rocks and explore a little myself."
"Hello, Dave Dashaway!" sang out an exultant voice, just as Dave was about to remove his shoes.
Around the ledge of rock came a light skiff. The oarsman was Dave's missing comrade. He drove the boat upon the sandy beach and leaped out with a gay laugh.
"Why, Hiram," exclaimed the young aviator in marked surprise.
"It's me," chuckled Hiram. "Stole a march on you. Nearly dry," he added, shaking his clinging garments. "And oh! what a swim."
"You have been to the mainland?" questioned Dave.
"Where else? When you said 'swim' last night, it gave me an idea. I'm some swimmer, Dave Dashaway. Always was. Took the prize in a contest in Plum Creek back at home one Fourth of July. I found a way out of that shut in place and made a jolly dive for shore."
"But the skiff?"
"You'll need one, won't you?" challenged Hiram.
"Why, yes. I intended hiring one when I got across from the island."
"So you said, and I acted. I did better than hiring a boat, Dave."
"How is that?"
"Bought one outright. I took my money with me. Found an old fellow who lets out a lot of boats for fishing, and made a bargain. The skiff isn't the staunchest craft on the lake. Leaks a little, and one oar has been split and mended, but it's all right for our little use. Four dollars and a half—and we can sell it for something when we get through using it."
"You're a great fellow, Hiram, I must confess," said Dave admiringly.
"I'd like to do something to help on this trip of ours, you know."
"You've done a good deal this time, I can tell you that," declaredDave. "I can manage all my plans finely, now."
They pulled the boat into the shelter of some rocks. Then they returned to the rocky hollow. A good breakfast was in order. Dave announced the importance of his getting to Anseton at once.
An hour later the little skiff was launched once more. Dave rowed over to the mainland and lined the shore till well into city waters. He secured the skiff near a public pier, and started on foot for his destination.
Left to himself on the island, Hiram proceeded to dry his clothing. Then he puttered about the machine. He read for an hour or two in a book on aeronautics he found in the basket, well on towards the afternoon.
Hiram got tired of waiting for Dave. He went through the tunnel finally and roamed about on the rocky shore. There was more of scenery and variety here. The youth watched the boats in the distance. Then he made out the little skiff he had bought that morning making its way in and out among other craft between the island, and the mainland.
"What's the news, Dave?" inquired Hiram, as they gained the camp after securing the skiff where it could not be easily seen or found.
"The best ever," reported Dave cheerily.
"Tell me about it, won't you?"
"Well, I saw Mr. Price."
"Is he here at Anseton?"
"Yes, with his men. I had a long talk with him. He feels pretty good to know that we got here safely with the Monarch II. I told him all about the place where the moving picture man saw Jerry Dawson and the Chinaman. He thinks that is an excellent clew."
"I should think it was," said Hiram.
"He wants us to try and discover the Drifter. He says it's only a question of time, he and his men running down the smugglers. You see, Hiram, we are interested mainly in finding the aero-hydroplane, and getting it back to the Interstate people."
"That's so."
"And we must think of that first."
"I understand."
"We will make a long trip tonight—clear across the lake."
"Suppose you get a sight of the Drifter?"
"Then we'll know that it is really here, won't we?"
"Yes, but are you going to jog right into them and capture them?"
"Hardly," laughed Dave. "I hope if we do come across the Drifter, that we can follow it or keep it company, or find out where it is hidden away in the daytime. We will have to run across it before we can decide what circumstances will lead us to do."
"They're an ugly crowd—the Dawsons, and probably the fellows with them, too."
"I realize that. Mr. Price insisted on my taking these," and Dave began opening a boxlike package he had brought with him in the skiff.
"Hello," cried Hiram, as two good sized weapons and some boxes of cartridges were disclosed. "Do we have to use them?"
"I hope not," replied Dave, "but Mr. Price said we might come to a pinch where we could use them to show we were not unprotected, and to scare any crowd that tried to interfere with us."
"Well, it begins to look like real business," commented Hiram.
"That's what we're here for."
"Yes, indeed."
They had no difficulty in getting the Monarch II aloft, the hollow extending for several hundred feet. The night was ideal for a secret sky voyage. A slight mist hung over the ground, but at a height of five hundred feet the air was perfectly clear. There was bright starlight, and against the radiance they could make out flying birds quite a distance away.
Dave took a route across the lake diagonally from Anseton. They skirted the other shore for about ten miles. Then they recrossed the lake. The machine made a sweep along the coast line.
"Well, Dave," remarked his trusty assistant, "we've run across no air bird so far."
"I didn't expect to, all at once," was Dave's reply. "We can only keep at it."
"And trust to luck—I say!"
Hiram interrupted himself with a shout. Just beneath them an excursion steamer was ploughing its way through the waves, bound citywards on its return trip. They could hear the music of the band aboard, until now drowned out by hoarse blare of the fog whistle.
At the same moment a broad vivid flare of electric radiance shot across the sky from the deck of the steamer. It waved horizontally in some signal to the landing dock two miles further away. Then the operator of this glowing searchlight sent its gleams upwards in a slow way, as if for scenic effect for the passengers on board.
"The mischief!" exclaimed Dave bending to levers and starting theMonarch II forward at best speed.
Hiram sat staring. He blinked, half-blinded. The machine was irradiated in clear, sharp outlines as the great searchlight glare was focused, a speck of action in the sky.
A chorus of cheers went up from the deck of the steamer as its passengers caught sight of the airship. Only for a moment, however, was the brilliant sky picture in view. Dave turned the head of the machine on a volplane sweep, and the searchlight operator could not locate it again.
"Well, we've been seen," observed Hiram,
"I'm sorry for it," replied Dave simply.
"Look there!" cried Hiram abruptly.
Dave had selected a course leading over the land, away from the water. As Hiram spoke, his own eye caught sight of some brilliant sparkles of light.
It was a rocket, exploding in mid air directly in their course, and it was to this that Hiram Dobbs had directed the attention of the young aviator.