CHAPTER XI
THE AIR KING
THE AIR KING
THE AIR KING
“You’ll be awful sorry for this,” Dave and his companion heard next.
“That’s enough, Dawson.”
“My boy, Jerry, knows this business, and you won’t find a lot who do.”
“I tell you that will do,” was the forcible response, “and it ends it. Your son gave away a lot of information to a competitor. There are things missing, too.”
“Don’t you call Jerry a thief!”
“If he isn’t that, at least he neglected to watch my property and my interests as he was paid to do.”
“You’ll suffer for sending my son away with a bad character!”
“Don’t let me see him again, that’s all.”
“Huh!”
The last speaker, a big fierce-looking man came out through the doorway with the word. From the way he was dressed Dave decided that he was employed somewhere about the grounds. His face was red and his fists clenched. He gritted his teeth viciously as he went on his way.
“It’s my turn now,” spoke up Dave’s companion eagerly.
He made a quick bolt through the doorway. Dave was left alone. His eyes followed the man whom he had heard called Dawson. The latter had gone about a hundred feet down the hangar row, when a boy about the age and size of Dave came suddenly into view from behind a shed, where evidently he had been waiting.
Dave decided that this must be the son of Dawson concerning whom there had been such an animated discussion. He could surmise from their looks and gestures that the father was reporting the result of the interview to his son. The latter scowled forcibly. Then he shook his fist in the direction of the hangar.
“Why,” said Dave thoughtfully, “there must be a vacancy here. Maybe I have arrived just in the nick of time.”
It was easy to figure out that the boy, Jerry Dawson, had been discharged from the employ of Mr. King. His father had interceded for him, but it had been of no avail. Suddenly Dave’s interest was distracted from the incident of the moment. He heard his late companion speaking beyond the doorway:—
“Yes, sir, a man gave me that card and said he had heard that you was in need of a boy.”
“H’m, yes,” Dave heard Mr. King reply. “That is true, but—what’s your name.”
“Hiram Dobbs.”
“Where do you come from, Hiram?”
“I did live twenty miles west of here, but I got tired of farming and my brother said I could try something else if I wanted to. I worked for a fellow in the merry-go-round business in the city till night before last. He sloped without paying me.”
“And you want to break into the aero business, eh?”
“Well, I heard there might be a chance with you, so I came here. You see, I’ve had some experience.”
“In the airship line?”
“Well, no—balloons.”
“How? Where?” asked Mr. King.
“Down at Talcott, the town near our farm. There was a circus and a balloon ascension. I got caught in a rope and was dragged thirty feet up into the air.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. Here, there’s a slip from the Talcott Herald, telling all about ‘the daring feat of our young townsman.’ If I hadn’t caught in a tree I’d have gone further.”
There was a sound of rustling paper. Then Dave heard Mr. King laugh. It was a kindly, good natured laugh, though. Dave voted he would like the man in whom he was so interested yet whom he had never seen.
“Well, well,” spoke Mr. King, “you were quite a hero. Being pulled up into the clouds on a balloon anchor is not the kind of experience that counts for much in the airship line, though, my lad. If I had something just suited to you, I would give you a chance on your honest face. Frankly, though, I do not think you would be of much use to me until you have had some practical experience.”
“Sorry,” replied Hiram Dobbs in a subdued tone, “for I like you, mister. Now, where can I get that experience?”
“By working around the hangars and doing odd jobs till you know a monoplane from a biplane, and a pylon from an aileron. See here, you go down to the office of the grounds—know where it is?”
“Yes, sir, near the big gateway, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. You ask for Mr. Linden, and tell him I want him to give you a job. Tell him I will be down to see him about it in an hour or so.”
“Will he put me at something?”
“I think he will. He has the concessions at all the meets for food supplies and the like. That will bring you in touch with every angle of the aeroplane business, and you look like a boy who would learn.”
“Just try me and see!” chuckled Hiram. “Thank you, sir, I’ll get directly about this business.”
“Wait a minute—got any money?”
“No, sir, I haven’t.”
“There’s a dollar.”
“But I’m not begging, sir,” dissented Hiram. “If I get work——”
“You can hand it back pay day.”
Hiram came out with dancing eyes. He jumped up in the air, cracking his heels together. Then, out of sheer jubilation, he slapped Dave on the shoulder.
“I’ve got a job!” he cried.
“I’m very glad you have,” responded Dave heartily.
Hiram did not wait for any further talk. He started on a mad dash for the other end of the grounds. A man was coming around the corner of the little building, and Hiram very nearly ran into him. Dave had got up from the bench to venture upon seeing Mr. King, when the newcomer preceded him through the doorway. Dave considered that he was entitled to the next interview with the airman. The latest arrival, however, was so forcible and precipitate that Dave patiently resigned his chance.
The newcomer was very much excited. He was an old man, smart looking, but very fat and fussy. Dave heard him break out in a stirring tone with the words:
“It’s come, Mr. King.”
“Oh, you mean—ah, yes,” replied the airman, “your parachute suit?”
“Yes, a perfect full-sized one. See here, you know what I want. You said you were very much interested in my patent.”
“That’s the truth, Mr. Dixon.”
“And that you would give it a trial.”
“I will, later. See here, my friend, I am engaged all day to-day.”
“Why, the meet is over?”
“Yes, but I have a contract for a private exhibition. There’s good money in it, and I can’t disappoint my people.”
“How’s the next day?”
“I’ve got to go to the Dayton grounds to get ready for the opening day at that meet. Tell you, Mr. Dixon, bring your device up to Dayton, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“I am anxious to make a practical test right away.”
“There’s lots of the fellows here who will help you out.”
“Yes, and make a blunder, and queer my whole business. No, sir! The man who won the endurance prize is the man for me, and your recommendation would be worth more to me than that of any ten men in the aviation line.”
“Why don’t you make the trial yourself, Mr. Dixon?” inquired the airman.
“Oh, yes!” laughed the old inventor, “I’d be a fine performer with my clumsy bungling in an airship and my two hundred pounds, wouldn’t I!”
“That’s so. You had better pick out a lightweight for the first trial.”
“Where will I find one?” spoke Mr. Dixon in a musing tone. “You see, I don’t expect a long drop on the first test. You know Boisan never ran his biplane without wearing his padded helmet. All that can do, though, is to break the shock of a fall. My parachute isn’t on the pad order at all, nor to prevent a fall.”
“What does it do, then?” asked Mr. King.
“It reduces the rate of the drop and lands the wearer safe and sound. The suit is a loose flowing garment fitted to a framework carried on the back. The lower ends are secured to the ankles. When the aviator throws out his arms, the garment spreads out like an umbrella. I am satisfied if you once see my parachute dress work, you will give a good word for it that will make it a success.”
“Well, Mr. Dixon,” replied the airman, “if you are anxious to have a trial on the field here, I’ll find some one to give it a show, under my direction. I hardly know where I will get my man, but I can probably pick him up somewhere about the field. It’s a risky experiment, though.”
Dave Dashaway arose from the bench. Afterwards he wondered at his audacity, but just at that moment he could not resist the quick impulse that seized him.
He stepped through the doorway and turning past a half partition, faced the two men whose overheard conversation had so interested him.
“Mr. King,” he said taking off his cap, and his heart beating rapidly at his own temerity, “I would like to try that experiment.”